Chapter 4 - The Broken Line
Nora snatched the paper off the trough before Vance could stop her. Her fingers left smudges of dirt and dried blood across the pristine margin. The handwriting was unmistakable: the looping, uneven script of an old man whose hands had spent seven decades driving tractors and branding calves.
Nora, don't let them dig near the dry creek well. Look inside the red lockbox in the tack room before you surrender anything.
Her heart pounded against her injured ribs. Vance took a quick step forward, his polished shoe catching in the dust, his composure cracking for a split second. ""Give that back. That's a certified county legal record.""
""You came all the way out here with two reserve deputies just to serve an eviction on an empty house?"" Nora said, retreating half a step toward the barn's dark corridor. ""You could have mailed this. You drove out here because you wanted to make sure we didn't search the property first.""
Vance’s two escorts shifted their holstered sidearms, stepping closer to the fence line. ""We are here to maintain order during the repossession process. Don't make this complicated, Nora. You're hurt, your father isn't coming back from that facility, and the family debt is three times what this dried-up dirt is worth.""
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""Give us our two hours,"" Nora said coldly, folding the document tightly and jamming it into her boiler suit pocket. ""You said the trucks were at the cutoff. Let me load the bull. You touch him with a stun prod, he'll tear through your stock trailer like paper.""
Vance checked his stainless steel watch, his lips drawn into a tight, severe line. ""One hour, Nora. If those gates aren't clear by one-thirty, my men will shoot the beast, drag him out with a backhoe, and escort you off the parcel in handcuffs."" He turned on his heel, but just before he reached his truck, he added over his shoulder, ""And don't bother looking for the tack room key. It was surrendered this morning.""
