At dawn I made coffee and went through the ranch accounts before checking the cattle. I wanted the morning to begin with ordinary work instead of waiting at a gate for an argument. The first load of feed arrived at seven and the driver asked why I had an extra chain hanging on the western entrance. I told him there had been a dispute with neighboring construction and that the feed trucks should use the east road for now.
At nine, Luis called. "Daniel, there's pressure to resume corridor work this week," he said. "I've told management my crews won't enter without documentary clearance. I heard somebody talking about bringing a security contractor to oversee the access. I wanted you to hear that from me rather than from a windshield."
"Does that mean they're coming tomorrow?"
"I don't know. I haven't been given a signed work authorization. But the equipment has been staged, and Margaret is telling people the county supports her position."
I called Sheriff Daniels after we hung up. He asked me to send the information to dispatch and keep the gate locked. When I asked what he would do if a security team arrived, he said he would assess the situation and make sure nobody mistook a civil claim for permission to use force. He also told me not to stand in front of moving machinery, advice I took seriously even though I wanted to defend every inch of the place.
The following morning, I found the black SUV at the head of a line of utility trucks before I heard their engines. Margaret had returned, and this time she had brought people who looked as though they expected an audience. She stepped from the driver's side, straightened her blouse, and walked toward my gate without waiting for anyone else. As she approached, I lifted my phone, began recording, and made sure the survey stake was in the frame.
"Open the gate," she said.
"No."
"You're going to let the equipment through."
"No."
"You're going to make this much more difficult than it has to be."
"I haven't touched your equipment, Margaret. I haven't stopped you from working on your parcel. You have no right to enter mine, and you've been told that in writing."
She looked at the deed in my hand and gave a sharp laugh. "You are really going to let a little piece of paper stop a nine-million-dollar project?"
"This little piece of paper is why you're standing outside my gate," I said. "It doesn't open because your budget is bigger than mine."
She turned toward Aaron Pike, who was standing beside the lead utility truck. "Move the equipment forward. We are not letting this man hold us up again."
Aaron looked at the gate, then toward the rear of the convoy. "I think we should wait for the sheriff," he said.
"Fine," Margaret snapped. "Call him. Let's hear him explain to the county why a rancher gets to shut down essential infrastructure."
I lowered my phone just enough for her to see the screen. "I already did. He's on his way."