"You mean the burden you put there."
She ignored that. "The association has emergency authority to protect the watershed. These men are here to perform the work."
I stopped outside the gate and looked at the workers. "Who issued that authority?"
Karen lifted her clipboard. "Our management company."
"That's a contract with your management company, Karen. It isn't permission from me, a court order, or direction from a wildlife agency."
The tallest worker glanced from me to her. He wore a dark blue shirt with the embroidered name M. SANDERS and seemed less certain than the other two. I asked him whether he had seen a document bearing my signature. He shook his head before Karen could answer.
"We were told the property was under the community's environmental management plan," he said.
"It isn't. This ranch is outside your development, and there's an ownership dispute concerning the fish. Your company should speak to my attorney before attempting anything."
Karen's cheeks grew pink. "Robert, this is exactly why your pond has become a hazard. You refuse reasonable assistance and then act as though you're the victim."
I felt my temper move for the first time that week. "You sent thousands of animals into a spring-fed pond with no carrying-capacity study, no health report, and no landowner consent. My family has been working every day to keep them alive. Now you're offering to scoop them up again before the state finishes determining what they are."
"You don't know what you're dealing with," she said.
"Then tell me."
For a moment she looked past my shoulder toward the water. "You have no idea what happens if those fish reproduce," she said.
I waited for the rest. None came. She had sounded less like a board president issuing a warning and more like a person afraid of being asked to explain something she had already done.
I took out my phone and called Daniel. He asked to speak to the crew supervisor, so I put the call on speaker while Sanders stepped forward. Daniel identified the dispute, provided his office number, and asked the company to suspend any handling or movement until its lawyers had reviewed the ownership and environmental questions. The supervisor listened carefully, wrote down Daniel's contact information, and told Karen his crew would not proceed without revised instructions.
"You're abandoning a contracted job," Karen told him.
"I'm declining to enter land without confirmed authority," Sanders replied. "Those aren't the same thing."
They put the nets back in the truck. Karen stood in the drive watching, her lips pressed together, while one of the men secured the portable tank. She did not look at me again until the trailer turned around.
"You'll regret making this difficult," she said.
"I regret that you made it necessary."
She drove off without another word. I had expected to feel victorious, but all I felt was tired. The fish had spent another day stressed, I had spent another day defending a gate that should not have needed defending, and Karen still had not answered the simplest question I had asked her.