“We could install signs.”
“Equipment.”
“We could establish speed restrictions.”
“Liability.”
“The association carries insurance.”
“My property isn’t an HOA road.”
Victoria held the folder slightly tighter.
“It could benefit everyone.”
Garrett looked toward the lower pasture.
“Not me.”
That was the first time Victoria failed to persuade him.
Garrett would later wonder whether the refusal mattered more to her than the road itself.
For several weeks, nothing happened.
Then one morning he found tire tracks.
At first, Garrett assumed a delivery driver had made a mistake.
The eastern ranch gate was usually closed but not always locked during working hours.
Feed trucks entered there.
Veterinarians used it.
Hay deliveries came through.
Garrett followed the tracks.
They ran the entire ranch road.
Entered from Meadow Crest.
Exited near Juniper Hollow.
No stopping.
No delivery.
Just passage.
Two days later, it happened again.
The third time, Garrett was near the barn when he saw the vehicle.
Silver SUV.
Late-model.
Moving faster than he allowed any ranch vehicle to move.
Garrett stepped into the road.
The SUV slowed.
Stopped.
Window descended.
Victoria Sterling looked out.
“Oh.”
Garrett walked over.
“You lost?”
Victoria smiled.