Blackberry vines had swallowed an abandoned fence.
Young trees grew between rotting posts.
Eli followed a bearing toward what should have been an original boundary monument.
Nothing.
He searched for twenty minutes.
Ellis called, “Maybe it's gone.”
Eli kept looking.
Then saw a straight edge where nature usually produced curves.
A sandstone block.
Almost completely buried.
He pulled weeds away.
The top contained a square depression.
Eli's pulse quickened.
He ran back to the truck.
Returned with the iron marker.
Lowered it into the depression.
Perfect fit.
Ellis removed his cap.
“Well.”
The marker was not random.
It belonged there.
They cleared the soil carefully.
Several inches down, Ellis's shovel struck metal.
They slowed immediately.
Beneath the stone sat a small survey box protected with remnants of old waterproofing compound.
Inside was a brass plate.
The engraving was worn but readable.
Bearings.
Distances.
Property references.
Water-channel measurements.
Eli held the old survey beside it.
They matched.
Not approximately.