She smiled back.
“Good.”
Then pointed toward his schoolbooks.
“Algebra.”
The county scheduled a hearing.
By then, word had spread across the valley.
Farmers arrived carrying deeds, old photographs, family records, and memories.
One elderly farmer remembered his father helping clear the channel in the 1940s.
Another found receipts for stone purchased during a spring repair.
A widow produced a letter mentioning annual maintenance payments.
None of those pieces alone decided anything.
Together, they formed continuity.
Calvin Rusk arrived at the hearing with two attorneys.
Their binders were new.
Their maps professionally printed.
Their argument was straightforward.
Modern property records showed one thing.
Investments had been made based on those records.
Purchase agreements had been negotiated.
Financing arranged.
Changing the interpretation now would create uncertainty.
Ellis arrived with Eli.
They brought the rusted document box.
Original survey.
Duplicate.
Brass plate.
Maintenance records.
Photographs.
Samuel Harland's warning.
The county surveyor spent almost an hour comparing everything.
He did not announce a conclusion.
Instead he said, “I want to see the monument.”
Everyone drove back into the valley.