Chapter 17

“MOM,” VALERIE HOUSTON yelled, “Bucky’s using a tennis racquet on the birds again.”

Ginny smiled and shook her head. How much different boys and girls were. Valerie would pick up an injured bird, nurse it, put it in a warm blanket and stroke its breast feathers. If it died she would hold a full dress funeral for it, even giving it a name and a tombstone consisting of a wooden shingle with the bird’s name burned into it and the date of death. Complete, compassionate, and ethereal.

Bucky was in the haymow in the height of the barn swatting at the frightened sparrows with a tennis racket; Dawson on the other side, swinging and chasing the birds back to Bucky. So far they had swatted nine who fell to the floor of the barn where the cats grabbed them, growling and flattening their ears if any other cat came toward them as they dashed away to eat their prize under the old pickup stored in the granary.

“We have too many sparrows, honey. It won’t hurt to thin them out some.”

“Some of them aren’t dead when the cats get them,” Valerie pleaded.

“They are probably stunned and unconscious when they hit the floor.”

“But, Mom, I might be able to save them.”

Ginny hung the hand towel on the stove handle and cuddled her daughter against her chest. “Honey, that’s just the way it is on the farm. If the sparrows didn’t have the barn to shelter in and the scraps from the granary and chicken feed to eat there would be far fewer of them. But your uncles provide shelter and food and the birds take advantage of the easy life and breed lots of babies who grow up and do the same. Pretty soon we have too many for the cats to keep in balance and in step Bucky and Dawson who act as a counter balance to the population boom.”

Valerie looked up. “But, Mom, that’s not fair. They’re using rackets.”

“Honey—life is not fair. Change clothes and let’s get ready for evening chores. Call your brothers in, please.”

Valerie changed clothes, went to the top shelf of the closet where Uncle Seth kept the fireworks and picked out a M80 firecracker. On her way through the kitchen she fetched two wood kitchen matches and skipped out the screen door headed to the barn. She leaned her weight into the sliding barn door and kept it moving until it was full open. Birds started streaming past as she struck a match and lit the fuse. She stared at the spitting fuse for a second then pulled back and flung it as hard as she could towards the roof.

The firecracker reached its apex and started down. At the haymow level it exploded with a concussion that thumped their ears. The birds, seeing the open door barreled out by the dozens, and Dawson and Bucky stood looking down at their little sister, mouths gaping open.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bucky yelled.

“I’m gonna tell Mama that you’re cursing,” Valerie said.

“I’m gonna beat you to a pulp when I get down there.”

Dawson laughed. “Beat you down,” he said and pitched off in a somersault to land on his back in the loose hay stacked on the floor. He slid down the side to the cement. Bucky climbed down the ladder.

“Mom said to call you in,” Valerie said.

“Did you mean to call us in or blow us up?” Bucky said.

“I was saving the birds.”

“Big deal. We’ve got a million birds.”

“How many did you kill today?”

“Nine before you blew us up.”

“Serves you right for killing helpless birds.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t set the barn on fire. Tell Mom we’re comin’.”

AFTER SUPPER, SERENA SLIPPED upstairs and reappeared in a cute outfit much more suited to a night on the town than lounging in front of the TV.

“Hmmm—date?” Ginny asked.

“Yes, indeed. Mr. Thad Percy is springing for a movie and popcorn.”

“Serena, I don’t feel comfortable with this—you dating Thad while my brother is somewhere on the river. I feel like a conspirator.”

Serena took both of Ginny’s shoulders in her hands and looked her in the face. “Ginny, you helped promote this. I love Richard, but we have no commitment to each other and I don’t want to be a lonely irritable old woman waiting around for my knight to come back from the crusades. Thad is enjoyable and it gives me a break. I’m not sleeping with him or anything.”

“Oh, I know that. It just makes me feel that I should be doing more to keep you primed for Richard.”

“He’s had three years of priming. It’s time for the pump to flow.”

They laughed. Serena grabbed her purse and opened the door. “Be back before midnight, Mom.”

Ginny chuckled. “You see to it young lady or the door will be locked tight.”

THAD PERCY AND SERENA parked in the Keno parking lot and walked to the restaurant entrance. Thad reached for her hand and she let him clasp it.

He smiled to himself. Hot damn—I’m on first base.

They took a booth and ordered.

“What did you think of No Country for Old Men?” Serena asked.

Thad shook his head. “A lot of gratuitous violence. And what was the point of it?”

Serena puckered her lips together. “I don’t know and I don’t know why they would consider it for a Pulitzer Prize either.”

“Is it the Pulitzer or the Nobel?”

“I don’t know. I get them mixed up.”

“And you a school teacher.”

“Well—I don’t teach English or writing.”

Thad smiled. “I know.” He allowed his eyes to take her all in from the top of her head, the cascading hair, the classic collar of her form fitting suede jacket—to her hands clasped in front of her. He reached out and laid his hand on hers. The action brought their eyes together. He maintained his smile.

Serena cracked a wry smile, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” Thad shrugged. “What do you want it to mean?”

His hands still overlaid hers. “Thad—we’re friends. I enjoy being here with you but please don’t think I’m making any sort of commitment,” she shook her head, “because I’m not.”

He nodded. “Understood.” He bit his lower lip gently, picking at a piece of loose skin inside his mouth, then took a deep breath and let it out. “But it’s good to be here with you.”

Serena frowned. “I didn’t lead you on, did I?”

“No. Just my optimistic approach to events.” He sat back in the booth removing his hands from hers. “I thought after we had coffee that you were in the mood for further interaction.”

“Interaction—yes. Romance—no.”

Thad delayed his thought a minute. “You really hooked on Richard? He’s twenty years older than you.”

“Age doesn’t play much of a part at this time of my life.”

“I can’t offer you the financial security he can, but you won’t have to change my diapers or remind me where my keys are.”

“Please change the subject,” she said.

The waitress delivered their order with a banging of ceramic on wood and a clatter of flatware. “Anything else?”

Thad shook his head and sat with his hands in his lap, his eyes focused on the plate of food.

How do I get around this? I was on first base in the parking lot. She can’t throw me out at second.

“Hmmm, smells good,” he said. “We can go for a drive after supper.”

Trespassing on the river

CRAIG JAMISON GOT UP and closed the door to his office. He didn’t want this conversation going any further than the edges of his desk. He dialed Klete Dixon.

“Klete,” Craig said. “We’ve come up with the implementation process.”

“What about the timing?”

“That’s part of the process. They left May 1^st; they have sixty-one days, which brings them to June 30^th.” Craig doodled on a pad in front of him. “They are working on day 48 so they have thirteen days left. Bud is willing to implement a little used law that won’t harm them and is completely valid and defensible in any court in Nebraska.”

“And it will buy us the time we need?”

“Bud and I agree on that.”

“Do you need any funds?”

“Not yet. You can cover those if any appear.”

“I’m counting on you, Craig. Or should I address you as Senator Jamison?”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Keep me apprised.”

Craig nodded. “Will do.”

Craig pursed his lips and looked at the telephone receiver in his hand for a minute, his other hand drumming on his credenza. He punched in the numbers for Sheriff Bud Pinsky’s private phone. He waited through three rings.

“Pinsky here,” the voice said.

“Bud—time to implement the trespass issue.”

“How much time do we need to erase?”

“Three days.”

It was silent on the other end. Finally Bud said, “I’ll get on it.”

Craig turned his chair and looked out his office window to the parking lot. “No personal involvement this time. Make sure it’s all legal.”

“Will do.”

He cradled the phone, crossed his feet on the desk and made a tepee of his fingers. Let’s see if he can follow through with this simple task. Craig shook his head. The boy hasn’t garnered any intelligence awards so far.

BUD GOT OUT PAPER and pen and wrote down the counties coming east along the Platte River: Dawson, Buffalo, Hall, Merrick, Platte, and Dodge County before they arrived in Cass County, where, until his trial came up, he ruled the roost. He chewed on the pen, pictured the sheriff in each county and what he could count on his doing at his request. Then he started making phone calls.

Thad doesn’t get it

THAD SHOWERED, SHAVED, AND cleaned his fingernails. Then he put on a bathrobe and sat looking out his apartment window. An envelope of silence clung to him, which always put him in a reflective mood. Somewhere amongst the 68,000 free ranging items stored in his mind was the answer to what the hell was going on in this town. Such as, “Why would normally good and law abiding guys like the Barrett brothers be getting into trouble with the law on the river? And why would wealthy guys have banking problems? His last casual meeting with Serena brought that to his attention.

THAD SHOOK HIS HEAD. “I’m neutral. I report—not take sides.”

“Why do your stories in the paper always seem to side with Pinsky?” Serena said.

“Don’t think they do. I write what I find out. As new information becomes available I put it out so the public can make up its own mind.”

“Public mind? I doubt that.”

Thad moved forward from the hips. “Why are you asking this?”

Serena thought about it for a second. “Maybe it’s just me but the Journal seems to come down on Pinsky’s side every time there is a story about him in there.”

“It has to be Pinsky or Barretts—maybe Dixon.”

Serena shook her head. “You should go back and read your stories.”

“I can,” Thad offered. “But that won’t change my mind.”

“Thad, can’t you see there is something sinister going on the way things are happening? It isn’t just happenstance. It is a concerted effort to delay Seth and Richard with the ultimate goal of acquiring the Barrett Ranch.”

He tilted his head to one side. “Could be. What do you know that I don’t?”

“I’m just putting the puzzle together piece by piece. What do you know about Filoh Smith and how he works into this problem?”

Thad thought back to when he was a boy and Filoh had just sold out and moved out of town. “Not much. He returned to town just before the Barretts took off on their odyssey.”

“That’s it?”

His eyebrows lifted. “What do you know?”

“He had a list in his belongings at Brewster’s B&B. Ten names, all big farmers along the Platte. Any idea why he made that list?”

Thad shrugged. “Any number of reasons.” He leaned forward. “First of all, Filoh Smith was over ninety. Secondly, he had a case of environmental daydreams and no direct living kin—nobody to rein him in. Thirdly, he was angry at the way farming had developed, so much so that he was willing to commit his money and time to bringing about change. Fourthly—he had nothing else to do with the rest of his life. That makes a man dangerous.”

“Dangerous? To whom?”

“Those ten farmers.”

“Do you know he tried to blow up a sprinkler tower on Dixon’s farm?”

Thad nodded. “I’d been told that.”

“You never wrote about it?”

“Why would I write about something like that? No prosecution, no witnesses, no damage—no story.”

“OK—what about Pinsky?”

“What about him?”

“Where do you come down on his indictment?”

“Look,” Thad said. “I’ve known Bud Pinsky since middle school. He’s an all right guy. He always had a crush on Ginny Barrett and maybe his groin got ahead of his brain in this case, but he’s been a good enough sheriff and a good citizen for all the years I’ve known him.”

“Is he involved with Klete Dixon?”

“Everybody’s involved with Klete Dixon.” He waved his hand in a broad sweep. “You couldn’t go anywhere in this town and not find somebody that’s involved with Klete Dixon. He’s big, he’s powerful, he’s honored, and many people owe him a favor.”

“Including Craig Jamison?” she said.

“Probably. Dixon has always contributed to his political funds.”

“And Pinsky?”

Thad nodded. “Undoubtedly.”

“Then we have a conspiracy.”

Thad grimaced. “That’s hard to prove. In a small town like this everyone works together for the good of the community. Factions develop from time to time, but nothing as strong as a conspiracy. Everything is pretty much out in the open. Laundry is hung out on the line to dry—everyone can see what you’re wearing.”

“Try this on” Serena said. “Klete Dixon bought the house I was renting and kicked me out. He was behind my firing to get me out of town and throw a monkey wrench into my relationship with Richard Barrett, a delaying tactic. He bought up all the freeze-dried food in town forcing the Barretts to go to Omaha to get supplies for their trip, another delay. He pushed Pinsky to get the sheriffs of counties up the Platte to delay Barretts on their trip.”

“Peanut items. How do you come by that information?” Thad said.

“I’m living out there. Information is coming in all the time.”

“Sounds like you’re working for Barretts.”

Serena shook her head. “I’m just stating facts.”

He looked up into her eyes. “Who are you trying to hoist on his petard?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Seems we have two factions here—the Barretts and the Dixons. Where Jamison and Pinsky and those who do their will fit in is still to be resolved.”

Thad snorted. “You just picked all the main players and formed your own teams. Craig Jamison is the lawyer for Mae Barrett’s estate. He courted her for years after her husband died. They were more than friends. And as for Pinsky and Dixon, they are in the public eye all the time. Sure the sheriff is indicted but nothing is proved and he is innocent until proven guilty—you know that. I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Serena looked at her intertwined fingers resting on the tabletop. “Just when do you come down on one side or the other at the Journal?”

“That’s editor’s work,” Thad said. “I just do the writing.” He smiled.

THAD PERCY HEARD HIS editor on the phone when he passed the open door.

The editor turned his head. “What’d you find out?”

“Not much. A lot of loose information. Awful loose. Nobody seems incensed by stuff going on. In fact, most of the people I talked to wanted both organic farming and lower prices. They liked Pinsky but were against sexual assault. They liked Serena but didn’t mind that her contract was not renewed. Nobody knew anything at all about the events of the Barretts on the river. I feel like I’ve been dropped into a blender.”

“THAD IS PRETTY NEUTRAL,” Serena said. Ginny put six potatoes in boiling water. “I can’t tell if he has made up his mind or if he just has the sponge brain of a journalist and is taking in all the information he can before he has to write something.”

“Nobody seems to be concerned. The thing that’s bothering me is that Jamison hired some people from Omaha to investigate the circumstances but we can’t find out who they are or what they are doing.”

“You think we’re the ping pong ball?”

Ginny nodded. “I’m getting that feeling.”

“NOW,” THAD SAID, TALKING to himself. “I don’t know where to go from here. Ginny is clean as a whistle. Serena seems to have committed no big sin—other than sleeping with Richard Barrett. Richard has raised a few hackles on the school board but is generally thought of as a good guy by everyone else. Seth is a reformed alcoholic and a womanizer, but currently acting like he’s cured of both. Pinsky gets re-elected by huge margins, Jamison is almost a shoo-in for the junior senator job, and Klete Dixon has more honors and awards for good citizenship and farming than he can hang on a large wall. I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.”

Who gains from this activity? Always the place to look.

Bud Pinsky makes a request

LEXINGTON SITS ALONG THE Platte River in Dawson County. Dawson County elected Sheriff David Briggs to enforce its laws and ordinances and keep it safe from harm. For eighteen years Sheriff Briggs had done that. The call he received from Sheriff Bud Pinsky was different from the first call several weeks ago. This time, instead of swine flu, it had to do with trespassing. He had two reports of cattle out, a dog running loose near the intersection of Highway 30 and North Jackson Street, and an abandoned car at Plum Creek Park, which should be the city police’s problem but had been bumped over to his department for reasons unknown by the caller.

“Morning, Dave. Pinsky here. Where did I catch you this morning?”

“Good morning, Bud. I’m in Lexington with a to-do list as long as my arm. What do you need?”

“I’m getting reports that the Barretts are doing some serious trespassing as they come down the Platte. Getting out of a canoe anytime they want, camping anywhere they want, no permission from landowners. I’ve talked with the sheriffs of five other counties and we’re thinking this kind of disregard for common law has to be made an example of. You catch my drift?”

Sheriff Briggs nodded. “I see your point but I don’t know that it is worth enforcing. Don’t think we’d get a conviction on it. Juries here are more likely to give them a warning rather than convict.”

“That’s all right,” Pinsky said. “But the sheriff’s job is to enforce the law and trespassing is clearly against the law. These guys need to be stopped and taught a small gentle lesson. They just can’t do as they damn please. A night or two in jail could remind them that sheriffs up and down the Platte are serious about complaints from their citizens.”

“You’re suggesting I jail them? They’ll bail out in two hours…”

“…Yes, I know that, but not if you arrest them at night. But dammit, we—the sheriffs up and down the river—need to set an example that we’re willing to enforce the laws on the books and protect our citizens from trespass. A good show like that could last all summer. Discourage others from flagrantly disregarding the trespass laws. You know—the hunters and the air boat people.”

Sheriff Briggs was silent a moment. “Ok—so what?”

“Stop ‘em; hole them up in your jail; fine ‘em a few bucks, then let ‘em make bail. Later you can drop the charges but everyone will hear about it and it should stop others from disregarding the law. Trespass is becoming an epidemic around here.”

“This isn’t another scam like the swine flu, is it?”

“Honest to God, Dave, that tip came from a prominent citizen and I thought you were the best man to get to the bottom of it. And I thank you for your response to that last call. If you would assist with this one, I’d be beholden to you.”

“OK—I’ll give it a shot. You have any time line for their arrival?”

“I’m told, again by a prominent river bank citizen, that they should show up close to Lexington tonight. And as dry as it is this year, don’t let them build any damn fires on the banks.”

Dave Briggs shook his head. Cows out, dogs loose, abandoned car, and now a real serious trespass potential. I thought, as sheriff, I would be chasing real honest to god criminals all day long and when I went home at night and took off my gun belt I could regale the wife with harrowing feats of courage, cunning deployment of my troops, and the jailing of serious offenders of the law. Hell—I could send the Boy Scouts down to the river to tell the Barrett brothers to quit trespassing. Likely they have been trespassed on at their spread. On the other hand, Pinsky and I raised a little hell at the 1990 convention and I’d not like what we did to be broadcast anywhere and Pinsky just might go public if he got pinched hard enough. Besides…I’m well within the law and it’s only a delay. No big deal.

“Up we go,” he said and stood, adjusted his gun belt and reached for his hat. “Smile, citizens of Dawson County, your sheriff is on patrol.” As he walked through the front part of the office he spoke to the dispatcher. “Where is that fifty pound bag of doggy treats?”

She pointed at a closet. He opened the door and grabbed a handful, slid them by his nose. “They smell good. No wonder they work on stray dogs.”

Another jail visit

THE LIGHT BLINDED SETH. He put his hand over his eyes and the pain stopped. “My gawd that’s bright.”

“Come out here…please,” the voice said. “Sheriff David Briggs of Dawson County.”

“You again?” Richard said. “What time is it?”

“Doesn’t make any difference what time it is. Trespassing, plain and simple. Grab your personal items, we’re going into town.”

Richard roused out. “What kind of nonsense is this, Sheriff?

“You’re breaking the law. The law of Dawson County and every other county on the Platte River. Now don’t tell me you don’t understand trespassing or I’ll lock you up for ignorance.”

“Who’s going to look after our stuff?” Seth said.

Briggs nodded. “I’ll leave one of my deputies to keep watch over it. Any liquor or firearms in there.”

Richard said. “Scotch and a .30-30.”

“Leroy,” Briggs said. “Bring the whisky and rifle and follow us in.

Darrell, you hang out here until we get back. And don’t build the fire up too high, the country’s drier than the dugs on a boar.”

Briggs put the car in gear and started for town. “I need to drop by a place and tease a dog out. You gentlemen don’t mind if I take a little detour?”

Seth looked at Briggs. “I guess there’s not much we can say about that. You’re drivin’.”

“That’s what I like. Nice compliant common trespassers.”

He drove to Highway 30 and North Jackson Street, shut off the motor and looked around. “You boys see a dog, holler.”

The headlights of an eighteen-wheeler headed West on Highway 30 lighted up a dog off to the side. Sheriff Briggs started up the car, turned on his flashing lights and slid over by the embankment. He opened the door and threw one of the doggy treats out.

He whistled. “Come here, fella.”

The dog, part everything from each barnyard, sniffed the treat and snatched it. Briggs threw another piece, closer to the rig.

“Would one of you open the tail gate?” He pushed a button unlocking the rear door. Seth stepped out and lifted the SUV door. Briggs threw some doggy treats into the back of the vehicle. “Put them around back there. I want to lure him in.”

“Am I employed by the county now?” Seth said.

“Yeah. Full benefits including board and room.”

The dog was not wary. He followed the trail of the treats and when he got to the tailgate, his nose told him there were more inside. He made the leap and was into the second treat when the door closed. He watched it close then went back to the food.

“Cross that one off my list,” Briggs said. He took a deep breath. “Now to resolve this trespass issue.”

“SHERIFF,” THE BAIL BONDSMAN said. “What’s up this time of night?”

“Your ad says 24 hour service.”

“I gotta change that thing. I’m too old to get up in the middle of the night.”

“Hell, Jensen—it’s only 11:30.” He brushed dust off his pants. “Got a couple of trespassers needing a bond.”

“How serious is this?”

“Not serious, but legal.”

“Ok, but I can’t get over there until tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“Make it noon.”

“I’ll tell them.” Briggs hung up the phone. He sat for a moment at his desk, his left foot perched on the top showing the tip of the ankle holster. He noticed that and pulled his pant leg down to cover it. In all his years as a lawman he had never had occasion to use the little Walther .380 but it gave him ease of mind when he put it on every morning over his calf high socks.

“Gentlemen. The bail bondsman will be here at noon tomorrow. I gotta get rid of that dog and we’ll see you with a nice hot breakfast at 7:00 am sharp.”

“Sheriff,” Richard said. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Trespassing. Gotta make an example. People can’t just trespass all year long and expect law enforcement to turn a blind eye.”

“How many others have you cited for trespassing in oh…the last three years?” Richard said.

Briggs buckled up his lips and shook his head. “Not many.”

“How many?”

“You know, I’m not the law breaker here. I ask the questions. I don’t answer other people’s questions.”

Richard took another stab at it. “Is this another Pinsky call?”

Briggs snorted. “Good night, gentlemen. See you in the morning.”

SHERIFF BRIGGS DID NOT see the dog when he got in his SUV. He called to him but got no response. A strange smell permeated the inside. He got out and opened the lift gate. The dog lay on his side, unresponsive. There was vomit on the carpet and leaking from the dog’s mouth. He put his hand on the dog’s chest and could feel no heartbeat. He pried the eyelid open but the exposed eye was non-seeing. Briggs shook his head. “I’ll be damned. This doesn’t bode well.”

Thad tries again

SERENA OPENED THE SCREEN door and stepped onto the porch. Thad Percy almost swallowed his gum. He scooted around the back of the car and opened the passenger side door for her. His eyes rested on her legs as she slid onto the seat. “Good to see you,” he said.

She smiled. “Did you see enough?”

“There is always the desire for more, isn’t there?”

She looked at him, the smile infectious.

“That’s an old journalistic question. When is enough--enough?”

“We’ll have to decide that.”

He got in the car, closed the door, started up and backed out of the driveway. “I’ve picked a nice quiet place where we can talk uninterrupted,” he said. “Do you like Chinese food?”

AFTER SUPPER AND IN no hurry, they sipped hot sake from a small porcelain cup.

“I’m thinking of taking a teaching job in Omaha,” Serena said.

“Did you get what you wanted?”

She nodded and set her cup down.. “Almost everything.” “It’s hard to tell what a school district can and can’t do. “

“You seem distracted…a little distant tonight.”

She twirled her cup with both hands on the tabletop before answering. “These problems out at the ranch have us all distraught. There seems to be some connection between Klete Dixon, Jamison, and the sheriff, but we can’t put a finger on it.”

Thad chuckled. “That’s the big question.”

“Your opinion?” she said.

Thad sat back in the booth and stared at the steam rising from the sake. “My opinion doesn’t count for much. My editor can and does edit most stuff I write. I’m not on a crusade but little bits and pieces float before me from time to time and when I try and put them together my editor says it is just conjecture and to stick to reporting facts and news. Well, dammit, conspiracy to commit a crime is news, but the paper isn’t in the business of accusing people it doesn’t have facts to collaborate.”

“And you have no facts?”

Thad nodded. “I’ve got some but I can’t connect the dots…yet.”

“Like what?”

“Like the dead cow at the Barrett ranch—killed on purpose to intimidate? The indictment of Sheriff Pinsky on sexual assault—what was that about? The death of Filoh Smith on the river trip. The various miscellaneous arrests of the Barrett brothers on charges of trespassing that goes unnoticed the rest of the year. Seems too much to be coincidental, yet tying them together has been impossible.”

“The sheriff doesn’t care for you much, does he?”

“I suppose not. I ask a lot of questions and he doesn’t answer many.”

“I can tell you one thing we found.”

Thad leaned forward. “Oh?”

“Two kids camped in that little pasture behind the solid waste station out by the ranch…you know the one….” He nodded ”They saw the Sheriff’s car stop and he threw something in. Turned out to be a pair of rubber gloves and blood covered overalls.

“Which kids?”

“The Clement kids.”

Thad’s eyes roamed over the room. That information still didn’t close the circle.

“Ok,” Serena said. “I told you one, now you tell me one.”

Thad chuckled. “The Lexington Clipper-Herald called me this morning to ask if I knew anything about why the Barrett brothers were in jail in Lexington. The reporter doing the court house and police report found they were put in jail last night for trespassing.” He snorted. “Their trip has become a state wide story. You know… the kind of thing where reporters write things like, “The aging Barrett brothers reliving the original homesteading trials of Great Grandfather Melzer…etc. etc. etc.”

“For crying out loud. Trespassing? On what?”

Thad shrugged. “Private land. Technically you can’t step foot on the river bed or banks because the owners on either side own to the middle of the traditional channel.”

“That’s kind of crazy,” she said.

“Crazy, yes. But illegal just the same.”

“So the Barretts are in jail. Who would have sprung that trap? I’m sure the sheriff wasn’t standing around waiting for someone to step in six inches of water.”

“I’m going to find out tomorrow, if I can. The brothers have less than two weeks to get back here or else the ranch goes bye bye. The river is drying up. They could be trespassing every day if they have to walk their canoe down the river. What if every sheriff along the way sticks them in jail for a day or two? They don’t make it; the ranch goes away; somebody wins and somebody loses in that scenario. I’d like to find out who wins. I know who loses—the Barretts.” He pulled the lobe of his ear. “How is Ginny doing running the ranch?”

“She’s hired some extra people to work the farm and livestock along with her kids. They are a pretty productive group. I’m living there now and help out in the house.”

“I saw you with her at Mom’s the other day,” Thad said, a brief smile on his face.

“We’ve become good friends.”

Thad nodded and upended the sake cup in his mouth. “Let’s take a drive.”