“I’m in the middle of something.”
“So am I.”
She sighed.
“Can’t the truck go around?”
“No.”
“Use the grass.”
“It weighs twenty thousand pounds.”
“So?”
“So I’m not destroying pasture because you don’t want to walk three hundred yards.”
She became cold.
“You are always looking for conflict.”
The Farm Owner stared at the SUV.
“No.”
“I’m looking at your car.”
“Give me twenty minutes.”
“You have five.”
“What happens in five?”
“I call a tow company.”
Silence.
“You wouldn’t.”
The Farm Owner looked at the delivery truck.
“Four minutes fifty seconds.”
She hung up.
Three minutes later, the HOA President appeared walking quickly down the road.
She was furious.
“You embarrassed me.”
“How?”
“You threatened to tow my vehicle in front of the board.”
“I called your phone.”
“I was on speaker.”
The Farm Owner almost smiled.
“That was your decision.”
She unlocked the SUV.
Then turned.
“You realize we can make this extremely difficult.”
The Farm Owner folded his arms.
“Who’s we?”
“The association.”
“Your association has zero jurisdiction here.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because land records keep agreeing.”
She climbed into the vehicle.
The Farm Owner said:
“Next time I don’t call.”
The HOA President looked through the open window.
“What does that mean?”
“It means move your SUV before I have to find out.”
She drove away.
The Farm Owner allowed himself to believe the warning worked.
For almost a month, the road remained empty.
Then June arrived.
Heat.
Storms.
Cattle flies.
One Thursday afternoon, the Farm Owner returned from town and found the white SUV parked beside the old oak.
Not blocking the road.
He almost ignored it.
Then noticed the HOA President standing in the pasture.
Inside his pasture.
Photographing cattle.
The Farm Owner stopped his pickup.
Got out.
She waved.
“Beautiful animals.”
“What are you doing?”
Her smile faded.
“Taking photographs.”
“I can see that.”
“For the community newsletter.”
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“No?”
“You don’t have permission.”
“To photograph cows?”
“To walk through my gate.”
She looked toward the fence.
“It was open.”
The Farm Owner stared.
“That is how cattle move.”
She laughed.
“I'm not hurting anything.”
“Leave.”
“You need to relax.”
The Farm Owner walked toward her.
Not quickly.
The HOA President lowered the phone.
“Don’t try to intimidate me.”
“I’m asking you to leave my land.”
“Your hostility is concerning.”
The Farm Owner stopped ten feet away.
“Then you should feel safer on your side of the fence.”
She stared.
Then walked back.
At the SUV, she turned.
“You know, people around here used this land long before you bought it.”
The Farm Owner nodded.
“And now I own it.”
“You’re not from here.”