“If you've got nothing to hide—”
Emily laughed.
“There it is.”
Harold stepped forward.
“What?”
“The sentence people use when they want permission they don't have.”
Samuel finally spoke.
“Emily.”
She looked at him.
“We're all scared.”
His voice was tired.
“That's all this is.”
Emily softened slightly.
Samuel had lost nearly forty percent of his sorghum.
His oldest son was considering selling equipment.
Emily knew.
She said:
“I understand.”
Samuel looked toward the green soybeans.
“Then help us understand this.”
“I’m trying.”
“County's checking pressure.”
Harold scoffed.
“County technician came here because you called him.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow that means you're cleared?”
“He installed an independent meter.”
Walter looked surprised.
“You didn't tell us that.”
Harold looked at him.
“So?”
Walter ignored him.
“What'd it show?”
Emily answered.
“I'm under allocation.”
Walter glanced at Harold.
Harold’s jaw tightened.
“Could still be bypassing before the meter.”
Emily pointed toward the pipe.
“Then find it.”
Harold stared.
“I mean it.”
She stepped back.
“Call the sheriff.”
“Call the water board.”
“Call the county commissioners.”
“Bring whoever you want.”
“But stop standing at feed stores telling people I'm a thief when you don't have proof.”
Harold removed his phone.
“Fine.”
Emily blinked.
He held it up.
“Let's call the sheriff.”
She looked him directly in the eye.
“Go ahead.”
He did.
Twenty-three minutes later, two sheriff’s vehicles came down the gravel road.
Harold folded his arms.
Almost satisfied.
Emily stood beside the gauge.
Walter and Samuel waited several feet behind him.
The first vehicle stopped near the junction.
Sheriff Daniel Reeves stepped out.
Fifty-three.
Tall.
Lean.
Tan uniform.
He had known the Carter family since Emily was a child.
That fact did not make her feel better.
She did not want friendship.
She wanted evidence.
The second deputy parked behind him.
Then another vehicle appeared.
White county utility truck.
Harold frowned.
Daniel Perez climbed out.
The water investigator.
Mud covered his jeans.
His gloves were black with wet soil.
In the truck bed lay a section of black irrigation pipe.
Emily’s heartbeat changed.
Harold saw it too.
“What’s that?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Daniel Perez walked toward an open trench on the northern side of the road.
Emily had not seen it earlier because a low rise hid most of it.
The county crew had dug more than six feet down.
Black pipe emerged from the dirt.
Not county-standard galvanized steel.
Private irrigation polyethylene.
Large diameter.
Heavy wall.
The sheriff looked toward Perez.
“You want to explain?”
Perez removed his cap.