“Before the meeting?”
“Yeah.”
Rachel crossed her arms.
“Professional?”
Ben shook his head.
“Too early.”
He looked toward Cedar Ridge.
“But somebody knew what they wanted.”
Friday night, I locked the machine barn.
Then I locked the farmhouse.
Then I did something I hadn’t done in years.
I took my father’s old Winchester from the safe.
Unloaded.
Cleaned.
Checked.
Loaded.
I wasn’t expecting trouble.
I also wasn’t pretending trouble couldn’t come.
At 10:43 p.m., my motion lights came on.
I looked through the kitchen window.
A vehicle was parked by the gate.
Dark SUV.
No headlights.
I called Ben.
Then I stepped onto the porch.
The SUV remained still.
I didn’t approach.
After maybe thirty seconds, the engine started.
It backed away.
Turned toward the county road.
Gone.
Ben arrived six minutes later.
We checked the fence.
Nothing.
Gate untouched.
No footprints I could distinguish in the gravel.
“Could be reporters,” he said.
“Could be.”
He didn’t sound convinced.
Neither was I.
Saturday morning should have been opening day.
Instead, I woke to silence.
No traffic.
No hayrides.
No cider tents.
No eighteen hundred strangers wandering through my crop.
Just geese over the creek and the steady hum of the grain dryer.
At 8:17, Rachel called.
“Get dressed.”
“I am dressed.”
“Court clothes.”
“Why?”
“Bradley filed for an emergency temporary restraining order.”
“Against what? The corn’s already gone.”
“Against further interference with HOA access.”
I stopped pouring coffee.
“Access to what?”
“Your north field.”
“For what?”
“He won’t say.”
That brought back Trish’s sentence.
You think this is about a corn maze.
By 10:30, we were inside the Cedar County courthouse.
Bradley sat with Trish.
She looked composed again.
Navy suit.
Pearl earrings.
Stack of folders.
The judge was Ellen Marsh.
Sixty-four years old.
Former prosecutor.
Known for two things.
Punctuality.
And impatience with nonsense.
Bradley argued first.
He said Cedar Ridge possessed contractual seasonal access to the Mercer property.
He said my decision to harvest had caused catastrophic financial harm.
He said additional contractual obligations required immediate preservation of access.
Judge Marsh looked over her glasses.
“What obligations?”
Bradley paused.
“Sponsor-related obligations.”
“What sponsor?”
“It’s commercially sensitive.”
“You filed in open court requesting an injunction against a landowner.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Then commercial sensitivity is not high on my list of concerns.”
Bradley leaned toward Trish.
She whispered something.
He stood again.
