Before he could even process the absurdity of the sign, a luxury sedan kicked up gravel as it pulled up to his property line. Out stepped a woman who looked like she belonged in a corporate boardroom rather than on a dirt road. She wore a blindingly bright pink blazer, a crisp white blouse, and a thick pearl necklace. Behind her, standing at a distance like silent enforcers, were two men in dark suits.
The woman marched toward the rancher with an air of absolute, unearned authority. She clutched a white folder in her left hand, her posture rigid with entitlement. There was no greeting, no hesitation.
She stopped just inches from him, thrusting her manicured index finger directly at his chest in a deeply aggressive gesture. Her face was set in a smug, condescending scowl.