"Get off this ranch," she ordered, her voice dripping with venom. "Your HOA fines gave us the right to sell it."
The rancher didn’t flinch. He stood his ground like an oak tree, his dark boots planted firmly in the dirt. He looked down at her pointing finger, his jaw tightening slightly. He was annoyed, but he was not intimidated. He knew exactly who she was—the notorious president of the neighboring Homeowners Association, a woman who believed her jurisdiction extended to the horizon.
Taking a slow breath, the rancher decided to give her a brief lesson in property law. He didn't raise his voice; he didn't need to. The truth was heavily on his side.
He opened his hands, gesturing expansively toward the rolling green pastures, the solid wooden fences, and his herd of cattle quietly grazing in the background.