is down at the creek with some friends,” I said, tucking the wrapped watch into my pocket. “He will be back before lunch.”
Gavin nodded, but his eyes remained on the barn door, as if he expected someone else to emerge.
By noon, the temperature had reached ninety-four degrees, and the air inside the kitchen felt thick. Blake stood by the counter, cutting
roast beef sandwiches into neat halves and placing them on a yellow platter.
Gavin sat at the oak table, his fingers tracing the edge of his water glass. “The flight over the plains always makes one realize how vast this country is,” he said.
Blake set the platter down in the middle of the table. “Eat up,” he said.
Gavin said, taking a sandwich. “I noticed several new fences on the drive from the airport. The county seems to be growing.”
“People are moving in,” Blake said, sitting down and rubbing his thumb against his palm.
“I imagine that does wonders for the local economy,” Gavin said, leaning back. “What is an acre of pasture going for along the northern
idge these days?”
I paused with my sandwich halfway to my mouth, looking between the two of them. “Why do you ask?”
“Just keeping abreast of things,” Gavin said, his tone perfectly light. “It is always wise to know exactly what our assets are worth, Gwen.”
idge these days?”
I paused with my sandwich halfway tomy mouth, looking between the two of them. “Why do you ask?”
“Just keeping abreast of things,” Gavin said, his tone perfectly light. “It is always wise to know exactly what our assets are worth, Gwen.”
said.
“Of course not,” Gavin said, his voice smooth. “But one must always be aware of the market.”
He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly while he stared at the kitchen window.
“The boys will need a solid foundation,” Gavin added, his eyes still on the glass.
plate.
After lunch, the two men walked out toward the north pasture gate to look at the young cattle. I followed a few paces behind, watching the dry grass bend under their boots.
Gavin leaned against the weathered wood of the gate, looking out over the herd. His leather boots were spotless, the dark brown leather showing no creases or dust, completel
unsuited for the dry Oklahoma soil.
“They look healthy,” Gavin said, pointing toward a group of black heifers near the tree line.
“They are,” Blake said.
“And this pasture is fully deeded under the joint trust from the old agreement, I assume,” Gavin said, his hand resting on the top rail.
Blake looked down at Gavin’s pristine boots
then back up at his face. “The deed is secure,” Blake said.
Gavin did not look back at him, his fingers still tracing the signet ring on his pinky. “Of course. One simply likes to be sure of the boundaries.”
A crow called from the top of an oak tree, the sound sharp in the quiet pasture.
“The county has been doing some new surveys lately,” Blake said
his voice flat.
Gavin stiffened slightly, his hand pausing on the wooden rail. “Have they?”
“They have,” Blake said.
Gavin turned his head slowly, looking toward the northern ridge where the boundary line met the county road. “I suppose that is routine for tax purposes.”
“Usually is,” Blake said.
Blake rubbed his thumb against his palm, his gaze fixed on the description of the north boundary line.
“We just need his signature to clear the title, Gwen,” Blake said.
“He was supposed to sign all of this over when we settled the London property,” I said, looking up at him. “Why would the lawyers leave this open?”
am going down to the Johnston County feed store to pick up the mineral blocks,” Blake said. “Gavin said he wanted to ride along.”
“Do not make it an argument,” I said.
“I will just ask him,” Blake said.
The gravel yard at the feed store was blinding in the three o’clock glare, the air thick with the sweet, dusty smell of molasses and dry oats.
the flatbed up to the loading dock while Gavin stood near the shaded entrance, his polished leather boots already coated in a fine layer of gray limestone dust. Gavin twirled his silver signet ring around his pinky finger, watching a young clerk stack fifty-pound sacks of alfalfa.
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