“That’s what I want to know.”
“Did he take your land?”
“Not all.”
“North forty.”
“Roy said.”
Nell nodded.
“Worst pasture I had.”
“He offered to forgive half the debt if I deeded it.”
Clara’s pulse increased.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Where is it?”
Nell pointed west.
“You know the dry creek channel?”
“Yes.”
“My north forty borders it.”
Clara knew.
The same shallow geological line crossed her own Section 12.
A sandstone shelf.
She thought of Miriam’s words.
Seep feeds it.
Clara opened the notebook.
Nell read.
Her face changed.
“Dwight knows?”
“Apparently since 1998.”
Nell looked toward the north pasture.
“Clara.”
“What?”
“Dwight’s been buying dry land all summer.”
The sentence settled between them.
“How much?”
“I know of four places.”
“Why?”
“Everyone thinks he’s expanding hay storage.”
Clara looked down at the map sketched in Miriam’s notebook.
A thin pencil line followed the seasonal creek.
Through Whitmore land.
Toward Foster land.
“Maybe he’s buying something else.”
At seven-thirty, Clara called Roy.
He answered irritated.
“It’s early.”
“You've been awake since five.”
“True.”
“Bring your post-hole probe.”
“What?”
“And your tractor.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here.”
“Is this about the melons?”
“No.”
Pause.
“That’s disappointing.”
Roy arrived thirty minutes later.
Clara, Nell, and Roy walked into Section 12.
Miriam’s notebook described an old cottonwood that no longer existed, a cattle gate removed years ago, and a fence line shifted after Luke bought adjoining acreage.
For nearly an hour they found nothing.
Roy became increasingly sarcastic.
“Maybe the secret reservoir moved.”
Clara ignored him.
Nell studied the landscape.
“What would have survived?”
“Stone.”
Clara looked at the entry.
Thirty-seven paces east of sandstone break.
“Sandstone.”
Roy pointed toward a low ridge.
They climbed.
Halfway across the slope, Clara’s boot struck something that did not sound like dirt.
She stopped.
Kicked lightly.
Metal.
Roy knelt.
They scraped away six inches of packed soil.
A rusted iron ring appeared.
Nobody spoke.
They dug around it.
Then exposed the edge of a flat concrete slab.
Roy’s sarcasm disappeared.
“Well.”
Clara pulled the ring.
Nothing.
Roy helped.
The slab shifted perhaps an inch.
Cold air escaped.
Nell whispered:
“Oh my God.”