"Dad used to make us stop there whenever we brought the cows through."
The old woman smiled faintly.
"He wanted everybody to know where the crossing started."
Her granddaughter looked up.
"Why would a wooden post matter if there was a recorded survey?"
"It helped people see the line on the ground," her grandmother explained. "Your great-grandfather didn't expect a farmer to carry a survey map every time he drove a fence."
The girl studied the photograph.
"That old post looks like it has letters carved into it."
The ranch woman nodded.
"Your great-grandfather carved the year."
"Can we see it?"
"It's still down by the road."
"Then let's photograph it properly."
Her daughter closed the laptop.
"After lunch."
The teenager looked disappointed.
"Mom."
"Grandma has been working since sunrise. We're going to eat something first."
The old woman stood.
"I've got cattle to check."
Her daughter pointed to the chair.
"Sit."
The ranch woman raised an eyebrow.
"Excuse me?"
"Sit down, Mom."
The teenager hid a smile.
The old woman sat.
Her daughter opened the refrigerator.
"What have you eaten today?"
"Coffee."
"That's not food."
"Depends how much cream you put in it."
"Mom."
The old woman sighed.
"You're starting to sound like your father."
Her daughter stopped moving.
For a moment, the kitchen became quiet.
Her father had been gone nine years, but sometimes his absence still entered the room as suddenly as a person opening a door.
The daughter looked toward his photograph beside the stove.
"He would've hated this."
The old woman nodded.
"He would've been furious."
"He'd have driven straight to the bank."
"Probably."
"And made everything worse."
They both laughed.
Then the old woman grew serious.
"I miss him."
Her daughter crossed the kitchen and sat beside her.
"I know."
The older woman's eyes filled.
She rubbed them impatiently.
"I'm too old to be crying over a foolish paper."
"You're not crying over paper."
The ranch woman looked down.
"No."
Her daughter placed a hand over hers.
"You're afraid somebody's going to take the ranch."
The words landed with painful accuracy.
For a long moment, the old woman did not answer.
Then she whispered, "Yes."
Her daughter squeezed her hand.
"Then we'll find out what the law says. And we'll do it together."
The granddaughter quietly closed her laptop.