Then he checked the old ledger's description.
His eyes narrowed.
"Where did you get this?"
"My father's records."
"Do you have the original survey?"
"No. The courthouse has the deed, but the attached map is missing from the scanned file."
The surveyor looked toward the road.
"That could explain something."
The daughter stepped forward.
"Explain what?"
He stood and pointed down the lane.
"The bank hired us to locate the boundaries of the property it recently acquired. Our modern measurements show the bank's parcel crossing a portion of the road corridor."
The old woman frowned.
"And?"
"That tells us something about the underlying parcel boundary. It doesn't tell us whether another property has a valid right to use the road."
She studied him.
"So the flags don't mean they can close it."
"Not by themselves."
"Then why did your boss say they did?"
The surveyor hesitated.
"I'm not employed by the bank directly. My company was hired to perform boundary work. The property manager is the client representative."
"You were standing there when he threatened to barricade the road."
"I was."
"You didn't say anything."
The surveyor lowered his eyes.
"You're right."
The admission surprised her.
He continued.
"I should have been clearer about the limits of our work. We had already flagged a historical easement reference in the title material. The exact location still needed research."
The old woman looked at him.
"Then why were you setting those stakes?"
"We were marking measured parcel lines and control points. The orange stakes were not supposed to be a final legal determination of access rights."
Her daughter asked, "Did the bank manager know that?"
The surveyor looked uncomfortable.
"We discussed it."
The younger technician shifted beside him.
The older man glanced at his colleague.
Then back at the women.
"We need to find the historical plat."
The ranch woman pointed toward the brass fitting.
"Can this help?"
"Possibly. If it's the original monument and we can relate it to the deed description, it could be important."
The younger technician spoke for the first time.
"I photographed that post before it was knocked down."
Everyone turned toward him.
He was twenty-six, with short sandy hair and a nervous expression.
The ranch woman stared.
"You did?"
He nodded.
"We photograph field conditions when we establish control. I took several images showing the original post upright and its position relative to our measurements."
"Do you still have them?"
"They're in the project record."
The older surveyor looked at him.
"We need to preserve those."
The younger man nodded.
Then he hesitated.
"There's something else."
The older technician frowned.
"What?"
The younger surveyor glanced toward the ranch woman.
"The bank manager asked whether we could stake the centerline of the road as the new restricted-access boundary."
Silence.
The older technician turned fully toward him.
"He asked you that?"