"So they charge me six hundred and forty dollars for using my road, then offer to forgive it if I surrender whatever rights my father secured."
The attorney remained quiet.
The woman laughed without humor.
"That's clever."
"It's a negotiating position. You don't have to accept it."
"Tell them no."
"I will respond formally."
"And tell them the road stays open."
"I'll repeat our demand that they refrain from obstruction while the dispute is pending."
The ranch woman ended the call.
Across the pasture, the foreman was helping a younger ranch hand move a group of heifers toward a sorting pen.
The animals crowded against the gate.
Dust rose around their hooves.
The woman watched them for several minutes.
She had always understood the cost of land.
Taxes.
Interest.
Fence repairs.
Water.
Feed.
Labor.
But she had never imagined a stranger placing a price on the simple act of reaching her own house.
At noon, she received another call.
This one came from her son.
He was forty-eight and lived in Colorado, where he worked in commercial construction management.
He had left Kansas after college and rarely returned except for holidays.
The distance between them had begun as geography.
Over time, it had become something more difficult to describe.
"Mom, what's this I hear about the bank?"
She sighed.
"Good afternoon to you too."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
He had heard about the dispute from a business acquaintance who knew someone involved in regional agricultural development.
The news had made him nervous.
"Why are you fighting the bank?"
The question angered her immediately.
"Because they're trying to block my road."
"Couldn't you negotiate?"
"I have an attorney."
"That's not what I asked."
She leaned against the fence.
"Son, they're demanding money for a road our family has used since before you were born."
"Then pay the six hundred and forty dollars and sort it out later."
She stared across the pasture.
"You sound just like him."
"Like who?"
"The banker."
Her son sighed.
"Mom, I'm trying to be practical."
"So am I."
"You can't afford a drawn-out legal fight."
"You don't know what I can afford."
"I know the ranch has had some tough years."
She went still.
"Who told you that?"
"Mom."
"Answer me."
He hesitated.
"I talked to somebody who knows agricultural lending."
Her expression hardened.
"About my farm?"
"I was concerned."