She straightened.
"Then we find out what happened in 1979."
Chapter 14: The Son Who Had Stayed Away
Her son arrived from Colorado on a Thursday afternoon.
He drove a dark pickup with construction equipment cases in the bed and a rolled set of engineering drawings behind the passenger seat.
The ranch woman saw him from the porch.
For a moment, she felt the familiar mixture of relief and resentment that accompanied his visits.
He was her eldest child.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Gray beginning to appear at his temples.
He looked increasingly like his father.
That resemblance still caught her off guard.
He climbed out and walked toward her.
"Hi, Mom."
She folded her arms.
"Long drive?"
"Long enough."
"Could've called when you crossed the state line."
"Would you have told me not to come?"
"Probably."
He smiled.
"Then I made the right decision."
She tried not to smile back.
He hugged her.
For a few seconds, she held him more tightly than she intended.
Then she stepped away.
"Your sister's inside."
"I know."
"How?"
"She told me to bring coffee."
The old woman laughed.
"She's getting demanding."
"Must run in the family."
They spent the afternoon reviewing the road documents.
Her son understood construction access agreements, site plans, grading requirements, and the practical implications of moving heavy equipment along a narrow rural road.
He was less familiar with historic agricultural easements.
But he knew enough to see the significance of the twenty-two-foot shift.
He studied the survey.
"That curve was moved after the flood?"
"Yes."
"And Grandpa talked to the neighboring owner?"
"According to the foreman."
Her son looked at the line.
"Then there may be a written agreement somewhere."
"We're looking."
"What if there isn't?"
The ranch woman remained silent.
He continued.
"If the court recognizes rights along the relocated road, that's one thing. But you should understand your physical alternatives."
She looked at him sharply.
"I'm not rebuilding a road because some banker waves a piece of paper."
"Mom, I'm not saying you should."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying we should know what it would cost to reopen the western crossing if we ever needed it."
She folded her arms.
"That crossing hasn't been usable in decades."
"I know."
"It would take culverts, grading, fencing, permits, and serious money."
"I know."
"So why waste time?"
Her son lowered his voice.
"Because a backup route gives you leverage."