Mason frowned.
"There's a backward side?"
"Apparently."
Gabriel laughed so hard he had to put down his hammer.
By late afternoon, the damaged wall had been replaced, the new supports were in place, and the roof had begun to take shape.
Walter stood in the doorway, studying the work.
For a moment, he saw the barn as it had been years earlier, when his wife was alive and the farm had been full of activity.
He remembered her voice.
He remembered the smell of fresh hay.
He remembered the sound of Sarah running across the yard as a little girl.
Then he heard Daniel calling from behind him.
"Grandpa! Look!"
The boy held up a small wooden sign.
It had been cut from a piece of leftover timber and painted by hand.
The letters were uneven, but readable.
BRIGGS FARM — BUILT BY MANY HANDS
Walter stared at it.
"Who made that?"
Daniel pointed toward the garage.
"Uncle Gabriel helped me."
Walter looked at Gabriel.
The biker shrugged.
"Kid had an idea."
Walter swallowed.
"That's a good sign."
Daniel grinned.
"Can we put it above the door?"
Walter nodded.
"Yes. We can."
And together they carried it inside.
Not every day was easy.
In May, Walter received a letter from an attorney representing a distant relative who had learned about the restitution proceedings.
The letter questioned the ownership of a narrow strip of land bordering the old railway corridor.
The claim was weak, but it reopened old fears.
Walter read the letter twice.
Then he folded it and placed it on the kitchen table.
For several minutes, he sat without moving.
The old feeling returned.
The sense that trouble was approaching and that he would once again have to defend everything he had worked for.
He called Sheriff Carter.
She arrived that afternoon.
After reviewing the documents, she told him that the matter was civil and that the claim appeared to have little foundation.
"Still," she said, "you should have your attorney review it."
Walter nodded.
"I thought we were finished with all this."
"We are finished with the people who tried to steal the town. That doesn't mean nobody will ever make another claim."
Walter looked out the window.
"I'm tired of fighting."
Evelyn sat across from him.
"Then don't fight alone."
It was a simple sentence.
But it mattered.
She helped him contact the legal team working with the Neighbors Fund. Within days, the claim was formally challenged. The attorney withdrew it after receiving the documented survey and ownership records.
Nothing dramatic happened.
No chase.
No confrontation.
No motorcycles roaring down a highway.
Just paperwork, careful review, and a legal process that worked as it should.
Walter found that surprisingly satisfying.
He had spent much of his life believing that strength meant standing your ground when someone threatened you.
Now he was learning that strength could also mean asking for help before the threat became overwhelming.
In June, Gabriel received a call from a hospital two counties away.
His younger brother, Thomas, had been injured in a workplace accident.
The injury was not life-threatening, but it required surgery and several weeks of recovery.
Gabriel left immediately.
Mara went with him.
For the first time since the night of the storm, Walter found himself worrying about the Callahans.
He called Mara the following morning.
"How is he?"
"He's going to be all right," she replied. "The surgery went well."
"Good."
"Gabriel hasn't slept much."
"That sounds like Gabriel."
Mara laughed softly.
"He keeps pretending he's fine."
"That also sounds like Gabriel."
Walter hesitated.
"Do you need anything?"
"We're managing."
"That's not what I asked."
There was a pause.
Then Mara said, "Actually, yes. Could you check on the house while we're gone?"
"Of course."
"And the mail?"
"Yes."
"And the dog?"
Walter smiled.
"Now you're giving me a proper list."
Mara thanked him.
For the next week, Walter visited the Callahan house every day. He collected the mail, watered the plants, and fed their old dog, Ranger.
One evening, he found a package on the porch.
It contained a photograph of Gabriel and Thomas as children, standing beside their father outside a small garage.
Walter carried it inside and placed it on the table.
When Gabriel returned, he found the photograph waiting.
He stared at it for a long time.
"Where did you get this?"
"It was delivered while you were away."
Gabriel picked it up carefully.
"I haven't seen this in years."
"Your brother?"
Gabriel nodded.
"He used to follow me everywhere."
Walter looked at the picture.
"Looks like he trusted you."
"He did."
"Still does, I expect."
Gabriel placed the photograph down.
For a while, neither man spoke.
Then Gabriel said, "I used to think being the oldest meant I had to handle everything."
Walter nodded.