Then she told me something else.

The original trust had created an emergency defense fund.

Money deposited in 1924.

The account had grown.

Nearly $400,000.

I sat there staring at the documents.

My great-grandfather had known.

He had understood that one day someone might try to take the farm.

So he had prepared for us.

A century in advance.

The Sabotage

That's when things became dangerous.

First, someone cut the water line to my cattle troughs.

Then my tractor tires were slashed.

My irrigation controls were destroyed.

Fence posts were loosened.

Cattle escaped onto the road.

Then the cameras caught two men dumping industrial waste near my property.

I called the state environmental inspector.

His name was Marcus Delacro.

When he arrived, I showed him the footage.

License plates.

Faces.

Time stamps.

Everything.

He inspected the property.

My farm passed.

Every environmental standard.

Then he filed a report concerning the false complaint.

That evening, Richmond Blackthorne came to my door.

Vivian's husband.

He carried a briefcase.

He opened it.

Cash.

Lots of it.

"One point two million dollars."

I stared at him.

"You want me to sell?"

"You've fought long enough."

"And if I refuse?"

"You'll spend years in court."

I quietly started recording.

He didn't notice.