Behind Richard, expensive houses rose above freshly planted trees.
Behind Eli, his family's barn stood crooked against the horizon.
Two worlds.
One boundary.
And one road between them.
By summer, the conflict had become impossible to ignore.
Willow Ridge residents began placing complaints with the county.
Tractor noise.
Dust.
Diesel fumes.
"Unattractive agricultural activity."
That last phrase made Eli laugh bitterly.
"Unattractive agricultural activity," he repeated.
Emma sat across from him at the kitchen table.
"They're trying to make farming sound like a zoning violation."
"They'll try anything."
She opened another envelope.
"This one's about the fence."
Eli stopped.
"What fence?"
Emma slid a photograph across the table.
A temporary wooden fence had appeared along the northern section of the access road.
It blocked half the road.
Eli stood immediately.
"Who put that there?"
They drove up in the old pickup.
The fence was exactly where the photograph showed it.
Fresh lumber.
New nails.
No permission.
Eli climbed out.
A sprinkler hissed across one of the luxury lawns.
He walked toward the fence.
On the other side stood a woman in a white sweater.
She was holding a phone.
"Mr. Harland."
Eli looked at her.
"Did you put this here?"
"No."
"Who did?"
"I don't know."
She lowered the phone.
"My name is Margaret Hayes. I live in number eighteen."
"I don't care what number you live in."
Her expression changed.
"You need to understand that people here are concerned."
"About my road?"
"About safety."
Eli looked at the fence.
"How is a fence in the middle of a road safe?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, another voice came from behind her.
"Mr. Harland."
Richard Caldwell approached.
"You should take this up with the HOA."
"I am."
Richard glanced at the fence.
"We're investigating."
"Take it down."
"I can't."
"You can."
Richard's jaw tightened.
"Let's not escalate this."