Page 6 of His Texas Claim

The little girl raced forward, the woman—who I assumed was either her mother or her aunt—letting out a hapless, “Bea, wait!”

It didn’t work. The promise of frogs was too tempting to ignore.

The adults went about their business, but I was also distracted at that point, given that there was a person here with nearly as much enthusiasm as me. I opened the lid carefully, just a centimeter or so, and looked inside. The frog was jostled, but fine.

“He’s a Holt Creek Chirping Frog,” I whispered to the little girl, who was rapt as she looked inside.

“Holt!” Her eyes bugged out. “That’s my name!”

“That’s right—because your family named the creek he lives in.”

“Is it his real name?”

“Not officially. I made it up.”

“Why?”

“Because nobody knows if he has a real name yet. I have to prove it first.”

“Prove what?”

“That he’s not like other frogs.”

Bea considered this. “He looks the same as other frogs.”

I shook my head. “He’s smaller and makes a different sound. See—this is a normal chirping frog—” I imitated their call. Bea laughed. “And he makes one more like this.” I then imitated the other call.

“That sounds the same.”

“Fair enough. I’m not very good at frog noises, I guess.”

“Try it again.”

I did. Same result.

“Nope. Not good.”

“You have a future in peer review.”

“What’s peer review?”

“A group of people who tell you you’re wrong for a living.”

Millie set the other baby down in a bouncer by the counter and came over, one hand braced on her back. “Bea, let the lady breathe.”

“She’s showing me frogs.”

“I can see that.” Millie looked from me to the frog. “So is this just an intellectual exercise or is there a reason for it?”

“It’s for the water rights,” I said—then paused, narrowing my eyes at them. “Wait…is it you all doing this? Because if it is, I would love it if you’d hear my case for why we need to protect the spring upstream⁠—”

“Someone’s petitioning for the water rights?” Stetson cut in.

I looked between him and Millie. “You…wait. You didn’t know?”

Millie shook her head as Stetson paced closer to me.

“Explain,” he said.