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“I’ll behave,” Day replied with a hint of annoyance. Moira gave him the same kind of look my own mother used to give me, something that routinely put the fear of God into my soul, but Day seemed unbothered. Jenny was oblivious to what was going on and took the opportunity to lick Moira’s face. She winced, wiping her cheek as she rose to full height.
“That means… don’t touchanything,” she said pointedly.
“I won’t have any fun, don’t worry.”
Moira pursed her lips, and I watched with amusement as Day and his mother faced off in my living room. I knew Moira would give Day the world if he asked for it, and I had the feeling this kid was starting to test that theory.
“You could come with us,” I offered, but Day shook his head, roping his arm around Jenny’s neck. I’d already told him Jenny was getting old, and a walk like this would be hard on her, thus spurring the argument between mother and son.
Day had made up his mind. He was staying with the dog; his mother’s opinion be damned.
“George will check on them,” I assured Moira as we walked outside and toward my truck. She nodded, but I could tell she was slightly uncomfortable leaving him behind. “Does he fight you like this often?”
“He’s… starting to. Eight is the new sixteen, apparently.”
I held open the passenger door for her and decided not to ruin her day by saying Day’s blatant defiance was going to get worse way before he turned sixteen.
“Does he have an uncle around? Some guy to help wrangle him?” I bit down on my words the second I said them. Her personal life was none of my business.
“No, it’s just me and him now. And I know what you’re trying to say,” she said, shifting her weight in her seat as I put the truck in drive and headed toward the gate leading out to the pasture. “He needs a male role model, right? Don’t think I don’t already know that—”
“I’m sorry,” I breathed, looking over at her. “I have younger brothers, that’s all. I know how boys can get.”
“It’s only going to get worse, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” I answered with a soft chuckle, and she smirked at me, rolling her eyes toward the windshield as Dumb and Dumber, the ranch interns, struggled with the latch on the gate. “But he’s a good kid. A smart kid, especially with you as a mom. You’re doing a fine job, I can tell.” I glanced over at her, noticing the blush creeping onto her face.
“Thanks,” she said in a near whisper, turning away from me so I couldn’t see the color rising in her cheeks.
That color did something to me, something that was hard to explain. I wanted to see it again but knew I couldn’t overstep the professional boundaries I’d mentally put in place.
We drove along the dirt road that wove through the pasture, past the ravine and along the fence line for another few miles until we reached the far edge of the property. The house, barns, and warehouses weren’t visible from here, and the horses and cattle didn’t ever wander into the dry, barren area where I parked the truck.
Moira hopped out without a word, pulling her phone out of her pocket and walking to the center of the dry patch. I watched with interest as she scanned the area and began walking around, seeming to mark a specific distance with her steps.
“Do you have any maps dating back to this area before it was settled?”
“This place was settled over a hundred years ago,” I replied, toeing a rock sticking up out of the dry dirt. “Nothing like that was included in the paperwork when I bought the place.”
“Hmm…” she mumbled to herself, her hands placed on her hips, which accentuated her curves to the point my mouth went a little dry at the sight. “This was obviously filled in at some point.”
“What is this, exactly?”
“Likely a pond, or a swampy area that fed into whatever creek used to run along the edge of the property. I’ve seen something like this before down south. A pond that was fed by an underground aquafer was dredged and the water was rerouted to another section of the property. That’s illegal.”
“Well, we don’t deal with crops—”
“No, but way back in the day, this place could’ve been dredged, the creek rerouted, and that water used for the same purpose.” She looked around, then walked away, heading toward the fence original to the property when it was first developed. “Who owns the property on that side of the fence?”
“Some local family,” I replied, walking over to her to stand at her side. The land dipped down into a shallow, dry valley, thick with dead underbrush before breaking into thick, rolling fields of wheat and grass. In the far distance, the metal roof of a small farmhouse was visible, but barely, the roof glinting in the sun.
“Hot Springs has a library,” Moira said, matter-of-factly. “I’m sure they have a public records archive. I could see if they have a map, just so I can confirm this area used to be a pond of some kind.”
“How does that help me?”
She snorted, smirking as she turned to face me with her hands still firmly planted on her hips. “Because if there was a pond here, it’s gone now. Which means the ravine that the EPA is up your ass about used to be a water source to that greenbelt they’re up in arms over. If someone dredged it, even a hundred years ago, that just proves you weren’t up to anything.”
“So, I’d just be shifting the blame—”
