“You serve a formal notice of legal exclusion,” Patricia said.

“You post your boundaries to state specifications, and you tell your ex-husband that if he sets foot on your land again it’ll be treated as criminal trespass.”

I drove home as the shadows stretched out across the stubble fields along Highway 12.

The kitchen was chilly when I came back in.

I didn’t switch on the overhead lights.

I went over to the wooden table and sat down in front of the open green canvas ledger.

Arvid’s handwriting looked back at me in the dim dusk, decades of free access recorded in blue ink and pencil.