“He’s telling them he put pricey infrastructure up there,” Gordon said.

“He says those deer stands make him part owner of the hunting rights.”

“You appraised my land for the county back in September, Gordon,” I said.

“What are those four wooden stands really worth?”

Gordon reached for his coffee, lifted it halfway to his lips, and put it back down without drinking.

“Not one dollar, Amy,” Gordon said.

“They’re homemade boxes slapped together from scraps of green plywood and rusty three-inch nails.

Two have rotted floorboards, and the ladders are spiked right into living oak trunks.”