“And nobody’s running Arvid’s family off that land.”

“How many men can you bring along?” I asked.

“Three of us,” Dale said.

“That keeps the ridge quiet and safe, the way your grandpa liked it.”

He reached for his mug and took a slow swallow without looking away from me.

“I’ll see you out at the farm Friday evening,” he said.

By two that afternoon I was sitting across from Patricia Haugen in her Menomonie office, watching her fold her reading glasses neatly over a brown case file.

“If you invite Dale and his friends to hunt free of charge, your legal position is rock solid,” Patricia said, her tone dry and methodical.