The section heading read: "Developer's representations regarding adjacent property."
The text, in relevant part: "Whitmore Properties represents that the community's common areas, entrance improvements, and infrastructure are sited entirely within the platted boundaries of the Ridgecrest development, and that no portion of said improvements encroaches upon adjacent private property."
Whitmore had made that statement in a recorded, binding legal instrument to every one of the 140 families who bought a home in Ridgecrest, and it was false. Demonstrably, documentably, surveyably false.
That wasn't just an encroachment claim anymore. That was a potentially fraudulent misrepresentation in a recorded covenant. Every homeowner who had relied on that statement when they purchased their home had a potential grievance against the developer who made it, and it gave Beaumont leverage not just against the HOA board that had been harassing me, but against the company that created the entire problem in the first place.
I sat back in my chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment.
"So," I said, "Cordelia has been fining me for farming on my own land. Her HOA's front entrance is sitting on my land, and the developer who built the whole community lied about all of it in writing to every single homeowner."
"That's correct," Beaumont said, "and she has absolutely no idea. Not one clue."
Outside, my chickens were going about their afternoon business. The apple trees were holding their last fruit of the season. The sun was getting low over the ridge. I picked up my cold coffee and took a long, slow sip.
"All right, Bo," I said, "let's plan this right."