"A civil matter?" I yelled over the rain. "I can't get to my house!"
"I'm sorry, man. I really am. But if you touch their gate, you're going to jail tonight. You need to call a lawyer on Monday."
Jenkins got back in his cruiser and drove away, leaving me standing in the dark.
I looked down into the ravine. The creek was swollen from the autumn rains, rushing violently over the jagged rocks ten feet below. I couldn't drive across. I couldn't even walk across the bridge, because the iron gate was designed with anti-climb spikes that went all the way up to the stone pillars.
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed my duffel bag from the truck. I parked my rig on the street, climbed down the muddy, treacherous embankment on the side of the bridge, and waded into the freezing, waist-deep water of Miller's Creek. The current nearly swept my legs out from under me. I scrambled up the muddy bank on my side, soaking wet, shivering violently, and furious beyond words.
The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache and looked out my front window. Through the bare trees, I could see across the creek. Brenda Carmichael's house sat on a small hill overlooking my bridge. She was standing on her back balcony, wrapped in a plush robe, holding a mug of coffee. She was looking right at the gate. Even from a hundred yards away, I could feel the smug, victorious smile radiating off her.
On Monday morning, I called David Hayes, the best property lawyer in the county. After explaining the situation, David let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Noah, you're entirely in the right," David said. "What they did is highly illegal. But Brenda is smart. By calling it a boundary dispute, she's forcing us into civil court. We have to file for an injunction, get a new survey ordered by the court, and wait for a hearing. With the current backlog, you're looking at four to six months before a judge orders that gate removed, and it'll cost you about ten grand in legal fees to fight it."
"So, I just have to wade through a freezing river all winter or pay them $15,000 in extortion money?" I asked, my grip on the phone tightening until my knuckles turned white.
"Legally, yes. Unless you want to go to jail for destroying HOA property."
I hung up the phone and walked out to the edge of the creek.
I stared at the gate. It was brand new, expensive, and securely bolted into the ground. If I cut it, I was a criminal. If I smashed it, I was a criminal.