Raymond said, "I do."
Raymond Holt did not have to go looking for his documents. He had known, from the moment Donna's golf cart had appeared at his fence line 3 days ago, that this was exactly the kind of situation where paperwork mattered. He was the son and grandson of men who had understood that land ownership in this country was ultimately a paper game, that what you could prove was more important than what you knew to be true, and that the time to organize your records was before you needed them, not after. He had gone to the filing cabinet in his office on the evening of the first day, pulled the relevant folders, and set them on the kitchen table where they would be ready.
Now he carried them out to the driveway in a manila envelope, and handed them to Deputy Wallace one at a time.
The first was the property deed, a document going back to his grandfather's purchase of the original parcel, with every subsequent transfer and amendment attached in chronological order.
The second was the county assessor's plat map, showing the precise boundaries of the Holt Ranch and the surrounding parcels, including the subdivision to the east, with a clear notation indicating that the ranch property was excluded from the HOA jurisdiction zone.
The third was the well permit issued by the state water authority, listing Raymond Holt as the sole permitted owner and operator of the groundwater well located on the property.
The fourth was the drilling record from the original installation, dated decades before the subdivision had been built.
The fifth was the most recent water rights certification renewed 3 years ago, confirming Raymond's legal entitlement to draw from the aquifer beneath his land.
Deputy Wallace looked at each document carefully. He passed them to the younger deputy. He looked at the plat map for a long time. Then he turned to Donna. He asked her if she could show him the HOA's documentation establishing its ownership of or jurisdiction over the well.