And the distance between those two positions had cost some of them enough to hurt. She was in the eastern corn section late one afternoon checking the deepest rows moisture levels when she heard a horse at the fence that she recognized by sound. Silas dismounted and came in through the gate, which meant he intended to stay a while. He walked to the edge of the section where she was working and stood there until she finished the check she was in the middle of.
"Riders at the Bell property this morning," he said. "County road. Three of them." She looked up.
"What kind?" "Land office." Her hands stopped. The land office people visited homestead properties for exactly one reason during drought years, to assess whether the required improvements were still in force. If a property showed crop failure, reduced productive occupation, or depleted resources, the inspector had grounds to note deficiency against the claimant's record.
A deficiency notation was not immediately fatal to a claim, but it started a clock. And a clock was something she could not afford. "Did they come here?" she said. "Not today." Silas looked at the corn.
"Your field is visible from the road." "I know." A field this obviously productive does not usually generate an inspector visit. A field that looks productive while the owner looks stretched might. She stood up fully.
"I'm not stretched." "You're running water for four families from a single well, harvesting on a modified schedule because of extra draw demand, and you haven't rested a full day since April." He said it evenly. "None of that is visible from the road. What's visible from the road is four acres of standing green corn and a woman who looks like she's been living inside her field for four months."
She did not answer immediately, which was its own answer. "The inspector will come," he said, "probably within the week. When they do, what do they need to see?" She went through it. Cultivated land, maintained improvements, evidence of productive occupation sufficient to demonstrate the homestead claim is being actively worked.
The acreage was obviously cultivated. The improvements, the well, the fencing, the small barn were in good repair because she maintained them as a matter of routine. The productive occupation was the field itself. "They need to see a working operation," she said.
"Then that's what they'll see." When the inspector came on a Tuesday morning 9 days later, Evie was already in the field. He rode a county horse and had a county ledger and was a man of about 50 with the professional neutrality of someone who had seen every variation of the homestead situation and had made peace with the paperwork of most of them. He introduced himself as Kaz Calhoun and said he was conducting a routine assessment in conjunction with the drought year and asked if he could walk the property. She said yes and walked it with him.
She watched him look at things. The well functioning, clean, properly maintained. The barn sound, tools in order, storage adequate. The fence intact on three sides, a recent repair evident on the eastern corner. She did not explain the repair or volunteer any context he hadn't asked for.