Gerald stared at me, his mouth slightly open. For the first time in my life, he looked small. He didn’t have a wet chuckle or a mouthful of egg salad to hide behind.

He was just a man who had been caught red-handed. The legal battle took another four months, but the outcome was total.

The court declared the quitclaim deed null and void. The farm was returned to Grandpa’s estate, and the probate went through. The hundred and eighty acres are mine now.

Gerald had to pay back every cent of the money he had borrowed against the land to buy those earthmovers. His development company ended up filing for bankruptcy three months later.

He avoided jail time by taking a plea deal that involved heavy fines and probation, but his reputation in town was completely ruined.

I should have felt some massive wave of victory when the judge finally signed the papers. I kept waiting for that feeling to hit me. But mostly, I just felt tired.

The family is completely broken now. My cousins don’t speak to me. My aunt blocked my number. When I see them at the grocery store in town, they turn their carts down another aisle to avoid looking at me.

I drove out to the farm yesterday. The yellow earthmovers are gone, returned to the leasing company. The barn doors are open again, the old wooden ones reinstalled.

I sat on the tailgate of my truck and looked out over the pasture. The Hereford cattle were grazing near the creek, their red coats bright against the green grass.

I pulled the green metal tackle box out of my cab and set it on the tailgate. The original 1964 deed was back inside, sitting right next to Grandpa’s old plastic thermal cup.

I won the farm back. Every single acre of it. But it’s just a Tuesday again, and there’s a lot of fence that still needs fixing.