Strangers don’t normally agitate me, but today? I almost lost my temper.
The feed store was the starting point. Wearing my typical attire, which included old trousers, boots covered in muck, and yes, my long blond hair tucked under a worn-out ball cap, I was gathering up mineral blocks and fencing wire. I got a confused glance from the man behind the counter. asked if I wanted instructions to the store selling gifts.
My response was, “No, I’m just here to buy the same stuff I’ve been buying every week for ten years.”
He was amused. laughed.
He went on to enquire as to whether my “husband” would be loading the truck.
The cows didn’t seem to care when I told him that my husband had departed five years prior. I manage 240 acres alone. Repair damaged water lines, deliver calves at two in the morning, and carry hay as if it were little. However, when people see the lady portion and the blonde hair, they still make assumptions.
My neighbours even regard me like I’m a rancher. As if I didn’t finish first in my ag science class, Roy, the person across the creek, is constantly “checking in” on my affairs. He’ll say something like, “Sweetheart, don’t overwork yourself.” In the meantime, I fixed his broken water line during a snowstorm last winter.
It builds up even if I try to ignore it. Having to prove oneself twice simply to be viewed as half-capable wears you out.
Upon returning home today, I discovered a message affixed to the door of my barn. No stamp. No return name. All that was written on the folded note was:
“I am aware of what you did to the west pasture.”
About five times, I read those words. They struck me at the top of the ridge like a hard wind. For almost a year, I have been meticulously repairing thirty acres of grazing area in the west pasture, which is my pride and pleasure. When my ex-husband departed, we had tried out some shoddy irrigation plans, and the fence lines were destroyed, the soil was degraded, and there were huge holes. I gave that patch my all, reseeding, fertilising, and repairing the irrigation system to ensure that the grass would grow back robustly. It’s as lush and verdant now as any picture in a rancher magazine.
What “I know what you did with the west pasture” was meant to imply was beyond my comprehension. It could have been a local teen prank. Alternatively, Roy might have left it to shake me. The man isn’t exactly known for penning menacing messages, but he can be as amiable as a prickly pear at times. Still, I couldn’t think of anyone else who would be interested enough in my enterprise to post a mysterious letter on my barn.
I tried to get on with my day after stuffing the note into my back pocket. I needed to call people, feed the animals, and do some chores. But like an obstinate weed, that note kept coming to mind. I realised in the late afternoon that until I had some answers, I would not be able to concentrate. The only sensible thing I could do was to get into my old vehicle and drive to Roy’s property across the stream.
I rolled up to see Roy outside his workshop. When he spotted me getting out of the truck, he began to wave, but when he saw how serious my expression was, he let his arm drop.
“Hi there,” he said. “Everything all right?”
The note was wrinkled from being in my pocket, but I held it up. “Does this sound familiar?”
The words made his eyes narrow. No. You say that was left at your house by someone.
It was nailed to the entrance of my barn.
“Amazing.” He rubbed at his chin’s stubble. “You enquire if Old Man Garrison is trying to trick you.”
Another neighbour who was notoriously irascible was old guy Garrison. He complains about people who transgress his property limits even when they are far away. But he didn’t feel like it. If there was something wrong with him, he would just come up and yell at you.
I shook my head. Not quite yet. I thought I’d begin with you.
Roy grimaced. Not me, anyway. Not my style. His frown then became somewhat more contemplative. “However, I am aware that there has been discussion about you finding a new buyer for your heifers.”
Then I whistled softly. “In these areas, word spreads quickly. Yes, I’ve been considering moving to a different buyer because my present contract doesn’t exactly pay top dollar. However, that is none of anyone’s concern.
Then he shrugged. It’s common for people to gossip. I’ll be honest with you, though: that wasn’t me. Wish I could be of more assistance. Then his throat was cleared. “Well, since you’re here, do you need assistance with anything?”
The irony nearly made me laugh out loud. He was truly providing assistance, which is perhaps the first instance in our lifetime as neighbours that he wasn’t being patronising. I knew I should not vent my annoyance on him. I could see that Roy cared in his own way, despite his complexity. Even so, I told him, “Thank you, but no thanks.” This was a problem I wanted to solve myself.
The following morning got off to a very typical start. I went about my morning routine as normal, feeding the chickens, checking on the main herd and taking my dog, Pepper, for a walk along the fence line. I take Pepper, a big Australian Shepherd mix, everywhere I go. She is very protective, particularly after last year’s coyote problem. The early morning sun caused her tail to wag as she trotted beside me.
I was halfway across the west field when I noticed new tracks that the pond had pushed into the soggy ground. Since Roy has a heavier stride and typically makes deeper imprints, they weren’t mine or his. It appeared as though someone of my size had been around because these were smaller. Nevertheless, I hadn’t gone out that way for at least two days, so why was anyone looking around?
After sniffing the ground, Pepper growled softly. My nerves were on edge. I hurried back to the barn to check for any more notes. Not a thing. However, the barn door appeared to have been damaged, as if someone had attempted to peel the nails off. Even if it was mild and insufficient to do actual harm, it was unquestionably novel.
I felt my heart race. This was no joke from a teenager. Someone was trying to terrify me, or worse, by snooping on me. And for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of unease. I had put too much effort into creating my life here, though, to be driven away by a few strange threats.
I stopped in town that evening to get some extra locks for the barn and to eat at the neighbourhood diner. My friend Lucia was there while I was there. She owns a dairy farm ten miles up the road, which she has successfully transformed into her own business. I blurted out the entire story—the letter, the footprints, the strange scrapes on the barn—when she enquired how I was doing. When I told her what was in the note, she listened intently and her eyes narrowed.
“Are you certain it’s not not someone from your ex’s family?” Lucia asked, setting down her coffee cup. They might be attempting to make a claim.
I hesitated. Although my ex-husband wasn’t originally from this area, he did have some friends in other counties. But ever since he left, he had never expressed the slightest interest in the property. As far as I know, his people hadn’t either. It was kind of a stretch.
I acknowledged, “I’m not sure of anything.” “But I have no time for games.”
I got a shoulder pat from Lucia. Hold on tight. Please notify me if you require backup. To frighten the living daylights out of any intruders, I will set up tent in that west meadow.
Thank you for the offer. It was comforting to know that someone was looking out for me.
The sky was starry and clear when I drove home. The ranchlands were illuminated by the moon like a postcard at night. I noticed movement near the main barn, though, as soon as I turned down my long gravel driveway. I could see someone squatting close to the side entrance, tinkering with something, thanks to my spotlights. I felt my gut lurch.
I shouted, “Hey!” and slammed on the brakes before jumping out. Pepper barked wildly as she ran out behind me. After scurrying to their feet, the figure fled across the meadow, vaulted my fence in a single motion, and vanished into the darkness. I could just make out a glimpse of a slim figure with possibly dark hair, but I couldn’t be certain. The excitement was pounding, and my chest was heaving. It had been someone attempting to force the side door open. The lock was partially undone, and the metal was being scored by new scratches.
I strode inside, secured my door, and rested my head against it to collect my breath. A flurry of questions was racing through my head. Why would you target me? Did money play a role? The land? Some personal grudge? “I know what you did with the west pasture,” was the only hint I had. All I had done, though, was restore it.
By the following morning, I had made up my mind. I needed to know that I wasn’t going to roll over if someone was attempting to frighten me. I spread the word rather than wait to be hounded once more. Telling Roy, Lucia, and even old man Garrison that someone was out there, I called them. I also called the sheriff’s office in the area. They said they would send a constable out to look around.
A pickup truck thundered up in the stable that afternoon as I was fixing a saddle. A tall, serious-looking constable stepped out. As we discussed the trespassing, I showed them the footprints by the pond. The constable gave a nod and promised to monitor the area. They recommended adding a trail camera or two before departing. I mentally noted that I should get some the next time I was in town.
Roy gave me a call the following day. He sounded nearly thrilled. “This will be unbelievable,” he remarked. While I was examining my boundaries, I noticed someone lurking near your side of the creek. While photographing the fence line, they wore a dark hoodie.
I experienced the same rush of adrenaline. Were you able to see their face?
I did, however, track them back to a pickup that was parked on the shoulder. not regional plates. Maybe we can provide the constable the licence number that I scribbled down.
My heart was pounding. “You’ve saved my life, Roy. Send me a text with those numbers.
He said, “Sent already.” And then, softer, “Are you going to be alright?”
I hesitated. “I will be as soon as this is resolved.” I rang the sheriff’s office right away to give them the licence number after thanking him and hanging up.
A few days later, Deputy Longstreet—the same one who had previously visited—called me as I was stacking bales of hay in the barn. After running the plates, they discovered that Ms. Lillian Black, a private property consultant from a few counties over, owned the truck. The constable clarified that a company that has been researching land for a potential development project had recruited Ms Black. According to rumours, they were scouting various ranches to determine whether they could compel the owners to sell or buy them out. They may have meant to frighten me because they wanted me to lose my game so that I would sell out of fear, I realised.
The strain in my shoulders subsided. We were beginning to understand. “They’ve been breaking in to spy on me and then leaving eerie notes to put pressure on me,” I added.
“We’re guessing that,” the constable stated. “Don’t be concerned.” We will ensure them are aware to retreat.
After informing my neighbours and the local farming organisation, a week later, word spread that this development firm had threatened people in neighbouring counties with similar threats. They weren’t violent, but they were enough to make people believe they had no other option but to sell. Because of everyone’s support, we gathered enough proof to file a complaint with the county commissioner. By bringing the situation to light, we eliminated the developer’s ability to work in the dark. They soon stopped trying to harass me, or anyone else for that matter.
I had a wave of relief as it all subsided. Above everything else, though, I was proud. since I didn’t back down or allow them to shoo me away. I had asked for assistance when I needed it, confronted the issue head-on, and discovered that I had far more support than I had thought. I believed for a long time that I had to show myself as a rancher—especially as a woman in a world dominated by men—by doing everything by myself. As it happens, allowing others to help you doesn’t diminish your ability.
The man behind the counter nodded politely when I entered the feed store again. In his eyes, I caught a glimpse of regret. He might have learnt about the trouble or just realised that I was not someone to fool with. Whatever it was, I didn’t need an apology from him. All I wanted was to feel the burden of his presumptions lift. He also didn’t try to help when I filled my own truck with fencing wire, mineral blocks, and everything else.
As the light shone on my dirty windscreen, I drove away, reflecting on how far I had come. Previously, I was irritated by people’s narrow-mindedness. Now? I understand that what matters is what you do, not what other people think of you.
That concludes my West pasture scandal. After seeing a “Cowgirl Barbie,” they discovered that I’m more gritty than glitzy. I manage this ranch, and I do it well, regardless of who attempts to undermine me or cast doubt on me.
I sincerely hope that people learn from this that we are not alone in our struggles. Keeping everyone out and bearing all that weight alone is not what it is to be strong. Admitting you need a little backup can sometimes be the most courageous thing you can do. You’ll be shocked at how many kind folks offer to help once you let them in.
Here I am, still repairing fences, delivering calves in the middle of the night, and transporting hay. I will continue to manage this establishment until I am old and grey, and I will do so according to my own terms. Because I’m more than my appearance and more than any label. The pastures are green, the cows are fed, and the lights are kept on by me. There is no one who can take away my life on this property.
Thank you for reading, and please feel free to share and like this story if it spoke to you or if you have ever felt undervalued or pushed around. It is impossible to predict who would require a little motivation to advocate for themselves. We should all remember that we are all capable of managing our own ranch, wherever and whatever that may be, regardless of what others may think.
