“It’s your land, sure—but enforcement’s tricky. Most of these people will just claim they didn’t see a sign, or didn’t know. And honestly, going to court over it? Not worth the time or money.” “So I should just let them ruin my field?” Eli snapped.
“I’m saying the law won’t be on your side unless you spend more than you’ll save. I wish I had better news.” Eli ended the call and sat in silence for a long time. Margaret brought him a plate of warm pie and sat beside him on the porch steps.
The sun was going down, casting orange shadows across the fields. “What’d Rick say?” “That the law’s not going to help unless you can really afford it.” She didn’t answer. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic and a robin hopping across the porch rail.
By the following weekend, it wasn’t just a few cars—it was a crowd. Eli stood at the edge of the field, surveying what looked like a makeshift overflow parking lot. At least twenty cars, most of them with their tires sunk halfway into the mud, their noses pointing toward the supermarket like faithful dogs waiting for their owners.