Page 65 of Smokescreen

“Whatever you need,” Dippy rushed.

“Perfect—because I’m going to need quite a bit of information from you. But I’ll wait until the barbecue is over so people don’t start asking too many questions. You better still be around. Otherwise, Iwillfind you.”

“I’ll be here,” Dippy promised, his voice trembling. “Just don’t do anything rash. I promise—I’ll help you in whatever way I can. I will.”

“I know you will.” Olive stared at him. “Otherwise, the consequences will be dire.”

Olive went back to the barbecue, her thoughts still racing through her conversation with Dippy. How could the man have been so ignorant? And who was this supposed reporter?

She was going to figure it out.

Just as one of the ranch hands pulled out a guitar and started singing some tunes from the makeshift wooden stage, she watched as an older red truck started up the gravel lane toward the house.

As if reading her mind, Reid appeared beside her. “That is Bob Turro.”

Bob Turro . . . the neighbor who’d wanted to buy some of Reid’s land. According to Reid, he’d become angry when Reid had refused.

“He’s late,” Olive murmured.

“He told me he would be.”

“Noted.” It sounded like the relationship between them was now cordial, at least.

As soon as the man stepped from his truck, it became apparent he was here on a mission. His gaze was set and hard, his steps quick and urgent, and his shoulders stiff.

The man was probably in his late forties with red hair and a matching red beard. But unlike Reid’s beard, this man’s beard was scraggly, long, and unkempt.

Olive braced herself for whatever happened next.

Bob stopped in front of Reid, his cheeks red and his jaw hard. “You’ll never believe what I heard.”

“What’s that?” Reid asked.

Other people stopped what they were doing so they could listen to whatever he had to say. The crowd edged closer. The music seemed to fade.

“I heard the government is talking about taking some of our land,” Bob said.

That was what Wayne had warned them about also. Olive hadn’t had time to research that yet. But Reid hadn’t been approached on the subject, and they had no proof.

“Who’d you hear that from?” Reid asked.

“Willy Barnes over at the Double B Ranch,” he stated. “Apparently, the government has already approached him.”

“At least the government approached him instead of demanding we comply,” one of the women spoke up.

“It usually starts as a request and ends with a demand,” someone else called.

“We can’t let them take our property,” someone else yelled from behind.

“Now, everyone.” Reid turned to the crowd. “Let’s just wait a minute and not jump to any conclusions. We need to find out what’s really going on here and what the government is planning. They can’t come in and take our land without a good reason.”

“I’ve personally always feared they’re going to try to put an oil pipeline through here,” Bob’s nostrils flared. “That was proposed once, and I know some lawmakers want to make it happen. With the recent change in legislature, maybe that’s closer to becoming a reality.”

“I think we would have heard about that by now,” Reid said. “I haven’t seen any uninvited surveyors out here.”

Olive listened carefully, curious where this conversation would go.

“I heard someone is trying to reduce the value of our property and is using different shell corporations to buy up the land,” another woman said. “I heard that’s what happened over at Dan Gilette’s ranch and Pete Warsaw’s.”