The Law of the Ridge
That afternoon, Sheriff Miller stopped his cruiser by Nora’s mailbox, leaning on the wooden post as Nora tended her lavender bushes.
"Miller," Nora greeted him, wiping her brow with the back of her gardening glove. "You look like a man with too little paperwork."
"State Supreme Court just rejected Vance's final appeal," Miller said, taking off his sunglasses. "The forfeiture of the logging tracts is complete. Three thousand acres of mountain forest have been deeded permanently to the state trust as a public conservation park."
"What are they naming it?" Nora asked.
Miller smiled faintly. "The Linwood Ridge Sanctuary."
Nora looked up at the high emerald peaks rising against the clear blue sky. For decades, those ridges had been stripped by corporate greed, scarred by machinery, and guarded by armed contractors. Now, they belonged to the hawks, the deer, and the children of the valley.
May you like
"Arthur Linwood would have liked that," Nora said softly.
"He would have," Miller agreed. "Take care of yourself, Nora. See you at Sunday service."
