The farmer gives Wes a long, hard stare. My guess is that Wes would like to smack it off him. "It gets baled and sent to a port in California, then shipped across the ocean."
I make a noise of surprise and indignation. Wes sends me a warning look. He looks back to the man, nodding. "Right, right. What are you going to do come summer? Hay is a thirsty crop and it gets pretty hot."
"That's not a concern. I get plenty of groundwater."
"Is that right?" Wes's voice is tight.
The man's gaze narrows. "Why are you really here?"
“You're taking all the groundwater and not leaving any for us. My cows are pasture-raised, and pretty soon there won't be enough grass for them to eat."
"That's not my problem."
I know Wes is the leader of the HCC and therefore should be the one to speak, but I can't stay silent any longer. "Can you suspend your growing through the summer? That's when we need water the most."
It would be one thing if this guy looked at me with dislike, but he's looking at me like I amuse him. He addresses Wes as if I never even spoke. "Good luck with your herd, neighbor."
He turns and walks inside.
My blood is hot. "We can't let him continue this," I hiss at Wes. "He is essentially exporting water. During adrought.”
Wes starts the walk back. "There's nothing we can do, Jessie."
"Like hell there isn't," I shout.
"Keep your voice down," my dad hisses. "I don't like that guy and I don't want him hearing you."
"Buy his farm, Wes. Buy him out and take over his water rights."
Wes sets a pace that is too fast, even for me. His head is bent, and he says, "There isn't money for that, Jessie."
"Take out a loan."
"It doesn't work that way," he thunders. He looks back at me and sees the hurt in my eyes. "Sorry," he mutters. To my dad, he says, "I'm going to call Lonestar."
Another comment I don't understand, but it doesn't matter because I'm not its intended recipient. My dad lets out an angry breath. "I hate that fucker."
"He'll give us a fair price, Dad."
"You mean he'll fuck us over the least."
Wes shrugs and doesn't slow. "What else am I supposed to do? Pretty soon, thinning the herd won't be a choice, but a necessity. And I need to sell before everyone else does and there’s too much supply and not enough demand.”
I speak up. "Maybe we can explore the possibility of expanding what the HCC offers—"
Wes glowers at me. "Quit acting like you know what's going on here."
He lengthens his stride, knowing I can't keep up.
Fine. I slow my pace so that my dad and I can walk comfortably and put space between us and the walking storm cloud in front of us. "Wes is angry." It's a completely unnecessary comment on my part.
"Wes is frustrated, and you keep poking at him."
"Trying to solve a problem is not poking at someone." He doesn't respond, so I ask, "What will happen to the HCC if the drought goes on much longer?"
"We can stay afloat for a while. We might not have enough to buy out that asshole, but we have enough. The real problem is the cows. We can feed them regular feed, but then we'd have to change our entire structure, and all of our branding, to run-of-the-mill beef, and it's not as simple as it sounds. Selling off some cows would be the next logical step. That's what Wes means when he says he'll call Lonestar. It's a ranch in Texas."
It's a punch to the gut. Selling cattle? Thinning the herd? "Dad, I'm sorry."
