The shift in the room was immediate. Owen's jaw set. Wyatt straightened off the wall. Maggie went still—not frozen, but focused, her mind already three steps ahead.
"How many?" Owen asked.
"Three adults minimum, based on tracks. Could be more bedding in the brush. They're coming in along the creek."
"Damn." Owen leaned back. "We had a sounder four years ago. Took three weeks and a county trapper to clear them. Lost two calves and a section of fence before it was over, and Jimmy Reeves took a tusk to the thigh—twenty-three stitches."
"The county's seeing more of them," Maggie said, moving to the map on the wall. "Dave Martinez told me the Hendricks place got hit twice this year. Game warden said the population's exploded since that mild winter—sows throwing two litters a year, and nobody's keeping up with them."
"Where exactly?" Wyatt asked me.
I joined Maggie at the map and traced the path. "Here, here, and here. Creek crossing, north feed stations, and I found tracks heading northeast toward the back pastures."
"That's the calving herd," Wyatt said.
"And the broodmares," Maggie added. Her eyes met mine—a flicker, gone fast.
Owen studied the map. "First thing—I want trail cameras on those feed stations by tonight. We need to know how many we're dealing with and when they're moving."
"I've got two Stealth Cams in the equipment shed," Wyatt said. "I can pull another from the south gate."
"Good. Get them up before dark." Owen looked at me. "You said they're bedding in the creek brush?"
"That's my read. Thick cover along the south bank—good shade, water access, close to food. Classic setup."
"Then we ride the perimeter at first light tomorrow. I want eyes on the full extent of the damage, and I want to know if they've gotten into the livestock areas." Owen held up a hand before anyone could volunteer. "Small group. Me, Wyatt, Jack, and Hunter if he's free. We go armed—.30-06 and .308 minimum. A boar that size, you don't want to be under-gunned.”
"I'm going," Maggie said. Not a request.
Owen looked at her. The pause was brief. "Alright. But we stay within sight of each other, and nobody plays hero. If we find the sounder, we observe and back off. The goal tomorrow is information, not a firefight."
"And after tomorrow?" Maggie asked.
"We set corral traps along the creek bed," Owen said. "Bait them with corn and let the cameras tell us when the sounder's comfortable going in and out. Once they're committed to the pattern, we drop the gate."
"That worked last time," Wyatt agreed. "Took a week for them to trust the enclosure, but we got five in one night."
"And anything that doesn't trap, we hunt." Owen's voice was matter-of-fact. "I'll call Roy Bassett—he's still running hounds, and he owes me a favor from that fence dispute. Between traps, dogs, and rifles, we'll clear them."
"I'll coordinate the hands on extra patrols in the meantime," Maggie said. "Full cattle count today, someone checking the horse pastures every few hours, and I want the night feeders pulled entirely—no point ringing the dinner bell."
"Pull them," Owen confirmed. "Wyatt, get the trail cameras up. Jack, you and Hunter walk that creek brush before dark if you can—I want to know how deep the bedding area goes. Don't push in. Just get a read on the edges."
“Yes, sir."
"Alright." Owen stood. "Nobody goes near those back pastures alone until this is handled. That's not a suggestion."
Hunter found me near the equipment shed an hour later.
"Wyatt said you found sign of hogs."
I nodded once, sharp. “North fence line. Fresh."
He nodded slowly. Hunter processed information the way he did everything — quietly, thoroughly.
"I know that brush along the creek. You can't see ten feet in any direction once you're past the tree line."
"That's what I figured."
