On paper, the cartel already took everything I had. Back on my Alabama land, they’re coming for everyone I know.
My money is gone. My name’s been dragged through the mud. Mary and I come home with nothing but an RV, a patch of family land, and the hope that dirt and timber still mean something.
They do. Just not the way we remember.
Around here, folks aren’t talking football anymore. They’re talking about poisoned dogs, butchered cattle, barns burned to ash, and strangers showing up with cash for land nobody wants to sell. Say no, and things turn bad. Real bad.
The sheriff’s looking the other way. The law’s been bought. And the men behind it all think country people scare easy . They’re about to learn better.
They may have stolen my future on paper, but now I’m coming for theirs in the Alabama pines.