guy around in front, and used him like a human shield.
Reacher stopped six feet away.
He said, “Let him go.”
Just three words, but in a tone also learned long ago, with whole extra paragraphs hidden in the dying vowel sound at the end of the phrase, about the inevitable and catastrophic result of attempted resistance. The big guy let the old guy go. But he wasn’t quitting. No sir. He wanted Reacher to be sure about that. He made it like he wanted to free up his hands anyway. For more important purposes. He shoved the old guy aside and stepped right into Reacher’s space, not more than four feet away. He was twenty-some years old, dark haired and unshaven, more than six feet and two hundred pounds, tanned and muscled by outdoor labor.
He said, “This is none of your business.”
Reacher thought, what is this, Groundhog Day?
But out loud he said, “You were committing a crime on public land. I would be failing in my duty as a citizen if I didn’t point it out. That’s how civilization works.”
The guy glanced away to the south, and back again.
He said, “This ain’t public land. This is my granddaddy’s apple farm. And neither of you should be here. Him because he ain’t allowed and you because you’re trespassing.”
“This is the road,” Reacher said. “Your granddaddy stole it from the county forty years ago. Back when he was a brave young fellow. Like you are now.”
The guy glanced south again, but this time he didn’t glance back. Reacher turned and saw another guy approaching, walking fast between two lines of trees, where the orchard came down a slope. He looked the same as the first guy, except a generation older. Not more. The daddy, perhaps. Not the granddaddy. Better jeans than his son. Cleaner T-shirt. Deeper tan, grayer hair. Built the same, but fifty-something.
He arrived, and said, “What’s going on here?”
Reacher said, “You tell me.”
“Who are you?”
“Just a guy standing on the public road asking you a question.”
“This is not the public road.”
“That’s the problem with denial. Reality doesn’t care what you think. It just keeps rolling along. This is the road. Always was. Still is.”
“What’s your question?”
“I saw your boy physically assaulting this much older gentleman. I guess my question is how well you think that reflects on your parenting skills.”
“In this case, pretty damn well,” the new guy said. “What are our apples worth if people think our water is poisoned?”
“That all was eight years ago,” Reacher said. “It came to nothing anyway. The top scientists in the world said your water is OK. So get over it. With a little humility. Probably you said some dumb thing eight years ago. Should I twist your arm today?”
The old guy with the ponytail said, “Technically they have a contract with the corporation in Colorado. There was a rider on the restraining order. It said they get paid if they can prove I was here. I hoped they had forgotten the arrangement. Apparently they hadn’t. They saw my car.”
“How do they prove it?”
“They just did. They texted a picture. That’s where he went. No cell signal, except up on the rise.”
“Law and order,” the daddy said. “It’s what this country needs.”
“Except for the part about stealing the county road to grow more apples.”
“I’m getting sick of hearing you say that, over and over.”
“It’s the sound of reality, rolling along.”
“Why were you in the woods anyway?”
“None of your business,” Reacher said.
“Maybe it is our business. We have a relationship with the landowner.”
“You can’t text a picture of me.”
“Why not?”
“You would have to take your phone out of your pocket. Whereupon I would take it away from you and break it. I guess that’s why you can’t.”
“There are two of us. Two phones.”
“Still not enough. You should call for reinforcements. But oh dear, you can’t. No cell signal, except up on the rise.”
“You’re a cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
“I prefer realistic,” Reacher said.
“Want to put it to the test?”
“I would have an ethical dilemma. It might scar the boy for life to see his daddy laid out in front of him. Equally it might scar you to see your boy laid out. After being unable to protect him, I mean. You might feel bad about that. I believe it’s a parenting thing. I wouldn’t know for sure. I’m not a father myself. But I can imagine.”
The guy didn’t reply.
Reacher said, “Wait.”
He looked south, between the two lines of trees, where the