5 million is more than most people see in a lifetime. I could buy another ranch somewhere else. Start over, live comfortably until I die. And if it were just about the land, maybe I would, but it’s not. Helen is here under Texas law. If I sell this property to a developer, they can petition to relocate remains.
They dig her up, move her to some municipal cemetery, stick her in a row of strangers. I made her a promise when she was dying. I told her she’d stay on this hill forever. I told her I’d be buried right next to her when my time came. That promise isn’t for sale. Not for 4 million. Not for 40 million. Some things you don’t put a price on because the moment you do, you’ve already lost them.
I made a mistake that week, a stupid one. I decided to handle things like a reasonable adult, which looking back was my first error. I drove over to the Ridgewood Estates clubhouse where Harmon kept his office, walked in during business hours, polite as you please, and asked to speak with him. The receptionist looked at me like I’d tracked mud on her carpet, but she called him out.
Harmon appeared in a golf shirt and pressed slacks, still wearing that smile. I explained the situation calmly, told him people in vehicles marked Rididgewood security had been driving across my property without permission. asked him to make it stop. He listened with his head tilted slightly, nodding along as he understood completely. “Mr.
Dawson, I appreciate you coming to me directly. I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding. Our security team occasionally patrols the perimeter of the community. Perhaps they’ve strayed on to your property by accident.” I told him it had happened six times. He didn’t blink. Well, I’ll certainly speak with them, but you know, this wouldn’t be an issue if you reconsidered our offer.
