The morning frost hung heavy over the timber yard as the gravel crunched under the heavy boots of the men standing near the massive woodpiles.
Bram: Look at you wandering around our logging camp like you own the place.
Elena: I am just looking for the property manager regarding the boundary dispute.
Bram: You don't belong out here in this high-end grey coat.
Elena: My family owns the legal deed to this entire wooded acreage.
Bram: Deeds don't mean a thing out here in the backcountry timberland.
Elena: We will see what the county court says about that tomorrow morning.
Bram: You think a piece of paper from some city judge is going to scare me off?
Elena: It's not just a piece of paper, Bram. It's a federal eviction notice.
Bram's face twisted into an ugly sneer as he stepped closer to the young woman near the frozen tree stump.
Bram: You've got a lot of nerve showing up here acting like a corporate boss.
Elena: I am simply standing up for my grandfather's legitimate inheritance rights.
Bram: Your grandfather was a weak old fool who signed away his timber rights years ago.
Elena: Under duress, while your associates threatened him with foreclosure.
Bram reached out with a rough shove, sending Elena stumbling backward against the rough bark of the tree.
Bram: Get off this property before I lose my temper permanently.
Elena: Touching me won't stop the sheriff's deputies from executing the asset seizure warrant.
Bram raised his hand with sudden, vicious speed, his fur-trimmed jacket rustling in the cold wind.
Will someone arrive in time to stop his violent temper before tragedy strikes the logging camp?