The deed sat folded in Chuck Norris's coat for three days. On the fourth morning, he walked the creek plot alone at sunrise. He needed the right spot on the hill. Not just dry ground. He wanted a view of the water, close enough to watch it, high enough to stay safe. If the creek ever rose, his house had to sit above the flood. He paced the slope and drove stakes as he went. He found it by noon. A shelf of flat earth partway up the hill. From there he could see the whole creek bend below. He knelt and dug a hole with his hands. The soil ran deep and firm, no clay, no standing water. He stood and looked down at the land. In his mind the porch was already there, the wide roof, the stone steps. He pulled a cord from his pack and marked the house's edges in the grass. Boots crunched behind him. Tiffany climbed the slope, blonde hair loose, pink cardigan bright against the brown hill. She carried two cups of coffee and handed him one without asking. "You've been up here since dawn," she said. "The whole town's talking about the carpenter who sleeps on his own dirt." She laughed at her joke before he could. Chuck grinned and pointed at the staked square. "This is where it stands. High ground. I checked the soil. The creek could flood and we'd stay dry." Tiffany followed his hand, then looked down at the flat land by the water. "And my barn?" Chuck walked her to the slope's edge. He swept his arm across the flat stretch beside the creek. "There. Level ground for your stalls. Soft footing for the horses. Close to the water but not in it." He had already cut stakes for that too. He pressed one into her palm. "You set the first corner. It's your land." She turned the stake in her fingers. For once she didn't joke. She walked onto the flat ground and pushed the stake into the soil herself. "Here," she said. "The barn door faces the hill." She glanced up at him. "So I can see your house from mine." Chuck's chest went tight. He nodded and said nothing. They worked until dusk, marking both plots with cord and stakes. By dark the shapes stood plain in the grass. His house on the hill. Her barn below. Two outlines on one deed. That night Tiffany stopped at the gate before she left. "One thing," she said. "My cousin wanted this plot for years. He's the man who came to the office with cash. He's not done with it." She climbed onto her horse. "He'll come talk to you. Soon." Chuck watched her ride off. He looked back at the staked hill. The site was set. The threat had a face now.