I arrived at our property with my children and a woman in a white dress yelled at me: “Get off my property or I’ll call the police,” but when the officers arrived, the lie she had spun in front of everyone fell apart.

She raised her voice and pointed at my chest so everyone could see. “If he does not leave, I will call the sheriff and have him arrested immediately,” Courtney declared.

The DJ turned off the music and everyone stared at us in silence. I did not argue or raise my voice, I just turned around and went back to the truck.

“She told you to leave our ranch, Dad,” Hudson muttered with indignation. “Yes, I heard her,” I replied.

Half an hour later, Courtney was still pacing among her guests and pointing at the stream and the barn as if she were showing off a new purchase. She sent a man in a polo shirt to tell me to leave before I inconvenienced everyone.

Then she sent a woman with a sorry expression to repeat that this was a private event. Finally, she sent a broad-shouldered man who warned me that I would be accused of trespassing.

I remained seated in the bed of my truck with my sons beside me, watching the entire spectacle unfold. “She really thinks she owns it, doesn’t she?” Parker asked.

“It seems so,” I answered. “And do you know that she doesn’t?” he asked me.

“Not yet,” I said. Forty-five minutes later, Courtney arrived in person and stood in front of me with her chin raised.