Chapter 3 - DEFENDING THE BOUNDARY
At 11:30 a.m., three white pickup trucks with dark tinted windows pulled up to the cattle grid that marked the southern entrance of the Robles ranch.
Inside the lead vehicle sat Licenciado Peralta—a slick, aggressive municipal lawyer hired by Mauricio’s shell company—along with two off-duty regional officers and a surveyor carrying digital equipment.
They were met at the fence by a barrier made of heavy oak logs and an old International Harvester tractor parked directly across the lane.
Tomás stood on top of the tractor's rear tire, a iron wrench in his hand. Below him, Mateo sat on a wooden crate with a thick legal binder resting across his knees, a pen tucked behind his ear.
Peralta stepped out of the truck, fanning himself with a manila envelope. "Move the vehicle, boys. We are executing a court-authorized property survey prior to public lien enforcement."
"This land is private property under federal agricultural protection statutes," Mateo called out, his voice precise and clear as he opened his binder. "Article 27 of the Mexican Constitution strictly prohibits the summary seizure of active food-producing parcel land without a ninety-day administrative review period. Your notice is invalid."
Peralta frowned, surprised by the thin, soft-spoken kid citing constitutional land law. "Listen to me, kid. The municipal debt was transferred to a private collection agency forty-eight hours ago. We have the enforcement order signed by the regional magistrate."
"Signed by a magistrate who received three luxury vehicle permits from Mauricio Varela's holding company last Tuesday," a loud voice announced from down the road.
A sleek silver sedan pulled up behind the pickup trucks. Sebastián stepped out, accompanied by an older woman wearing an immaculate charcoal suit and carrying an official leather briefcase.
"Who are you?" Peralta demanded.
"I am Licenciada Sofia Castro," the woman replied, stepping forward with absolute authority. "Senior Counsel for the Federal Agricultural Land Tribunal. And this is an administrative stay issued directly from the state governor's office in Guadalajara."
Peralta’s face went pale. He snatched the paper Sofia extended toward him.
"This stay freezes all municipal enforcement actions against the Robles-Mendoza estate for one hundred and twenty days," Sofia explained calmly. "Furthermore, my office has opened a formal inquiry into the fraudulent inflation of the municipal tax assessment from twenty-one thousand to eighty-nine thousand pesos."
Peralta glared at Sebastián, then at the two young men standing behind the tractor barrier. "This changes nothing long-term, Alcázar. Varela still holds the commercial development options."
"Tell Mauricio," Sebastián said, walking up until he was inches from Peralta's face, "that if he sets foot on this road again, I won't just fight him in civil court. I will personally tear down every asset he owns in this state."
Peralta spat on the dusty road, turned around, and motioned for his trucks to fall back.
As the dust settled, Tomás stepped down from the tractor. He didn't smile. He looked at Sebastián with a complex mix of frustration and suspicion.
"Why are you doing this?" Tomás asked. "You think hiring an expensive lawyer makes up for twenty years of silence?"
"No," Sebastián replied, looking his son directly in the eye. "It doesn't make up for an hour of it. But I’m not letting that man steal what belongs to your mother."
Elena walked out to the cattle grid, holding a tray with three glasses of cold water. She handed one to Licenciada Castro and another to Mateo, entirely ignoring Sebastián.
"The stay gives us time," Elena said quietly, looking over her land toward the distant blue mountains. "But Mauricio Varela won't stop with a paper order. He knows we don't have the funds to maintain a legal battle against his lawyers for four months."
"You don't have to," Sebastián said. "I have already instructed my primary legal team to initiate a full forensic audit of Alcázar Capital. By Monday, Mauricio will be fighting to stay out of federal prison."
"And where will you be?" Mateo asked quietly, adjusting his glasses.
Sebastián looked at his two sons and the pregnant woman who had built a life without him.
"I'm staying at the town inn," Sebastián said. "If you'll have me, I’ll be right here every morning at five to help with the harvest."
May you like
Tomás let out a harsh laugh. "A billionaire picking corn?"
"I was a farmer's son before I was anything else, Tomás," Sebastián said softly. "I remember how to work."
