When Henry was six, the border between their land and the Richardsen’s was the old oak tree out on the hill. Henry hadn’t really ever stopped to consider what that meant, until he asked Pa to put up a tire swing for him. No, Pa had said. Mr. Richardsen would never allow it. He told Henry a story about his own pa, long ago, around when their family first settled on the farm. There weren’t any property markers or anything then, until Henry’s grandpappy and Susannah Richardsen’s grandpappy had both tried to court the same lady. Henry’s grandpappy had won, and the Richardsens had been jealous ever since.

When Henry was nine, Pa woke up early one day and brought him out to the hill. The Richardsens' new dog had gotten into their trash for the last time, Pa said. So they put up a wooden fence, even though Henry wasn’t quite sure how it’d keep a dog out. Right about at noon, when it was the hottest part of the day, Mr. Richardsen drove up in his pickup truck. He and Pa stood on other sides of the fence and they exchanged some words that Henry knew he wasn’t supposed to repeat. Instead, he rested his chin on one of the posts, and made faces at Susannah Richardsen, who was eight years old and insufferably annoying.

When Henry was eleven, Mr. Richardsen tore down that fence and put up a bigger one of his own, with much less space in the slats. There were metal signs that said ‘no trespassing’ on Henry’s side of the fence. Henry told Pa about it, and there were soon bigger signs on the other side too. Once Henry had found a dictionary and looked up what a ‘trespasser’ was, he took to walking up and down the property line in the afternoons, making sure there weren’t any.

When Henry was thirteen, he tore a hole in his favorite pair of blue jeans while climbing over the barbed wire his father had strung along the top of the fence. The first time had been fine, but it was a bit harder to climb over when he was holding onto one of the Richardsens' chickens and the dog was chasing him with Susannah screaming right behind. He thought Pa was going to be upset, but when he told the whole story, Pa laughed and laughed and said that they were going to get ice cream the next time they went into town.

When Henry was fifteen, he found out just how much electricity was in the wire that Mr. Richardsen put on the fence when Susannah had dared him to grab ahold of it. He squared his shoulders in what he thought was a manly way, and said he bet that he’d barely feel it at all. When he let out a yelp that was not manly, Susannah had dissolved into a fit of giggles, and he made up excuses until his face turned red and she ran back to her house.

When Henry was seventeen, he told Susannah one night the story about his grandpappy. She listened in rapt attention, peering over the fence with moon-round eyes, and it was only at the end that she said she had heard it before, from her own pa. He didn’t know what to think when she said that she had always heard that it was her grandpappy who had married the lady, and it was Henry’s relatives who had held the grudge ever since.

When Henry was nineteen, he found that part of the fence right near the oak tree had a hole big enough to squeeze through. He didn’t tell Pa about that.

When Henry was twenty-one, Pa told him that no son of his would ever marry a Richardsen. Henry stood up right up from the dinner table and went to the shed out in the back. Pa followed him, still ranting and raving, as Henry got a sledgehammer and walked out to the hill. Pa didn’t quiet down until Henry swung a few times and the little hole at the fence was a lot bigger. Then Henry set down the hammer and walked on through.

When Henry’s son was six, Henry built him a tire swing in the oak tree next to their house on the top of the hill. He sat on the porch that evening with Susannah, and they watched the sun set.