The Audit Put His Instructions On The Hearing Room Screen

Sloan covered most of the message with another sheet.

"This is part of an open investigation," she said. "I'm asking about your schedule. Did you tell Mr. Dace when you'd collect the ewes?"

"I booked the inspection through his office."

"Did you give Mr. Vale permission to buy them?"

"Never."

She uncovered one line.

Langley hauling Thursday. Use breeding group against Rusk shortage. Get consent at cull rate.

I read it twice.

"He knew they were breeding ewes."

Sloan made a note.

"That's what the message says. We still have to establish who sent it and what followed."

I wanted her to sound as angry as I felt. Instead, she asked careful questions. Later, I was glad she had.

The audit grew beyond my file. The agency preserved its records, and investigators obtained Vale's business records. Ruth explained what we could see and what would stay private while charges were considered.

My job was still sheep.

I marked births in the green book, checked colostrum bellies, and taught first-time mothers to stand for hungry lambs. When the phone rang, I wiped my hands before I picked it up.

In May, I testified at Dace's agency hearing. It concerned his job and authority. A separate criminal review was moving through the prosecutor's office.

The hearing room had folding tables and weak coffee. No jury. No grand bench. Just a hearing officer, lawyers, witnesses, and a screen.

Dace wore a brown suit. He looked almost like any man waiting to renew a license.

His lawyer asked how often I moved between ranches.

"During lambing season, most weeks," I said.

"So your animals and records traveled?"

"The sheep sometimes traveled. My register traveled with me. The stored blood stayed at the clinic."

"A private notebook can be changed."

"That's why I brought the dated lab records too."

I kept my voice at the level I used around young ewes.

Saskia described her collection records and freezer log. The independent vet described taking the fresh samples. The lab report explained the matches.

An agency records worker took the screen next. She showed the saved versions of my certificate and the account that replaced the original. She showed the stored consent form and the message that had sent it to Vale.

"Was this a scanning fault?" the agency lawyer asked.

"No. The fields were changed in an edited file."

The investigator had also found a source for my false signature. It came from an older document in the agency system. Someone had copied its image onto the consent form.

My pen had not touched that page.

Then the message about Thursday went up on the screen. This time no sheet covered it.

Dace said he had been discussing a possible lawful recovery. His lawyer said staff sometimes shared account access.

The records worker answered that point with another log. The changes had come from Dace's assigned computer. His own follow-up email had attached the altered page.

Nell testified about the hauling threat. Tomas brought a note he had made at the time. Deena read the dates on letters sent while she was recovering from surgery.

None of them needed to raise their voices.

Vale's records supplied the prices. Nell's ewes had brought $17,600 when resold. The payment to her had been $94 after charges. Tomas's nine rams had brought $12,150.

The same records showed payments from Vale to Dace, marked as consulting fees. They landed within days of those sales.

On a break, Nell stood by the window with both hands around a paper cup.

"He used to make me forget my own question," she said.

"Write the next one down."

She borrowed my pencil.

Three weeks later, the written decision arrived. Dace was dismissed, and his inspection authority was revoked. The agency found he had altered records, used his position for private gain, and pressured owners to transfer livestock.

The findings went to the prosecutor.

The agency also withdrew every fee charged against me and issued a signed correction stating that my animals had not been switched or stolen.

I mailed that correction to every customer who had asked.

One called to offer a fall job. Another apologized for the feed-store talk. I accepted both things without making either man work harder for it.

At dusk, Ruth called while I was mending a gate chain.

"Dace and Vale have been charged," she said. "The court dates will take time."

Behind me, lambs ran along the fence in a loose white line.

Then she added, "Vale has listed the holding yard for sale. We need to protect the money before it leaves."