June 1955. Jordan Valley, Oregon.

Jim wakes up before the sun. It's a wet early morning. It rained most of the night before. He runs a five thousand acre ranch with two thousand head of cattle.

Jim drives out to survey the day's work and on his way discovers a small flock of sheep scattered across the road. A section of fence that holds them in has fallen during the night.

Unable to spare the two hours to fix the fence, he leaves his two young daughters, Virginia, 11, and Dotty, 8, to watch over the cattle for the morning while he leads the men in the haying.

The girls amuse themselves by playing games, throwing stones at rusted cans, and chatting with occasional passers-by. The ranching community in Jordan Valley is friendly and protective. They are completely unprepared when a man on a cross-country trek stops and, after an engaging and playful conversation, exposes himself to them. His motives are unclear.

Terrified, Virginia launches a barrage of well-aimed rocks, which the man seems to enjoy. Vivy gets more frantic, screaming at him to leave, throwing more rocks. When he gets bored, he pulls up his pants and drives off.

The girls are alone. It's too far to walk home; they are a good two miles away. They hide behind the berm, out of sight from the road, with a stash of rocks, in case he comes back.

Their father returns to take them home; when he gets out of his truck, he is met with rocks raining down. Vivy and Dotty stop when they realize it's their Dad. When he finds out what happened, he sets off with his daughters on a mad chase across expansive country to find the man.

Hours of fruitless searching: roads split off and go in different directions, the spark of anger subsides while tension and frustration mount. Each road they pass decreases their chances of ever finding the drifter. When they reach the highway, Jim, defeated, decides to return home.

That night he can't sleep. A knock at the bedroom door: his daughters are scared. They can't sleep either. The family huddles together. Restless, he gets up and drives out to the fence.

Illuminated by the truck's headlights, Jim hauls supplies up the hill. He vigorously tears out the broken fence posts and digs new holes. He sets the new posts into the holes and pounds them home with a sledgehammer. The sound echoes across the valley. Sheep rustle in the distance. All of his strength drives the hammer down, frustrated by his impotence. The eastern sky lightens.

When he finishes, he notices his headlamps have dimmed. He gives the engine a try, waits, another try. It won't start. He gets out of the truck, inspects the fence one last time, then turns and heads down the road. Mist hangs in the fields. Way off in the distance, a trail of smoke rises from the ranch house.

Jim keeps walking until he disappears into the landscape.