The community of Cuthand sits on Farm to Market Road 910 in Red River County, a sparse area where the only oncoming traffic for 10 miles is a mutt dog.  A sign on the outskirts declares, "Adopt-a-Highway, 3 miles, Cuthand Community."  Near Bogata, Texas, it's a tight-knit community built on generations of families loving the land and refusing to leave it.

"There are some full-time ranchers and farmers here, but the majority of people work either in Mount Pleasant or Paris or around Texarkana," said John Purviance, pastor of Cuthand United Methodist Church. "The majority have a job in town but it's worth the drive to live here so ... they commute."

But Cuthand's peaceful, rural existence is threatened by the proposed Marvin Nichols Reservoir.  State officials are working with local water planning groups to find a solution to Texas' water shortage, and sights are trained on Red River County.

On a cold and drizzly Saturday night in October, Cuthand residents turn out for an annual stew supper and pie auction.  A flatbed trailer is backed under the fire department awning and local band members are set up, playing a mix of hymns and classic country.  Fire trucks are parked on grass across the street, surrounded by four-wheel drives and diesels of every make.  Inside the fire department building women bustle along tables holding stew and chili recipes that have been handed down for generations.  Outside, men bury their hands in the pockets of denim jackets and trade hunting stories.  Conversations are lively and jovial and laughter hangs in the air.  But the mood gets somber at the mention of Marvin Nichols.

"It's an issue that threatens this way of life," Purviance said.  "We're not a selfish people.  We're not somebody saying, 'We have this resource and you're are going to take what we have.'"

Cuthand residents believe there are other solutions for the statewide water plight than creating a 72,000-acre lake, annihilating communities like theirs.  The area would be hit by flooding, mitigation boundaries and new tributaries that would divide properties.

"It's just easier for a metroplex to say, 'We don't want to buy water from over here, we'd rather own it in Red River County.  Then it's ours.'  When they're leaving out the very basic fact that they're taking something someone else has worked hard for their whole life," Purviance said.

Across the road from the fire department the reason for the fundraiser is visible through the mist -- the Cuthand Community Cemetery, a source of great concern for all the residents.  Peggy Belcher wipes tears as she gazes at the well-manicured lawn and rows of pale headstones.  "What if it wipes out our cemetery?" she said.  "All my family is right there."

Seven generations of Belcher's family have called Cuthand home.  "I raised my family here and none of them's left," she said  "They've all stayed, regardless of jobs or whatever.  Five of us, 10 grandkids, seven great-grands.  We're all right here in a bunch."

That family tradition is common in Cuthand.  Most children are born with an automatic inheritance of property, history and a way of life the residents are scared to lose.  "Me and my wife own our property down here and it's only 16 acres ... it's small," Jim Purviance said.  "But we've been there six years now and we have young sons.  It will be their place, and hopefully it will be their sons' or daughters' place.  You set up what you think would be long-term goals in your life, then all of a sudden something completely beyond your control can come in and wipe those out," he said.  "It's different than if a tornado came in and wiped up out.  We'd rebuild."

It's hard for these residents to say which would be worse, losing the land they love or living in constant fear of such a loss.  "I've never expected my stuff being taken away from me," Belcher said.  "That's just what they'll do.  That's your life."

Belcher referred to another family in Cuthand who moved there after losing their first home to the development of a coal mine.  "Then they moved over here and made a home; now the lake's going to get it," Belcher said.  "And they're like us, they're getting up in age.  Where are they going to go?  Where do I go?" she asked.  "The nursing home."

Younger generations also are worried about relocating if the reservoir comes.  "What they are offering for the land, we can't go anywhere and pay out and be debt free again," Belcher's son Randy said.

John Purviance said the Marvin Nichols Reservoir is not just threatening belongings but residents' heritage.  "We're intimately tied to the land," he said.  "You may not own a large parcel of land, but if you live in this community, your grandpa does or daddy does or your uncle does.  You've grown up going to grandpa's house, cutting hay with your uncle or going hunting with your daddy on grandpa's place.  When you've grown up with something and you love it, you can't help but have emotions run high."

Stanley Jessee is principal of Rivercrest Junior High where Cuthand children go to school.  He's another generational landowner.  "My parents came in '65," he said.  "I'm living in the same house I grew up in.  This is home."  Jessee said the school's tax base would be devastated by Marvin Nichols, and the constant threat of its construction hinders long-term planning and budgeting.  "It affects a lot of things that are going on right now," he said.  "It will take a back seat for a while, then it flares back up."

The community is hesitantly planning for the future while valiantly fighting to preserve what they have.  An annual fish fry carries the volunteer fire department through the year, raising up to $14,000 a night.  The autumn pie auction for the Cuthand Cemetery Association covers maintenance of the genealogical treasure.  "When you have this hanging over your head, it makes planning a nightmare," Jim Purviance said.  "It is the proverbial elephant in the room.  Whatever you're talking aout, 'what if?' is always there."

John Purviance said Cuthand is growing, not empty property ripe for flooding by thirsty cities.  "I can't say what their perception is, but I think it's very important we as a community let them know there is real life going on here," he said.  "We're not urban, we don't want to be urban, but we're a vibrant rural community."

Purviance said Cuthand's forests and sprawling fields are drawing more residents, some from the most unlikely places.  "We're seeing other folks that are coming into the community.  Some retirees even out of the metroplex area are coming in here," he said.  "It's more than cut-over timber land or soybean fields that are going to be flooded by this -- it's families that are going to be displaced."

Cuthand's growth has caused a need for expansion at the Methodist church.  It's just one more project overshadowed by worry.  "Whether it's an individual landowner, whether it's a church, every decision we make we have to look at it through the lens of, 'What happens if that lake comes in?'" John Purviance said. "So were faced with the decision -- do we stop living our life the way we want to in fear of this lake, or do we press on and live our lives the way God taught, especially in the church expansion?  It takes courage to be able to see that lake issue and say we still have to keep living right," he said.

At the pie auction the room is full of rough and weathered men, most in boots and cowboy hats.  Women smile demurely as their mouthwatering creations are announced and murmurs of anticipation swell.  Personal concerns are pushed back tonight as the neighbors converge for another cause that links them all.  And elegant dessert menus have nothing on these prices -- a tray of fried pies sells early in the evening for $250, and most other treats sell near or top the $100 mark.

"It's just part of us," John Purviance said of the outpouring.  "This is what we do.  This community supports one another, loves one another.  This is an annual thing ... but if we see someone in the community that has a need ... we'd see the same thing spontaneously come up."

In an area where everyone knows everyone, Purviance sees the unity as an advantage.  As a pastor he believes God blesses every area but said Cuthand is special.  "It's the community spirit, the spirit that we're in this together," he said.  "We live life together and we pull together, and when we have to make it through a tough thing, we make it through together."

"I think there's a perception that we are way out here in the country and that this lake is only going to affect a few landowners, ranchers and farmers that will have to be moved.  But way more important than that, it's going to affect a lot of real lives that are here. ... The problem is that we don't have any certainty.  Everything we have, we have the issue of the lake hanging out in front of us.  Should I purchase this land?  Well, what if the reservoir is built?  Should I build a home here?  Well, what if the reservoir is built?  We can kind of figure out where the water line is going to be based on maps, but then when the mitigation issue is thrown into it, we don't know how much land will be taken and no one can give us an answer. ... We don't live in fear of the reservoir.  Obviously it's a very important issue for everyone in the community and a very important issue for our church, but at the same time we press on and do the work of the church and that's what our role is whether there is a lake coming or not. ... This is a place where lives are being changed, where lives are being lived, and where God is glorified.  This is the church of Jesus Christ.  And Jesus' kingdom was here before the reservoir issue came up and it will be here a long time after the reservoir issue comes up."  John Purviance

"This is one of the greatest communities in the world.  Some of my family has been here for eight generations, and we've owned land in the Sulphur River Basin for over 100 years.  And some of that land will go underwater if the lake comes in, and probably the rest will be taken for mitigation.  We think we have values that our ancestors had; we tried to hold onto those values.  Other parts of the country lost those values that we value so much."  Gary Cheatwood

"It's our lives, Cuthand is.  My husband Robert and I are going on 51 years of marriage.  We have lived in Cuthand all that time.  We have property Marvin Nichols would take.  It would not only take our land, it would take our community. ... My family has lived here, my parents live here, my grandparents lived here. ... We couldn't replace the amount of property we have, and Robert and I are just too old to start again."  Nina Holt

"I think that it's [the reservoir] not going to help us any.  The people that are wanting the thing are those ones going to get all the water out of it and all the good out of it, and I'm sure they don't care about us anyway.  I guess the feeling is mutual.  We don't want them having our water if they are going to be that way about it."  John Brooks

"I don't understand all the legalities but I know that this is a wonderful place to live ... and it's just not fair or right that they should be displaced ... when there are other alternatives."  Dennis Purviance

"People think when they say we are going to have to give up our land that it is just dirt.  It's not.  This land belongs to the heart and soul of these people. ... It's the quality of life and the Christian way and morals that we want our family to have, and is represented in this, as we call it, 'land.'  People in Dallas don't have a grasp on that.  They come and they go, they move from place to place. ... We're not travelers, we are permanent people. ... I don't know who's done the surveys or for what political reasons.  I don't know for what monetary reasons, but somewhere in my mind it tells me that somebody is going to make a killing off of what goes on here in our county and it's not going to be us."  Gale Burnett