Every time his dog stares out the window, Dave Brown gets uneasy. He gets up from the kitchen table to take a look.
"There's nothing there," he says, patting the dog's head before sitting back down in his beautifully decorated home on Argyle Street.
In town, Brown's house is known as the Alamo.
For Brown's family, it's a dream that has turned to disaster.
They are surrounded by Douglas Creek Estates, the contentious 40-hectare piece of land the Six Nations people claim as their own.
The family of Brown's wife has owned the house for more than 40 years.
The couple invested more than $30,000 to convert the basement into a salon. They figured it was a good investment since his wife has been a hair dresser for years, they already had commercial zoning and knew hundreds of homes were going up.
As soon as the protest began in February, his wife's business started falling, as people were uncomfortable coming near the occupation. When the barricades went up, customers couldn't get to the house and the business was in shambles.
Cobwebs now line the corners of the salon. Brown points to the ceramic tiles, custom mirrors, new plumbing and chairs. They sold most of the equipment but the odd shampoo bottle still lingers on a shelf with spiders nearby.
"This was her dream come true," he says. She was living and working in her family house.
"It's very depressing," he says, closing the door to the basement.
Now Brown and several other homeowners want the province to buy them out.
"I just hope there's a light at the end of the tunnel for this family," Brown says, shrugging. "We've pleaded and begged the government numerous times to relocate us."
Things can't get worse. His frequent absences from work during the crisis, to comfort his wife or deal with other issues, cost Brown his job and benefits. His wife lost her business. All-terrain vehicles zip back and forth on a road natives built right behind the house, making the backyard unpleasant. They figure the house is worthless.
Now they don't even like the house that had held so much promise.
The only way out is if the province buys their house, Brown says.
"We're not being unfair here. We just need to be relocated," he said. "We just want our lives back ... I just want to talk to neighbours and friends, have people over again and have a barbecue."
Ken Hewitt, head of the Caledonia Citizens Alliance, isn't sure how many people want out. But he's sure many have their retirement funds tied up in their homes.
"If those values have dropped significantly, then rightfully they have a concern. I think those concerns should be addressed by both levels of government."
Caledonia real estate broker Bruce MacDonald says the only option for those next to the subdivision is to wait. Any house right beside the occupied land would sell at a discount now, he said.
Real estate is still active in town -- there are nearly 50 properties between $150,000 and $250,000 on the market. But those near the building site will have to wait for a resolution, when MacDonald predicts they'll see values go back to normal.
Dieter Rauscher lives around the corner from Brown in a red-brick home on the 6th Line. It's surrounded by a blanket of flowers.
The house in large part is what Rauscher has to show for his 37-year career at Stelco.
But two sides of the property abut Douglas Creek Estates. It's the only nest egg they have. And now he figures it is worthless.
They were holding on for the subdivision to bring city water and sewers to their home because they thought they would get more for it.
"Nobody will buy it now," he says. "Our only hope is the government. We would move to Hamilton and we wouldn't look back."
Anne Marie Flanagan, press secretary for David Ramsay, the minister responsible for Aboriginal Affairs, said they are not contemplating a buyout package for residents.