Chapter 3 - The Man Who Wanted Ironwood Hungry
Lucien did not sleep.
By sunrise he had inspected every storage shed on Ironwood Ranch.
The missing kerosene can was nowhere to be found.
Twenty-two men ate breakfast under a silence Josephine disliked more than shouting.
Suspicion poisoned a room faster than hunger.
Jeb watched Billy.
Billy watched Carter Mills.
Carter watched everyone.
Josephine set down a platter.
"If you're going to accuse each other, do it after breakfast."
Jeb looked up.
"Easy for you to say."
"Why?"
"You've been here nine days."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning nobody knows you."
The room went quiet.
Josephine looked at him.
Lucien stood from the far end.
"Enough."
Jeb raised both hands.
"I'm saying what everybody's thinking."
"Then everybody can stop thinking it."
Lucien's tone ended the discussion.
But not the suspicion.
Later Josephine found Jeb repairing fence near the southern pasture.
"You don't trust me."
He continued working.
"Didn't say that."
"You implied it."
"Maybe."
Josephine handed him a tin cup of coffee.
That surprised him.
Jeb took it.
"My brother owned a butcher shop," she said.
Jeb glanced at her.
"You explaining the knives?"
"I'm explaining why I know what I'm doing."
"Where?"
"Nebraska."
"Still there?"
"No."
Jeb waited.
Josephine didn't elaborate.
"Lucien know?"
"He knows enough."
"That man doesn't like knowing half of anything."
"I noticed."
Jeb drank his coffee.
Then his face softened.
"For whatever it's worth, I don't think you lit the fire."
"Comforting."
"Think whoever did it knew the ranch."
"So do I."
Jeb looked toward the bunkhouse.
"You better hope Lucien finds him before the rest of us do."
That worried her.
By afternoon, Lucien had a different problem.
Two horses were missing.
Not valuable animals.
Work horses.
One belonged to a ranch hand named Silas Kemp.
But Kemp was still at Ironwood.
"My saddle's gone too," he said.
Lucien examined the stall.
"When'd you last see it?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
A saddle, horses, kerosene.
Something was moving around Ironwood without permission.
Then Billy discovered another clue.
Behind the old equipment shed, half buried in mud, lay a torn envelope.
Lucien carried it to the cookhouse.
The front showed no address.
But inside was a fragment of paper.
Only six words remained readable.
...keep Hatcher desperate until February...
Josephine read it twice.
"Someone wants you to default."
Lucien's expression darkened.
"Obviously."
"Who profits?"
"The bank."
"Would your banker burn your food?"
"Thaddeus Vale wouldn't dirty his boots."
"Competitors?"
Lucien looked toward the northern ridge.
"There is one."
"Name?"
"Gideon Crowe."
Josephine waited.
Lucien sighed.
"Crowe owns Red Hollow Ranch east of Bitter Creek. Bigger operation than mine."
"And?"
"He offered to buy Ironwood last year."
"You refused."
"Twice."
"Before or after the bank trouble?"
"Both."
Josephine folded the paper.
"What does he want?"
"Water."
She frowned.
Lucien took her outside.
From the hill behind the house, Ironwood Basin spread below them.
He pointed toward a distant valley.
"That creek feeds almost year-round. It runs through Ironwood before reaching Crowe's southern grazing land."
"So if he owned your property—"
"He'd control the source."
Josephine understood.
"Then your cattle aren't the real prize."
"No."
"The land is."
Lucien looked at her.
"Now you see why I wouldn't sell three animals."
"No."
He almost groaned.
Josephine continued.
"Now I see why you should have sold six."
Lucien stared.
"If Crowe wants you desperate, the worst thing you can do is remain desperate."
She pulled Samuel Pike's freight note from her pocket.
"Take me to Bitter Creek."
"For what?"
"To find out what smoked beef is actually worth."
"No."
"Lucien."
"No."
She stepped in front of him.
"You owe a bank enough money to lose your ranch in three months. Someone burned our winter food and may be working from inside Ironwood. We have cattle we can selectively process, a smokehouse, salt, timber, labor, and people willing to buy."
"Those cattle—"
"Are worth more after I touch them."
Lucien stopped.
Josephine's expression was utterly serious.
"One animal sold as live cattle is one price. That same animal turned into cured cuts, rendered fat, broth stock, leather, and preserved provisions is another."
Lucien knew cattle.
He knew auction prices.
He knew shipping losses.
What Josephine described was not ranching.
It was manufacturing.
And manufacturing created value.
"Show me."
She blinked.
"What?"
"Prove it."
Two days later they processed one older steer the bank had not specifically tagged for breeding value.
Josephine documented everything.
Weight.
Salt.
Wood.
Labor.
Yield.
Then she packed sample cuts into waxed cloth.
Lucien saddled two horses.
They rode to Bitter Creek.
Josephine had expected a frontier town.
Bitter Creek was nearly a city compared with Ironwood.
Two hotels.
A bank.
Three saloons.
Blacksmith.
Freight depot.
General store.
Mining offices.
The smell of coal smoke filled Main Street.
Samuel Pike stood outside the depot.
He grinned when he saw them.
"Knew you'd come."
Josephine ignored his satisfaction.
"Twenty cents was too low."
Samuel laughed.
"You're learning."
"I already knew."
She handed him a sample.
"Thirty."
"Twenty-two."
"Twenty-eight."
"Twenty-four."
Josephine started putting the meat away.
"Wait."
"Twenty-eight."
Samuel sighed.
"Twenty-six."
"Twenty-seven, minimum hundred pounds."
Samuel looked at Lucien.
"She always like this?"
Lucien nodded.
"Worse."
Samuel smiled.
"Done."
Josephine had just earned nearly twice what Lucien expected.
But she wasn't finished.
They visited a hotel.
Then a mining supply company.
Then a restaurant.
By late afternoon, Josephine had orders exceeding what one smokehouse could produce.
Lucien stared at the papers.
"This can't be right."
"Why?"
"Because if it were this easy—"
"It's not easy."
She pointed at him.
"You own the cattle."
Then herself.
"I know preservation."
Toward the street.
"They have demand."
She folded the orders.
"Most people only notice what they're missing. We need to notice what we already have."
Lucien looked at her differently.
Something moved in his chest.
Respect, certainly.
Something more dangerous, possibly.
They were leaving the final merchant when a voice stopped him.
"Hatcher."
Lucien went still.
A tall man wearing an expensive charcoal coat stood across the boardwalk.
Silver touched his hair.
His boots were too clean.
Gideon Crowe.
Josephine felt Lucien's posture change.
Crowe approached.
"I heard you married."
Lucien said nothing.
Crowe's gaze moved over Josephine.
"So this is Mrs. Hatcher."
"In paperwork only," Josephine said.
Crowe smiled.
"How romantic."
"What do you want?" Lucien asked.
"To congratulate you."
"You've done it."
Crowe glanced toward Josephine's order sheets.
"And perhaps offer friendly advice."
"No."
Crowe continued anyway.
"Winter is ugly for men who don't know when they're beaten."
Lucien stepped closer.
Josephine touched his sleeve.
Not to comfort him.
To stop him.
Crowe noticed.
His smile widened.
"February arrives faster than people think."
Josephine's eyes sharpened.
Those were almost the same words from the torn letter.
Keep Hatcher desperate until February.
She studied Crowe.
"You seem unusually interested in our calendar."
Crowe looked at her.
Something cold entered his eyes.
Then disappeared.
"Everyone in Bitter Creek knows Ironwood's situation."
He tipped his hat.
"Enjoy married life."
He walked away.
Lucien watched him until he disappeared.
Josephine spoke quietly.
"He knows."
"Knows what?"
"About February."
"Half the town might."
"He didn't mention the bank."
Lucien turned.
"He mentioned the deadline."
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Then Josephine looked across the street.
A young stable boy was standing beside Crowe's wagon.
He was unloading supplies.
Among them were two metal kerosene cans.
Stamped on their brass caps were the same three letters.
B.C.M.
That proved nothing.
But when the boy lifted one can, Josephine noticed something tied around its handle.
A narrow strip of red cloth.
Exactly the same weave as one of the burned rags found outside Ironwood's smokehouse.
Josephine looked at Lucien.
And suddenly their trip to sell meat had become something far more dangerous.
They had found the first trail leading away from Ironwood.
May you like
And it pointed directly toward the man who wanted Lucien's land.
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