Chapter 10 - Bread for a Hungry Town
The charge was assault.
Harriet did not believe it.
Not because Harlan was incapable of violence.
He was.
But because she knew the way he restrained himself.
He had once used a chair to stop men hurting a stable boy.
He had nearly struck Cyrus Vale after Vale mentioned Samuel's illness and stopped because Harriet asked him.
Harlan understood strength too well to throw it carelessly.
She reached the county jail before two.
Gideon Shaw met her outside.
“What happened?”
“Vale workers fenced the spring. Harlan removed the fence.”
“So?”
“A foreman claims Harlan attacked him.”
“Did he?”
“Harlan says the foreman swung first.”
“Witnesses?”
“Vale workers.”
Harriet swore.
Gideon raised an eyebrow.
“I approve legally, if not spiritually.”
“Can you get him out?”
“Bail hearing tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Judge is in Helena.”
Harriet looked through the jail window.
Harlan sat inside one of two cells.
His left shoulder was still strapped from the riding accident.
Anger flooded her.
“They waited until he was injured.”
“Likely.”
“Vale did this.”
“Likely.”
“I hate lawyers.”
“I know.”
The sheriff let her visit.
Harlan stood when she entered.
“You shouldn't be here.”
Harriet almost exploded.
“Do men receive a handbook teaching them to say that to women at the worst possible moment?”
He smiled faintly.
“Probably.”
“What happened?”
He told her.
Vale's crew arrived with papers claiming temporary industrial access under a mining permit.
Harlan told them to leave.
They began fencing anyway.
He tore down the first post.
Foreman Dale Rusk struck Harlan's injured shoulder with a shovel handle.
Harlan punched him once.
“One?”
“One.”
“Where?”
“Jaw.”
“Did he fall?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Harlan blinked.
“Harriet Bell.”
“What?”
“You're encouraging violence.”
“No. I'm appreciating symmetry.”
He laughed.
Then his face sobered.
“They're pumping water already.”
Harriet's anger vanished.
“What?”
“Portable steam pump.”
“From Jessup Spring?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“North camp.”
“Can they?”
“Not legally.”
“Apparently that concerns them less than us.”
Harlan stepped closer to the bars.
“Vale's moving fast because something changed.”
“What?”
“Don't know.”
Harriet thought.
Then she remembered the fire.
The rushed hearing.
The arrest.
All pressure.
Why?
Because Vale needed something quickly.
She hurried back to the boarding house.
Samuel sat with newspapers scattered across the dining table.
“Where are the mining reports?” Harriet asked.
“What reports?”
“The papers.”
She searched through weeks of newspapers.
Railroad announcements.
Silver prices.
Mining claims.
Then she found a small article from Denver.
Federal inspectors to review Northern Range mineral leases December 1.
December first.
Nine days.
Harriet brought it to Gideon.
He read it.
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“If Vale doesn't demonstrate active development before inspection, some preliminary claims could be contested.”
“So he needs the water now.”
“And the rail easement.”
“That's why he's rushing.”
“Yes.”
Harriet smiled.
Gideon looked nervous.
“I don't like that expression.”
“Good.”
“What are you planning?”
“To slow him down.”
“How?”
“By feeding everyone except him.”
Gideon stared.
Harriet returned to the kitchen.
Vale employed perhaps sixty workers between survey crews and the north mining camp.
But hundreds of independent miners and loggers lived along the route.
They bought Harriet's bread.
They also hauled supplies.
If they refused to transport Vale equipment, progress slowed.
Harlan would have called it organizing.
Harriet called it supper.
That night she prepared two hundred loaves.
Word traveled.
The next morning, every independent wagoner north of Bitter Creek received free breakfast at Harriet's boarding house.
Harriet stood before them.
“I am not asking anyone to break the law.”
A teamster named Frank O'Leary grinned.
“Shame.”
Laughter.
“I am asking you not to work for Vale Consolidated for nine days.”
The room quieted.
“Why should we?” another man asked.
Harriet expected that.
“Because today it's my creek.”
She pointed toward a map.
“Tomorrow it's the road you use. Next month it's timber land. Next year it's your claim.”
Murmurs.
“Vale can pay more than I can. I know that.”
She looked around.
“But men like Cyrus Vale only offer high prices until they own the thing you need. Then they set the price.”
Frank nodded slowly.
“What are you offering?”
“Breakfast.”
Laughter.
“And twenty percent off bread until December first.”
More laughter.
Someone shouted, “She's ruining herself!”
“Probably,” Harriet said.
“But you'll be well-fed while watching.”
By noon, thirty-eight wagoners had refused Vale contracts.
By evening, fifty-one.
Vale hired replacement crews from Denver.
A snowstorm blocked their train.
Harriet did not control weather.
She took credit privately.
Pearl helped pack lunches.
Josephine kept books.
Mae Foster supervised ovens.
Women who had mocked Harriet at the social now kneaded dough beside her.
The boarding-house kitchen became the busiest room in Bitter Creek.
On the third day, they produced four hundred seventy loaves.
Harriet's hands cracked and bled.
Pearl wrapped them at night.
“Don't tell anyone I said this,” Pearl murmured, “but I hate angel food cake.”
Harriet stared.
“Then why do you make it?”
“Men like it.”
Harriet laughed until her stomach hurt.
Harlan was released on bail.
He entered the kitchen at six in the evening.
Nobody noticed at first.
Then Harriet looked up.
Everything inside her went warm.
He crossed the room.
She wanted to kiss him.
Instead she said, “You're late.”
“I was imprisoned.”
“Poor excuse.”
He smiled.
Then he kissed her in front of everyone.
The kitchen erupted.
Harriet's face burned.
Pearl whooped.
Josephine dropped a spoon.
Samuel shouted from the doorway, “About time!”
Harlan pulled back.
“Sorry.”
Harriet stared at him.
“For?”
“Public display.”
She grabbed his shirt and kissed him again.
The cheering doubled.
For one perfect minute, Vale did not matter.
Neither did the fire.
Or money.
Or the town.
Then the front door opened.
Edwin Price entered.
He looked exhausted.
Harriet released Harlan.
Price removed his hat.
“I need to speak with you.”
“No.”
“Miss Bell.”
“No.”
He glanced around the crowded kitchen.
“Cyrus Vale intends to bankrupt everyone helping you.”
Silence spread.
Frank O'Leary stood from the table.
Price continued.
“He has purchased the freight company.”
Harriet's stomach dropped.
“The one from Helena?”
“Yes.”
“He cannot—”
“He did.”
Most flour, sugar, coffee, lamp oil, and medicine entered Bitter Creek through that company.
Price looked almost apologetic.
“Effective tomorrow, shipping rates triple for businesses refusing Vale contracts.”
The kitchen went dead quiet.
Harlan's face darkened.
Harriet looked at shelves holding only four days of flour.
Price put on his hat.
“You wanted to fight Mr. Vale.”
May you like
He opened the door.
“Now you'll discover what that costs.”
