Chapter 12 - Mabel Pike Changes Sides
Mabel claimed she had never changed sides.
“I was always on the side of good sense.”
Harriet raised an eyebrow.
“You told me to bury the milk.”
“That was sensible at the time.”
“You laughed.”
“I did not.”
“You stepped backward and said it might poison the creek.”
Mabel considered.
“That sounds like me.”
Harriet smiled.
They sat on Pike House porch while autumn wind moved through the cottonwoods.
Orson had been released pending investigation.
No charges yet.
Roy Cobb’s testimony opened several inquiries.
The land case had shifted strongly toward Harriet.
The patent claim weakened.
Business improved.
By ordinary measurement, Harriet was winning.
She did not feel like it.
She felt tired.
Mabel handed her coffee.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“That answer should be illegal.”
Harriet stared across the road.
“What happens when this is over?”
Mabel blinked.
“You make money.”
“I mean after.”
“After money?”
“After fighting.”
Mabel understood.
For months Harriet’s life had been organized around resistance.
Every morning began with a problem created by someone else.
What would remain when nobody was attacking?
“Perhaps,” Mabel said, “you discover what you wanted before Orson decided he wanted it too.”
Harriet looked down.
The farm.
That had been the dream.
Own land.
Grow food.
Wake without someone else’s bell.
No hotel laundry.
No foreman.
No rented room.
But Voss Bond had changed the shape of possibility.
Harriet liked making something.
She liked solving problems.
She liked paying farmers for materials they had once discarded.
She even liked Edwin’s orders, although she would never admit it to him.
“What if I want both?” she asked.
Mabel shrugged.
“Then have both.”
“That sounds simple.”
“Most impossible things sound simple when spoken by people who do not have to accomplish them.”
Harriet laughed.
Mabel’s expression softened.
“You are allowed to build a life larger than survival.”
That sentence stayed.
Later that day Harriet returned to the farm.
Thomas was repairing the workshop door.
She watched him from the path.
He looked up.
“You’re staring.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That has caused trouble before.”
She walked closer.
“What do you want?”
He put down the hammer.
“Currently?”
“In life.”
His smile faded.
“That is a dangerous question.”
“Answer it.”
Thomas sat on the step.
“I want work I don’t hate.”
“Achieved?”
“Mostly.”
“A home?”
“Yes.”
“Family?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
Harriet became aware of the distance between them.
Not much.
Thomas asked, “Why?”
“No reason.”
“That was not convincing.”
She turned toward the barn.
He caught her hand.
Not tightly.
Enough to stop her.
“Harriet.”
She looked back.
Thomas stood.
“I stayed because of the business at first.”
“At first?”
“I thought somebody should help you.”
“I did not require saving.”
“I know. You made that painfully clear.”
She almost smiled.
He continued.
“Then I stayed because I liked working with you.”
Harriet’s heartbeat changed.
“And now?”
“Now I’m waiting to learn whether you’ll ever notice I look at you differently than I look at glue.”
She laughed.
He laughed too.
The tension broke just enough.
Harriet asked, “How do you look at glue?”
“With professional respect.”
“And me?”
Thomas stepped closer.
“Less professionally.”
Harriet looked at him for a long moment.
Then kissed him.
It was brief.
Surprised.
Almost clumsy.
When they separated, Thomas looked stunned.
Harriet said, “Don’t make a speech.”
“I had one.”
“I know.”
“It was excellent.”
“I’m sure.”
He smiled.
Then a wagon rolled into the yard.
Edwin.
Thomas sighed.
“Of course.”
Edwin jumped down.
“I have good news.”
Thomas muttered, “I don’t.”
Harriet ignored him.
“What news?”
Edwin handed her a letter.
A manufacturing firm in Cheyenne offered to purchase exclusive rights to Voss Bond.
The number at the bottom was two hundred fifty dollars.
Harriet read it.
Thomas whistled.
Mabel, who had apparently followed Harriet home without invitation, said, “Take it.”
Harriet looked at her.
“You told me to have both.”
“I also believe in money.”
The offer would solve everything.
Equipment.
Farm repairs.
Security.
But exclusive rights meant losing control.
The firm could change ingredients.
Lower standards.
Use her name.
Harriet folded the letter.
“No.”
Edwin stared.
“No?”
“No.”
“Two hundred fifty dollars.”
“I can read.”
“Do you know how much—”
“Yes.”
Mabel looked ill.
Thomas remained quiet.
Edwin paced.
“Why?”
Harriet explained.
He stopped.
“They might negotiate.”
“Then they can buy distribution rights, not ownership.”
Edwin stared.
“You’re becoming a businessman.”
“Businesswoman.”
“Worse.”
She smiled.
The offer changed something important.
Voss Bond had value beyond Harriet’s farm.
Real value.
Enough that established companies wanted control.
Harriet would negotiate from strength.
Two days later, Mabel did something nobody expected.
She sold a small parcel behind Pike House.
Then she arrived at Harriet’s farm with fifty dollars.
Harriet stared at the money.
“No.”
Mabel rolled her eyes.
“Not this again.”
“What is it?”
“Investment.”
“In what?”
“Voss Agricultural Works.”
“We do not have a company called that.”
“We do now.”
“You named my business?”
“Someone had to.”
Harriet laughed.
Mabel continued.
“Fifty dollars for ten percent.”
“That’s too much.”
“Then give me five.”
“You bargain against yourself terribly.”
“I am old enough to waste money however I please.”
Harriet’s eyes burned unexpectedly.
Mabel saw.
“Do not cry.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I said I’m not.”
“Good. Tears make negotiations tedious.”
They agreed on eight percent.
Harriet wrote the first formal partnership document at her kitchen table.
Harriet Voss.
Mabel Pike.
Thomas Reed as operations manager, once wages allowed.
Edwin Marsh under separate sales commission.
Caleb handling accounts part-time.
A strange collection.
Built from three barrels of sour milk.
At sunset, Harriet stood outside.
Thomas joined her.
“You realize Mabel just bought part of your garbage.”
Harriet smiled.
“It isn’t garbage.”
“I know.”
Below them, the south field stretched toward cottonwoods.
Beyond it, survey stakes marked the future road.
The valley was changing.
Harriet was changing with it.
Then Caleb arrived.
He carried a small metal cashbox.
His face looked frightened.
“I found this in Father’s warehouse.”
Harriet stiffened.
“Found?”
“He told me to clear my old desk.”
“Did you steal it?”
“No. It was under the false bottom of the desk he gave me.”
Caleb set the box down.
Inside were letters.
Receipts.
Copies of land agreements.
And one document bearing the signature of a railroad agent.
Rebecca read it the next morning.
Then looked at Harriet.
“This proves Bellweather knew the final route months before public notice.”
“So?”
“So he pressured indebted landholders using confidential information.”
Harriet’s stomach tightened.
Rebecca lifted another paper.
“And this suggests he paid Pierce to file the patent claim specifically to weaken your finances before the land hearing.”
Mabel smiled without humor.
“Now we have fire.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
She held up the letters.
May you like
“Now we have smoke coming from his own pocket.”
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