Chapter 15 - The Worst Winter in Twenty Years
The first snow arrived in November.
Texas snow rarely frightened Harrison.
This did.
The storm came down from the north with temperatures collapsing faster than anyone predicted.
Rain froze.
Wind screamed through gaps in barns.
Cattle crowded fences.
By midnight, Ironstone was white beneath ice.
Josephine stood in the kitchen feeding thirty exhausted workers while Harrison organized crews.
The missing contracts still had not been found.
But weather did not care about lawyers.
“North herd needs moving,” Harrison said.
Josephine handed him coffee.
“To where?”
“Cottonwood basin.”
“Does it have shelter?”
“Some.”
“How many cattle?”
“Nearly a thousand.”
“Take food.”
“No room.”
Josephine packed it anyway.
“Take food.”
He kissed her forehead.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The storm lasted three days.
They lost cattle.
Not many.
Enough.
Fences collapsed.
One barn roof failed.
The road to Red Creek disappeared beneath drifts.
Josephine’s provision business stopped completely.
Cash stopped with it.
The final bank payment deadline approached.
Ironstone had the money.
Barely.
But the larger Matador purchase required financing.
Nobody would lend against disputed property without original contracts.
Somebody had stolen their future again.
On the fourth night, Gideon entered the kitchen.
Josephine looked up.
“You’re supposed to be repairing the west shed.”
“I know.”
He placed a bundle on the table.
Wrapped in oilcloth.
Josephine’s heart stopped.
The original contracts.
She stared.
“Where did you get those?”
“Judson’s room.”
Her face hardened.
“No.”
“I found them under a loose floorboard.”
“No.”
“Josephine.”
“Judson would not steal these.”
Gideon looked tired.
“I thought the same thing.”
They confronted him.
Judson went pale.
“I didn’t put them there.”
Harrison asked, “Who has access to your room?”
“Everybody.”
“That doesn’t help.”
Judson looked at Josephine.
“You believe me?”
She wanted to say yes.
Instead she said, “I believe we don’t know enough.”
Pain crossed his face.
It hurt her too.
Then Beatrice entered.
“There’s a woman outside.”
“In this storm?”
“She walked.”
They hurried to the porch.
Cordelia Langdon stood in snow-soaked velvet, shivering violently.
Harrison caught her as she nearly collapsed.
Inside, Josephine wrapped her in blankets.
“What happened?”
Cordelia’s teeth chattered.
“Vane escaped custody.”
Harrison went still.
“How?”
“Deputy was bribed.”
Josephine asked, “Why did you walk?”
“My carriage overturned.”
“What does Vane want?”
“The contracts.”
Gideon held up the bundle.
“He already had them planted.”
Cordelia stared.
“What?”
Josephine explained.
Cordelia’s face changed.
“Judson.”
He stepped forward.
She shook her head.
“No. Not Judson.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Vane told me he would make Harrison distrust the only people still loyal to him.”
Josephine looked at Gideon.
“Who else was in Judson’s room?”
Gideon hesitated.
“Me.”
Harrison’s face hardened.
Gideon raised his hands.
“I found them there.”
Cordelia stared at him.
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“Vane told me yesterday the contracts were not yet inside Ironstone.”
Silence.
Gideon looked down at the bundle.
Josephine understood first.
“Those aren’t originals.”
They opened the documents.
Excellent copies.
But one signature was wrong.
Samuel Croft always signed the middle initial T.
This version omitted it.
The real documents were still missing.
Vane had planted false papers to create confusion.
Judson sank into a chair.
“I knew I didn’t steal them.”
Josephine squeezed his shoulder.
“Sorry.”
“Does this mean extra pie?”
“No.”
“Had to try.”
Cordelia recovered enough to speak.
“Vane is heading north.”
“Why?”
“Bellweather is coming.”
The room quieted.
August Bellweather himself had finally entered the war.
He was traveling with lawyers, bankers, and a private survey team.
In four days, a district judge would hear an emergency challenge to Ironstone’s option.
Without the original contracts, Harrison would likely lose.
Josephine asked Cordelia, “Where would Vane keep them?”
“If he has them?”
“Yes.”
“Matador headquarters in Red Creek.”
Harrison stood.
“We’re going.”
Josephine shook her head.
“Not tonight.”
“We have four days.”
“And a blizzard.”
“I’m not waiting.”
“You freeze on that road, contracts won’t matter.”
He looked furious.
Josephine stepped close.
“You trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then wait until daylight.”
He exhaled.
“Fine.”
At dawn, the temperature fell even lower.
No one went anywhere.
The road vanished entirely.
Four days became three.
Then two.
The storm trapped them.
Josephine stood before the kitchen window watching snow bury Texas and felt time disappearing.
Then a sound emerged from the white distance.
Bells.
A wagon.
Martha Bell, the widow whose cattle Ironstone watered, arrived wrapped in blankets with six neighboring ranchers.
“We heard you needed help.”
Harrison stared.
“How did you get here?”
“Slowly.”
Behind them came more riders.
Ranchers Ironstone had helped during drought.
Men who had eaten Josephine’s meals.
Families whose livestock survived because Harrison charged fair water prices.
Martha smiled.
“You kept us alive this summer.”
She pointed toward a line of sled wagons.
“Figured we could return the favor.”
Twenty-four horses.
Six wagons.
Thirty people.
Enough manpower to open a road.
Josephine looked at Harrison.
He looked back.
This was what Ironstone had built without realizing it.
Not simply profit.
Loyalty.
By nightfall, they had cut a route toward Red Creek.
Josephine climbed onto the lead wagon.
Harrison raised an eyebrow.
“You hate winter.”
“I also hate horses.”
“You coming anyway?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
Together, they left Ironstone.
Behind them, every lantern on the ranch burned against the snow.
Ahead waited August Bellweather, Silas Vane, and a courtroom that could determine who owned the largest stretch of cattle land in West Texas.
Josephine tightened her coat.
She had arrived in Texas as a cook.
By tomorrow, she might leave the courthouse as something no one who laughed at her could have imagined.
May you like
An owner.
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