Chapter 3 - More Than a Cook
Josephine did not confront Gideon the next morning.
That surprised even her.
She wanted to.
She wanted to walk into the yard, slam the invoices against his chest, and ask what kind of man stole from hungry workers while telling everyone the ranch was doomed.
But anger was expensive.
Evidence was worth more.
So Josephine cooked breakfast.
She smiled at Gideon when he entered.
She served him eggs.
She watched him eat.
Then she began asking quiet questions.
The mercantile wagon arrived every Tuesday from Red Creek.
Josephine met the driver personally.
“How many barrels of flour this month?”
“Twenty.”
She made a note.
“Coffee?”
“Six sacks.”
The invoice in Harrison’s study listed twelve.
“Salt?”
“Four.”
Invoice: eight.
Josephine thanked the driver.
Before he left, she asked, “Who signs your receipts?”
“Mr. Furlong usually.”
“Anybody else?”
“Sometimes his assistant.”
“What assistant?”
The driver pointed toward a rider near the barn.
Caleb Moss.
A quiet ranch hand Josephine barely knew.
Caleb saw them talking.
He immediately walked away.
Interesting.
That evening Josephine prepared blackberry cobbler.
Harrison entered the dining room after everyone else had finished.
“You missed supper.”
“I was at the south fence.”
“Sit.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Josephine put a plate in front of him.
“Sit.”
He sat.
After three bites, he asked, “What do you want?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You only feed me this well when you’re about to make my life difficult.”
“I feed everybody well.”
“Not with blackberry cobbler.”
Josephine placed her notebook on the table.
Harrison looked at it.
“What's that?”
“Your missing money.”
He stopped eating.
She showed him delivery quantities.
Then invoices.
Then calculations.
Harrison read silently.
Color drained from his face.
“Four thousand?”
“Close.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I wish.”
He stood abruptly.
“Where’s Gideon?”
Josephine caught his wrist.
Harrison froze.
It was the first time she had deliberately touched him.
“Not yet.”
His eyes met hers.
“He stole from me.”
“Maybe.”
“You think there’s more.”
“Yes.”
“How much more?”
“I don’t know.”
Harrison stared down at her hand on his wrist.
Josephine released him.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Neither spoke for a second.
Then Harrison sat again.
Josephine opened another page.
“If Gideon has been stealing basic supplies, why?”
“Money.”
“Four thousand over a year is a lot to us. But it isn’t enough to risk eleven years of employment if that employment gives him influence over fifty thousand acres.”
Harrison understood.
“You think it’s part of something bigger.”
“I think he wants you desperate.”
Before Harrison could answer, carriage wheels sounded outside.
Both turned.
It was nearly midnight.
Nobody visited Ironstone at midnight unless they were lost, dying, or unwelcome.
Harrison went to the window.
A black carriage stopped near the porch.
The door opened.
A woman stepped down.
Cordelia Langdon entered Ironstone Ranch like she owned the deed.
She wore burgundy velvet despite the Texas heat, pearl earrings, and an expression Josephine recognized instantly.
A woman accustomed to rooms rearranging themselves around her.
“Harrison.”
“Cordelia.”
Josephine remained seated.
Cordelia noticed her.
Her gaze moved over Josephine’s body with slow contempt.
“And what exactly is this?”
Josephine smiled.
“Good evening.”
Cordelia ignored her.
Harrison’s voice hardened.
“This is Josephine Pickett. She works here.”
“Doing?”
“Cooking.”
Cordelia laughed softly.
“I see.”
Josephine had heard that tone before.
She returned to her coffee.
Cordelia removed her gloves.
“You should have accepted the offer.”
“I told you no.”
“Silas increased it.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
Cordelia looked around the worn dining room.
“Harrison, this place is finished.”
Josephine watched Harrison.
His shoulders tightened.
Cordelia continued.
“You owe the bank. Your herd is underweight. Your wells need repair. Gideon says the men are worried.”
Josephine's cup stopped halfway to her lips.
Harrison went still.
“Gideon says?”
Cordelia realized too late.
Only for a second.
Then she smiled.
“Everybody talks.”
“Apparently.”
“Harrison, don’t be childish. Sell to Matador while there’s still something left worth buying.”
Josephine finally spoke.
“Why are they so generous?”
Cordelia turned toward her.
“Excuse me?”
“Matador. Why offer good money for a ranch you say is finished?”
“That is business beyond your understanding.”
“Then explain slowly.”
Harrison coughed into his fist.
Cordelia’s face hardened.
“You should control your servants.”
Josephine rose.
She was several inches shorter than Cordelia in heels but twice as difficult to intimidate.
“I am not livestock, Mrs. Langdon.”
“Miss Langdon.”
“That explains the temperament.”
Harrison looked down to hide a smile.
Cordelia’s cheeks flushed.
“You are impertinent.”
“And you arrived after midnight insulting your host’s employees.”
Josephine picked up the empty cobbler dish.
“Seems we both have flaws.”
She started toward the kitchen.
Cordelia said loudly, “People should know their place.”
Josephine stopped.
Slowly, she turned.
“My place is anywhere my work makes me useful.”
She looked directly into Cordelia’s eyes.
“Can you say the same?”
Silence.
Then Josephine walked away.
From the kitchen she could still hear Cordelia.
“You let that woman speak to me that way?”
“That woman has saved me more money in three weeks than some people have managed in three years.”
“Harrison—”
“And you mentioned Gideon.”
A pause.
Josephine leaned closer to the door.
Cordelia recovered quickly.
“Silas speaks to everyone.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“Maybe.”
Cordelia lowered her voice.
“You are about to lose everything. Pride won’t save you.”
“No.”
Harrison’s reply was quiet.
“But selling to the people waiting for my failure won’t either.”
The front door slammed minutes later.
Josephine returned.
Harrison stood at the window watching Cordelia’s carriage disappear.
“You were listening.”
“Yes.”
“I should be offended.”
“You should improve your doors.”
He turned.
“Cordelia’s father owned the neighboring ranch before Matador bought it.”
“Does she work for them?”
“She says no.”
“And you believe her?”
“I used to.”
Josephine heard the weight in those words.
There was history there.
She did not ask.
Harrison looked toward the yard.
“If Gideon is speaking to Cordelia…”
“Then Gideon is speaking to Matador.”
Harrison's expression became grim.
“I want him gone tomorrow.”
Josephine shook her head.
“No.”
“He’s stealing from me.”
“And perhaps arranging something larger.”
“How long am I supposed to let him stay?”
“Until he shows us who else is involved.”
Harrison walked to the table.
“You’re asking me to watch a thief eat at my table.”
“I’m asking you to pretend ignorance long enough to learn what he wants.”
He stared at her.
“You've done this before?”
“Caught thieves?”
“Yes.”
Josephine smiled without humor.
“I ran a boardinghouse with my mother for twelve years.”
“And?”
“Ranchers aren’t half as dangerous as widows arguing over laundry.”
Harrison laughed despite himself.
Then Josephine opened her notebook.
“I need access to every ranch ledger from the last two years.”
His laughter vanished.
“Every ledger?”
“Yes.”
“That is private business.”
“So was your missing four thousand dollars.”
Harrison hesitated.
Then he pulled a key from his pocket.
He placed it on the table.
“The records room.”
Josephine looked at the key.
“You trust me?”
“No.”
She looked up.
Harrison’s mouth curved faintly.
“But I trust you more than Gideon.”
Josephine picked up the key.
“That will do.”
Neither of them knew Gideon was standing on the dark porch outside.
He had heard enough.
By dawn, the ledger Josephine needed most would be gone.
May you like
And the theft she had uncovered would become only the first move in a much larger war.
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