Chapter 4 - Forty Barrels of Flour
The records room smelled of dust, leather, and forgotten money.
Josephine entered before sunrise carrying an oil lamp.
Rows of ledgers filled wooden shelves.
Cattle purchases.
Land taxes.
Payroll.
Equipment.
Feed.
Bank correspondence.
She began with supplies.
The book for the previous year was missing.
Josephine searched twice.
Nothing.
She checked the shelf labels.
1886.
1887.
1888.
The year 1888 had vanished.
Of course it had.
Harrison arrived ten minutes later.
“Find anything?”
“Something missing.”
He saw the empty space.
His expression darkened.
“Gideon.”
“Probably.”
“I should’ve confronted him.”
“And then we’d know even less.”
Josephine removed the 1887 ledger.
“Help me carry these.”
They worked through breakfast.
Judson brought coffee.
When he saw Harrison seated beside Josephine at the study table, surrounded by account books, he blinked.
“Everything all right?”
“No,” Harrison said.
Josephine said, “Yes.”
Judson looked between them.
“I’ll come back.”
By noon, they found a pattern.
The missing supplies were only one part.
Fence wire purchased at twice market price.
Veterinary medicine from a company Harrison had never heard of.
Payments to transport cattle that had supposedly been moved by Ironstone employees.
And strangely frequent repairs on the north wells.
Josephine circled three names.
“Same companies.”
Harrison nodded.
“Vane Freight.”
“Matador-connected?”
“I don’t know.”
“West County Mercantile.”
“Closed last year.”
“Furlong Agricultural Services.”
Harrison stared.
“That has to be coincidence.”
Josephine looked at him.
“Does it?”
He stood.
“My foreman’s last name is Furlong.”
“I noticed.”
Harrison paced.
“He said his brother owned a supply business in Abilene.”
“Maybe he does.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No.”
They needed proof.
Josephine proposed sending Judson to Red Creek for company registrations and bank information.
Harrison objected immediately.
“Too dangerous.”
“He’s twenty-six.”
“He acts fourteen.”
“People underestimate him.”
“So do I.”
“Exactly.”
Judson accepted before Harrison finished explaining.
“Spy work?”
“Document work,” Harrison corrected.
“Sounds like spy work.”
“You’re visiting a courthouse.”
“Courthouse spy work.”
Josephine handed him a list.
“Ask quietly.”
Judson touched his hat.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He left after lunch.
Gideon disappeared shortly afterward.
That concerned Josephine.
Near sunset, she was chopping onions when Caleb Moss entered the kitchen.
He looked nervous.
“Miss Pickett?”
“Yes?”
“Need to tell you something.”
Josephine put down the knife.
Caleb glanced toward the door.
“Gideon knows.”
“What?”
“That you’re checking accounts.”
Josephine’s pulse quickened.
“How?”
“Found out somehow.”
“And you?”
Caleb swallowed.
“I helped him.”
Josephine said nothing.
“He told me it was just little things,” Caleb continued. “Extra invoices. Said Mr. Croft owed him after all these years. Gave me ten dollars sometimes to sign deliveries.”
“How long?”
“Eight months.”
“Where’s the money?”
“I don’t know.”
Josephine stepped closer.
“Caleb, listen carefully. Was Gideon working for Matador?”
Caleb’s face gave her the answer.
“He met a man.”
“Silas Vane?”
“I don't know his name.”
“Where?”
“Old line shack north of Dry Creek.”
“When?”
“Usually Thursday nights.”
Tomorrow was Thursday.
Josephine kept her voice calm.
“You’re going to tell Harrison exactly what you told me.”
Caleb panicked.
“No.”
“You are.”
“Gideon will kill me.”
“Harrison won't let him.”
“You don’t know Gideon.”
“And you don’t know Harrison.”
Caleb looked toward the door again.
“You don’t understand. This ain’t just stealing flour.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He lowered his voice.
“They’re changing the ranch records.”
Josephine stopped breathing for a second.
“What records?”
“Cattle counts. Water rights. Debt notes. Gideon told me when Matador takes Ironstone, nobody will know what was real.”
Josephine felt cold.
“Who has the missing ledger?”
“Gideon.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Before she could ask another question, a gunshot cracked outside.
Caleb flinched.
Josephine hurried to the door.
A rider was approaching at speed.
Judson.
His horse was foaming.
He nearly fell from the saddle.
Harrison came running from the barn.
“What happened?”
Judson held up an envelope.
“Somebody followed me out of Red Creek.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know.”
Josephine looked at the envelope.
“What did you find?”
Judson grinned despite his fear.
“Enough.”
Inside the study, he emptied documents across the desk.
Furlong Agricultural Services had been formed fourteen months earlier.
The owner was not Gideon’s brother.
The owner was Gideon himself.
Vane Freight had the same business address as the Matador Syndicate’s regional office.
West County Mercantile had been purchased by Matador three months before it closed.
Harrison stared at the papers.
Josephine watched something die in his face.
Trust.
Eleven years of it.
Gone in a minute.
“He buried my father,” Harrison whispered.
Josephine said nothing.
“He stood beside me at the funeral.”
“Harrison.”
“I made him foreman.”
“You didn’t make him a thief.”
His eyes remained on the documents.
“I trusted him.”
“That was his advantage.”
A knock came at the study door.
Gideon entered.
He looked at Judson.
Then the papers.
Then Josephine.
Nobody spoke.
Gideon smiled slowly.
“Busy evening.”
Harrison stood.
Josephine had never seen him look so dangerous.
“Where were you?”
“Checking cattle.”
“At Dry Creek?”
Gideon’s expression barely changed.
But it changed.
Enough.
Harrison stepped forward.
Josephine intervened.
“Coffee?”
All three men stared at her.
She looked at Gideon.
“Would you like coffee?”
He understood the challenge.
“No.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
Josephine gathered the documents.
“Because we’re going to be here awhile.”
Gideon looked at Harrison.
“You letting your cook run the ranch now?”
Harrison’s voice was quiet.
“She seems to be doing a better job than my foreman.”
Gideon’s eyes hardened.
The line had been drawn.
And everyone in the room knew it.
Then Gideon smiled.
“All right.”
He removed his gloves.
“Let’s talk about Ironstone.”
What came next would reveal why Matador wanted more than Harrison’s land.
May you like
It wanted something buried beneath it.
---
