Chapter 5 - Velvet and Venom
Gideon did not confess.
Men like Gideon rarely did.
Instead he sat across from Harrison with one ankle resting on his knee and acted insulted.
He called the false invoices bookkeeping arrangements.
He called Furlong Agricultural Services legitimate.
He called Matador a customer.
He called Josephine suspicious.
And he called Harrison ungrateful.
“I kept this place running after your father died.”
Harrison’s face was stone.
“You stole from it.”
“I borrowed money owed to me.”
“Four thousand dollars?”
“I spent eleven years working for less than I was worth.”
“You agreed to your wages.”
Gideon leaned forward.
“So did she.”
His eyes moved toward Josephine.
“Yet now she’s reading private ledgers and whispering in your ear.”
Josephine did not respond.
Gideon wanted anger.
Anger made mistakes.
Instead she poured coffee.
“You going to let a kitchen woman tell you how to run cattle?” Gideon asked Harrison.
Harrison answered, “The kitchen woman found what my foreman hid.”
That landed.
Gideon stood.
“You fire me, half your men walk.”
“No,” Judson said from the wall.
Everybody turned.
Judson removed his hat.
“Speaking for myself, I’m staying.”
Caleb stepped beside him.
“So am I.”
Gideon stared at Caleb.
The young man went pale but held his ground.
Harrison pointed toward the door.
“Get off Ironstone.”
Gideon smiled.
“You’ll regret that.”
“I already regret keeping you this long.”
“This ranch won’t make winter.”
“Then you won’t mind leaving.”
For several seconds Gideon did not move.
Finally, he walked toward the door.
He stopped beside Josephine.
“You think you’re clever.”
“No,” she said. “I think you were careless.”
“You don’t belong here.”
Josephine met his eyes.
“I hear that often.”
“You’ll hear it again.”
Then Gideon left.
Harrison exhaled.
Judson said, “That went better than expected.”
A horse galloped out of the yard.
Josephine turned to Harrison.
“Change the locks.”
“Tonight.”
“And inventory everything.”
“Tonight.”
“Move the payroll money.”
Harrison frowned.
“Where?”
“Kitchen.”
Everyone stared.
Josephine shrugged.
“No man in this ranch enters my pantry without permission anymore.”
Judson nodded solemnly.
“She means that.”
For two days, Ironstone existed in uneasy calm.
Then Cordelia Langdon returned.
This time in daylight.
And this time she brought Silas Vane.
Vane was elegant in a way that felt unnatural in Texas.
Gray suit.
Silver watch chain.
Clean fingernails.
Smile without warmth.
He sat in Harrison’s parlor and placed a contract on the table.
“Forty-five thousand dollars.”
Harrison did not touch it.
“For?”
“Ironstone.”
“No.”
Vane smiled.
“You owe thirty-six.”
“I know what I owe.”
“Then you also know nine thousand dollars of profit is better than foreclosure.”
Josephine stood near the window.
Cordelia noticed.
“You invite servants to business meetings now?”
Harrison replied, “I invite anyone I choose.”
Vane glanced at Josephine.
“So this is Miss Pickett.”
Josephine's attention sharpened.
He knew her name.
“You’ve heard of me?”
“Mr. Furlong mentioned you.”
“I imagine fondly.”
Vane smiled.
“He said you were ambitious.”
“And what did he say you were?”
Cordelia sighed.
“Must she be here?”
“Yes,” Harrison said.
Vane opened the contract.
“Your bank note comes due December first. We can close immediately.”
Josephine asked, “Why?”
He looked at her.
“Why what?”
“Why immediately?”
“Efficiency.”
“You could wait for foreclosure.”
Harrison turned toward her.
Vane’s smile thinned.
Josephine continued.
“If you believe Ironstone cannot pay its debt, why offer forty-five thousand today when you might buy it cheaper from the bank?”
Cordelia’s eyes hardened.
Vane said, “Because uncertainty has a price.”
Josephine walked toward the table.
“So does desperation.”
Vane closed the contract.
“Miss Pickett, I admire confidence.”
“No, you don’t.”
Harrison almost smiled.
Vane stood.
“My offer expires in seventy-two hours.”
“Then it expires,” Harrison said.
Vane buttoned his coat.
At the door, he turned to Josephine.
“Texas is difficult country for people without friends.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Be careful.”
Josephine smiled.
“Was that concern?”
Vane left without answering.
Cordelia remained.
“Harrison, please.”
His expression softened slightly.
“Why do you care?”
She looked genuinely hurt.
“You think I want to see you ruined?”
“I don’t know what you want anymore.”
Cordelia lowered her voice.
“Sell.”
“Why?”
“Because Vane won’t stop.”
Josephine heard fear.
Not contempt.
Fear.
Harrison heard it too.
“What has he done?”
Cordelia looked toward Josephine and refused to answer.
Harrison said, “You can speak in front of her.”
That hurt Cordelia more than any insult.
Her face closed.
“I tried.”
She walked out.
Josephine watched her carriage disappear.
“She knows something.”
Harrison nodded.
“And she’s terrified.”
That evening a telegram arrived.
The First Territorial Bank had changed the terms of Harrison’s note.
Payment would no longer be accepted in December.
They demanded partial settlement within thirty days.
Twelve thousand dollars.
Harrison read the telegram twice.
“They can’t do this.”
Josephine asked, “Can they?”
“Not under the agreement.”
“Then why try?”
“Because they think I’ll panic.”
Josephine looked toward the road Vane had taken.
“Or because somebody at the bank belongs to Matador.”
Harrison sank into a chair.
Twelve thousand dollars in thirty days.
Ironstone had less than three thousand in cash.
Its cattle were too thin to bring proper prices.
The drought continued.
The foreman was gone.
And Matador now knew Josephine and Harrison had uncovered part of the scheme.
Harrison rubbed his face.
“For the first time, I think Gideon may have been right.”
“About?”
“Not making winter.”
Josephine looked around the room.
At the ledgers.
At the map of Ironstone.
At fifty thousand acres represented in faded ink.
She reached for the map.
“How many cattle can you sell without destroying the breeding herd?”
“Six hundred.”
“At current prices?”
“Maybe twelve dollars a head.”
“Seven thousand two hundred.”
“Less transport.”
“How many horses?”
“Josephine—”
“How many?”
“Forty we could spare.”
“What else produces money?”
“Nothing quickly.”
She spread the map across the table.
“Then we make something.”
Harrison gave a tired laugh.
“We have thirty days.”
“I know.”
“You can’t cook twelve thousand dollars.”
Josephine looked at him.
“No.”
Then her gaze dropped to the railway line running thirty miles east.
“But maybe we can feed the people carrying it.”
Harrison frowned.
Josephine smiled.
And by midnight, she had created a plan so ridiculous that Harrison spent ten full minutes explaining why it could never work.
May you like
By sunrise, he was helping her calculate the cost.
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