Chapter 9 - The Price of Water
Josephine had never led men into danger.
She had led kitchen workers through a hotel fire once.
She had dragged a drunken boarder out of a snowbank.
She had faced creditors, illness, poverty, and strangers who believed cruelty was entertainment.
But twelve mounted rustlers were different.
Judson looked at her.
“What do we do?”
Josephine hated that everyone else did too.
“Don’t chase them.”
Judson frowned.
“They’ll take the herd.”
“They want us riding into darkness.”
She looked toward the barn.
“How many riders do we have?”
“Six.”
“How many horses?”
“Plenty.”
“Lanterns?”
“Yes.”
Josephine thought.
Then smiled.
“Good.”
Twenty minutes later, the ranch yard exploded with movement.
Not toward the rustlers.
Along the ridge.
Six riders galloped in separate directions carrying lanterns.
Farmhands drove two wagons with more lanterns swinging from poles.
From the darkness below, it appeared an enormous force was spreading across the range.
Judson fired one shot into the air.
Then Caleb shouted as loudly as he could.
“SAN ANGELO MEN COMING FROM THE SOUTH!”
It was a lie.
A useful one.
The rustlers hesitated.
Josephine watched from the porch.
“Again.”
Another rider shouted.
“SHERIFF’S MEN ON THE RIDGE!”
The rustlers broke.
They turned their horses and fled north without touching the herd.
Judson returned laughing so hard he nearly fell from his saddle.
“You scared them off with lanterns!”
Josephine lowered the revolver.
“I scared them off with their imagination.”
By dawn, the victory felt less satisfying.
Tracks led toward the burned pump.
One horse had thrown a shoe.
Caleb found it.
Stamped beneath the heel was a mark.
LF.
Langdon Farms.
Cordelia stared at the horseshoe later that morning.
“These were sold with the ranch.”
“To Matador?” Josephine asked.
“Yes.”
“Then Vane’s men were with Gideon.”
Cordelia nodded.
“This can’t continue.”
“It won’t.”
Josephine was tired.
Not ordinary tired.
Bone tired.
But Harrison remained away, and Ironstone still needed money.
On the third day a telegram arrived.
SALE COMPLETED. RETURNING TOMORROW. H.
Josephine read it twice.
He had done it.
Four hundred cattle sold.
If the price held, the ranch would be close to its bank payment.
She smiled.
Then another telegram arrived.
From the bank.
NOTICE: ADDITIONAL PENALTY ASSESSMENT $2,800 DUE WITH PAYMENT.
Josephine stared.
The bank had moved the target again.
Cordelia read it over her shoulder.
“They can’t do that.”
“They just did.”
“They’re forcing default.”
“Yes.”
Josephine folded the telegram.
“Then we stop fighting the branch.”
“What?”
“We go over them.”
She wrote directly to the bank’s head office in Dallas.
Every document.
Every changed demand.
Every suspicious connection.
She included copies of Vane Freight invoices and the railway documents Cordelia had taken.
Then she sent the package by trusted courier.
Harrison returned the next afternoon.
Josephine met him in the yard.
He climbed down stiffly from his horse.
“Eight thousand nine hundred.”
Her face brightened.
“Good.”
“What happened here?”
She told him.
Rustlers.
Tom.
The bank telegram.
His expression darkened with every sentence.
When she finished, he said, “You should’ve left.”
Josephine stared.
“What?”
“When riders came. You should have taken the women and gone to Red Creek.”
“And given them the herd?”
“I don’t care about the damn herd.”
“Well, I do.”
“I care about you!”
The words landed between them.
Harrison froze.
So did Josephine.
Judson, passing nearby, immediately turned around.
“I forgot something.”
He disappeared.
Josephine looked at Harrison.
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“That came out wrong.”
“Did it?”
He met her eyes.
“No.”
Neither knew what to say.
Finally Josephine held out the bank telegram.
“We have work.”
Harrison took it.
“Josephine.”
“Later.”
She walked toward the house.
For once, he obeyed.
That evening they counted cash.
Provision profits.
Cattle sale.
Emergency reserve.
They had eleven thousand four hundred dollars.
The bank demanded fourteen thousand eight hundred.
They were short three thousand four hundred.
Twelve days remained.
Harrison looked defeated.
Josephine studied the books.
“Water.”
“What?”
“Our water.”
“You can’t sell it. Cattle need it.”
“Not ours.”
“Whose?”
“Other ranchers.”
He frowned.
Josephine unfolded a county map.
Three neighboring properties had failing wells.
One belonged to a widow named Martha Bell.
Another was owned by two brothers.
The third belonged to a rancher already negotiating with Matador.
“What if Ironstone sells temporary water access?”
Harrison stared.
“In a drought?”
“Especially in a drought.”
“They can’t afford much.”
“They can afford less than losing their cattle.”
“That feels like taking advantage.”
“Then don’t.”
Josephine pointed.
“Charge enough to cover pumping and maintenance. Fair rates. Long-term agreements.”
He understood.
“If the railroad comes…”
“Ironstone becomes more valuable because surrounding ranches survive too.”
Harrison smiled slowly.
“You aren’t thinking like a cook anymore.”
Josephine looked at him.
“I never was only a cook.”
The first water contract brought five hundred dollars.
The second brought seven hundred.
Martha Bell could afford only two hundred.
Harrison accepted it.
Josephine approved.
Within a week, Ironstone’s wells watered cattle from four ranches.
And something unexpected happened.
Neighboring ranchers stopped viewing Ironstone as a dying competitor.
They began viewing it as the reason they might survive.
Then the Dallas bank office responded.
A senior investigator was coming personally.
For the first time, Vane’s financial pressure might be exposed.
But that same evening, a rider found something beside Dry Creek.
A body.
Alive.
Barely.
Gideon Furlong had been beaten and abandoned on Ironstone land.
And before losing consciousness, he whispered one sentence.
“Vane knows about the ledger.”
Josephine leaned closer.
“What ledger?”
Gideon’s eyes opened.
“The one that proves everything.”
May you like
Then he passed out.
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