Four days later, two Holloway hands received job offers from Langley's outfit. Not vague promises. Specific wages.
A dollar more per week. Better bunkhouse. Signing money if they left before March. One of the men brought the note to Eli instead of accepting it.
Matthew read it at the kitchen table that evening. Rachel stood beside the stove.
"Coincidence?" he asked.
"No."
"You sound certain."
"I am."
Then Dawson's Mercantile refused to extend their usual 30-day credit on the next supply order. The clerk's note was polite. Cash required until further notice.
Rachel carried the paper into Matthew's office. He read it once.
"Why?"
"They didn't say."
"They've carried us for six years."
"Maybe George Baines changed his terms."
"George doesn't own Dawson's."
"He finances half the businesses on Main Street."
Matthew looked up. Rachel had already pulled the old receipts. Flour delayed.
Coffee missing. Credit withdrawn. Men being offered more money. She placed each paper in a row across the desk.
Matthew's face became unreadable. "You think Langley arranged all this?"
"I think he offered to buy your water. You refused. Now every pressure point on the ranch is being squeezed."
Matthew stood and crossed to the window. "George Baines doesn't work for Langley."
"No."
Rachel hesitated. "But he may owe him."
Matthew turned. "What?"
She pulled one older merchant invoice from the folder. At the bottom, nearly hidden beneath George Baines's usual stamp, was another notation.
V. L. Holdings.
Rachel had seen it before without understanding it. Now she remembered a cattle receipt from town carrying the same mark. She set both papers side by side.
Matthew came closer. "What is that?"
"I think Langley's company advanced Baines money."
"For what?"
"I don't know."
Rachel tapped the date. "But it started in November. The same month the freight costs began rising."
Matthew's jaw tightened. "So Baines is helping him."
"Maybe because he wants to."
Rachel looked at the papers. "Maybe because he doesn't have a choice."
The cookhouse clock ticked in the next room. Matthew rested both hands on the desk. For a long moment, neither spoke.
Rachel looked at the man beside her. The giant rancher everyone in Cold Water assumed could not be pushed. Now someone was pushing him without ever setting foot on his land. Through flour.
Through wages. Through credit. Through men. Matthew looked at the documents again.