“Very fair.”
“You nearly dismissed me on sight.”
“Yes.”
“You hid financial trouble.”
“Yes.”
“You repeatedly attempted to work while injured.”
“Yes.”
“You cook badly.”
“That is unnecessary.”
“It is relevant.”
He smiled.
Martha finally looked at him.
“But you learn.”
His smile faded.
She continued.
“That is rarer than people think.”
For a second neither moved.
Then Billy shouted from outside:
“GIDEON SAYS THE SOUTH GATE’S DOWN!”
Josiah closed his eyes.
Martha sighed.
“Romance interrupted by infrastructure.”
He looked at her.
“Was that romance?”
“Go fix the gate.”
He stood so fast his knee struck the table.
Martha smiled into her coffee.
That afternoon they rode—Martha in the low freight wagon—to Silver City to find an attorney.
The partnership contract took three days.
Martha read every clause.
Then made the attorney explain six of them again.
The attorney finally looked toward Josiah.
“Does she always do this?”
Josiah answered:
“Yes.”
Martha looked up.
“And that is why he still owns a ranch.”
The attorney stopped complaining.
When they returned, Gideon had already begun rebuilding the smokehouse without permission.
Martha stood before the new wall.
“It’s wrong.”
Gideon stared.
“I’ve built buildings for thirty years.”
“That explains the age of your mistakes.”
Billy turned away to hide laughter.
Gideon pointed toward the wall.
“What is wrong?”
“The doorway.”
“What about it?”
“Too narrow.”
“For what?”
“For me, for a loaded handcart, and for two men carrying a ham rack.”
“It’s a smokehouse door.”
“It’s a bottleneck.”
Gideon looked toward Josiah.
“Boss?”
Josiah raised both hands.
“She owns thirty-three percent.”
Gideon looked horrified.
“Thirty-three?”
Martha smiled.
“Build the door wider.”
He did.
By May, the new smokehouse stood.
Not beautiful.
Martha distrusted buildings designed primarily to impress.
But it worked.
Two curing rooms.
Separate cool storage.
Ventilation that could be adjusted from outside.
Broad work aisles.
A lowered table for tasks Martha preferred to do seated.
Pulley rails overhead.
A loading entrance wide enough for carts.
Floor drains sloped correctly.
And beside the main door, a scale.
Certified.
Martha touched it the first morning.
Josiah leaned nearby.
“You look happier about that scale than you did about our partnership.”
“The scale has never argued.”
“It also cannot kiss you.”
Martha turned slowly.
Billy was ten feet away carrying salt.
He nearly dropped the sack.
Gideon stopped hammering.
Every man within hearing suddenly became very quiet.
Martha looked back at Josiah.
“Was that your attempt at subtlety?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Then she returned to work.
Josiah remained frozen.
Billy whispered:
“Did she say yes?”
Gideon whispered back:
“No idea.”
Martha called without turning:
“I can hear both of you.”
Work resumed instantly.