Harlan came from the barn.
“What does he want?”
“I don’t know.”
“You want me here?”
Josephine thought.
“Yes.”
“Beside you or inside?”
The question itself made her smile faintly.
“Beside me.”
Harlan stood half a pace behind her.
Not in front.
Edwin approached.
His coat was worn.
His boots muddy.
For the first time Josephine could remember, her father looked uncertain before speaking to her.
“Josephine.”
“Father.”
Edwin glanced at Harlan.
“I came to talk privately.”
Josephine shook her head.
“No.”
“I’m your father.”
“Yes.”
“It concerns family.”
“Harlan is my family.”
Edwin flinched.
Josephine noticed.
He pulled off his hat.
“I made mistakes.”
She waited.
“I was desperate.”
Still she waited.
“The mining company offered enough to clear my debts.”
“My land.”
“You were my daughter.”
“Those statements do not connect.”
His jaw tightened.
The old Edwin appeared briefly.
Then disappeared.
“I thought you would be provided for.”
“By a man you barely knew.”
“I knew he had property.”
“You told him I would be obedient if ashamed enough.”
Edwin looked at Harlan.
Harlan’s face remained unreadable.
Josephine continued.
“Did you say it?”
Her father looked down.
“Yes.”
Pain still came.
But differently.
Like touching an old scar rather than reopening a wound.
Josephine nodded.
“Thank you.”
He looked confused.
“For what?”
“For admitting it.”
Edwin swallowed.
“I need money.”
There it was.
Josephine almost laughed.
Not apology.
Need.
Always need.
“How much?”
Harlan looked at her, but said nothing.
Edwin’s eyes brightened.
“Five hundred dollars.”
Josephine stared.
“Why?”
“Debt.”
“Gambling?”
Silence.
Josephine knew.
“You gambled after losing the house.”
“I thought I could recover—”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“You have thousands coming from that lease.”
“Yes.”
“And you would let your father starve?”
Josephine remembered the phrase.
Ungrateful.
Different clothes.
Same weapon.
“You are not starving.”
“I may lose everything.”
“You already tried to sell everything that belonged to me.”
Edwin looked toward Harlan.
“So this is him talking.”
Harlan’s jaw moved.
Josephine placed a hand lightly against his forearm without looking.
He stayed silent.
“No,” Josephine said. “This is the part you never learned.”
“What?”
“I have always been able to speak.”
Edwin stared.
“You simply trained me to believe I shouldn’t.”
He put on his hat.
“You’ll regret this.”
Josephine felt surprisingly calm.