Workers.
Grandchildren.
One old goat descendant? Goats generations. Perhaps a pair of goats used for weed control moved near fence.
Henrietta laughed.
Emily asked:
“What?”
“Still goats.”
“Of course.”
A young ranch hand came up porch carrying papers.
He stopped when saw Henrietta.
“Sorry.”
“What?”
“I didn’t mean disturb.”
“Then why climb porch?”
He smiled nervously.
“Need Mrs. Carter’s signature.”
Emily stood.
Henrietta held out hand.
“Let me see.”
Emily laughed.
“Mama.”
“Habit.”
The young man gave.
Henrietta glanced.
Payroll adjustment.
Her eyes sharpened.
“What is this twelve-cent meal deduction?”
Emily groaned.
“Not again.”
The hand looked terrified.
Emily explained:
“Optional lunch program.”
“Employees signed.”
Henrietta looked at signature page.
Yes.
She handed back.
“Fine.”
The young man almost fled.
Henrietta called:
“Boy.”
He turned.
“Never let old founder scare you from asking why.”
He nodded.
Then disappeared.
Emily sat.
“You cannot retire.”
“I did.”
“No evidence.”
Henrietta smiled.
A few weeks later, she asked to see first published recipe book.
Emily brought.
Henrietta turned pages.
Her handwriting transformed into print.
Strange.
At goat chapter she stopped.
A note from editor:
This recipe is traditionally associated with the supper during which Caldwell-Lawson founders uncovered the first evidence of commissary fraud.
Henrietta snorted.
“Wrong.”
Emily looked.
“What?”
“We found invoices before supper.”
“Technically.”
“History matters.”
“You wrote correction thirty years ago.”
“Did they change?”
“No.”
“Idiots.”
Emily laughed.
Henrietta took pencil, wrote in margin:
Invoices found morning. Roast served evening. Never trust editor with chronology.
That annotated copy stayed family.
In April, Henrietta became mostly bedbound.
She hated phrase.
Bedbound sounded like person tied.
She was simply in bed more.
Window remained open on warm days.
One afternoon Clara sat reading Caleb journal aloud.
Henrietta stopped.
“Enough.”
Clara closed.
“Want something else?”
“Tell me about your work.”
Clara described legal case involving ranch woman disputing hidden lien.
Henrietta smiled.
“Again?”
“Always.”
“Does she have records?”
“Some.”
“Believe nothing until verify.”
Clara nodded.
“I know.”
Henrietta’s eyes narrowed.
“Do not say because family story.”
“Because law.”
“Good.”
Clara leaned.
“Grandmother, are you afraid of dying?”
Henrietta looked toward ceiling.
Long pause.