She had brought two dollars.
He named a price nearly double his posted rate from the previous week.
The homesteader stared.
“You raised salt?”
“Freight costs.”
“Since Tuesday?”
“Markets change.”
She looked toward the price board.
No salt price listed.
Convenient.
“How much for ten pounds?”
He named another absurd amount.
His son leaned against a shelf.
“Maybe your cheese empire can afford it.”
The homesteader looked at him.
Then at his father.
“You don't want me making cheese.”
The merchant smiled.
“I sell salt.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“It was the only answer you’re buying.”
She turned.
The merchant called after her.
“Your debt still comes due in ten days.”
She left.
Across the road, the blacksmith sold no salt.
The apothecary had medicinal quantities at ridiculous cost.
The hotel had its own supply but would not sell enough.
She rode toward the creamery.
The creamery owner listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he looked at the shelves.
“I’ve got curing salt.”
“How much?”
“Not enough.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen pounds.”
“I’ll buy it.”
“No.”
She frowned.
“You’ll trade.”
“For what?”
“Take my sour skim.”
“How much?”
“As much as I can’t use.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
“You normally feed it to hogs.”
“Some.”
“Why give it to me?”
“Because hogs don’t pay.”
She smiled.
“What do you want?”
“Three cents for every pound of cheese you produce from my milk.”
The homesteader laughed.
“What?”
“You heard.”
“You’re charging for waste.”
“I’m providing raw material.”
“You were going to feed it to hogs.”
“Hogs are reliable customers.”
She crossed her arms.
“Two cents.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“Two and a half.”
“Salt included?”
He grinned.
“Fifteen pounds.”
“And future salt you can get?”
“Within reason.”
“Two cents.”
“Two and a half.”
She stared.
He stared back.
The wagon driver, standing nearby, whispered:
“You two are exhausting.”
Both ignored him.
Finally the creamery owner said:
“Two and a quarter.”
The homesteader extended her hand.
“Done.”
A new supply line existed.
Not enough to guarantee success.
Enough to continue.
By evening, another forty gallons of sour skim sat in her yard.
The creamery owner had held it carefully.
Not spoiled.
Cultured naturally from time and heat.
The homesteader adjusted her grandmother’s method.
Added a small quantity of fresh whole milk to improve fat.
Warmed more slowly.
Changed press weight.