“Very well. Give her my best,” Williams said.
“I will. And thank you again, sir.”
After Adams left, Williams walked over to his window to watch as the rancher climbed up into his buckboard, then drove away. Two thousand head at fifty cents a head, for which he would get thirty-five dollars a head. Yes, sir, this was going to work out just fine.
Chapter Five
As the two cowboys dismounted in front of a saddle store, one of them rubbed his behind.
“Damn, that’s the hardest, most uncomfortable saddle I ever sat in,” he said. “I’ll be glad to get mine back.”
Don’t know why you brung it in to get repaired anyway,” the other cowboy said as they tied off their horses at the hitching rail. “As far as I could see, there wasn’t that much wrong with it.”
“The fender was tore.”
“Well, hell, it don’t hurt nothin’ to have a tore fender. All a fender does is make a saddle look good. Don’t have nothin’ to do with the way it sits.”
“Maybe it don’t mean nothin’ to somebody like you. But I’m particular about my saddle. You can ask anyone and they’ll tell you that LeRoy Butrum is particular about his saddle.”
“Yeah, if you ask me, you’re old-maid particular,” the other cowboy said.
“And you don’t never care what yours is like. I swear, Hank, if I hadn’t been around when you was born, I wouldn’t even believe you was my brother.”
The two men stepped up onto the porch, then pushed the door open to go inside. The store smelled of leather, saddle soap, and neat’s-foot oil. There was one particularly handsome saddle on display.
“Lookie here,” LeRoy said, rubbing his hand over the saddle. “He’s got my saddle out here for the whole world to see.”
“Did he fix the fender?” Hank asked.
LeRoy put his hand on the piece of leather that was attached to the stirrup strap.
“Yep, here it is, as good as new,” he said.
The proprietor came up front then and, seeing the two cowboys standing by the saddle, nodded at them.
“Boys,” he said.
“Mr. Pogue,” Hank replied.
“Tell me, Mr. Pogue, why you got my saddle out front like this?” LeRoy asked. Then he smiled. “Prob’ly ’cause it’s the prettiest saddle in town, huh?”
“Not exactly,” Pogue said. “I had it out here to sell it.”
“To sell it?” LeRoy responded loudly. “What the hell do you mean you had it out here to sell it? Mister, this here ain’t your saddle to sell.”
“You said you would pick it up within a week,” Pogue replied. “It’s been a month.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t have the money then. But I’m here to pick it up now.”
“Good, that will make both of us happy,” Pogue said.
LeRoy gave Pogue a five-dollar bill. Pogue just stared at it for a moment.
“What is this for?” he asked.
“What do you mean, what is this for? This here is for the work you done on the saddle.”
“That will be twenty-five dollars,” Pogue said.
“What?” LeRoy and Hank shouted as one.
“The cost of the repair to your saddle is twenty-five dollars.”
“The hell you say!” LeRoy replied. “Mister, you can get a brand-new saddle for twenty-five dollars.”
“Not like this one.”
“Well, you didn’t make this one, and I already paid for it once. All you done was put on a new fender.”
“And I’m chargin’ you twenty-five dollars for that,” Pogue said.
“You can charge all you want, I ain’t payin’ it,” LeRoy said angrily. “Just take the damn thing off.”
“That’ll be ten dollars,” Pogue said.
“Ten dollars? What for? I told you to just take it off. I don’t want it,” LeRoy said.
“The ten dollars is for the aggravation,” Pogue said.
“I ain’t payin’ you no ten dollars for nothin’,” LeRoy said. He jerked the fancy leatherwork fender off the stirrup strap and tossed it toward Pogue. “There, I done the work for you. Come on, Hank, let’s go.”
LeRoy put the saddle up onto his shoulder and started toward the door.
