“Stop!” Pogue called at them. “You’re stealing that saddle.”
“You can’t steal what’s already yours,” LeRoy said without looking back toward Pogue.
Fortunately, Hank was looking toward Pogue, because he saw the saddle-shop proprietor hurry toward the counter and reach for a shotgun. Quickly, Hank’s pistol was in his hand, pointing toward Pogue.
“Don’t you try nothin’ dumb now, Mr. Pogue,” Hank cautioned.
“You are stealing that saddle.”
“We ain’t stealin’ it,” LeRoy said. “Soon’s I get ten dollars, I’ll come back and pay you, even though I don’t think I ought to have to.”
“Help! Someone, help!” Pogue started shouting. “I’m being robbed!”
LeRoy put the saddle down while he started removing the old saddle from the horse he had ridden.
“Help! Sheriff! Help!” Pogue continued to shout.
“Will you shut up?” Hank yelled at Pogue.
Both men were stopped then by the sound of a pistol being cocked. Turning, they saw one of the deputies standing out in the road, pointing his gun at them.
“What’s going on here?” the deputy asked.
“Thank God someone answered my call,” Pogue said. He pointed at the Butrum brothers. “These men are stealing this saddle.”
“I ain’t stealin’ it,” LeRoy said. “This here saddle belongs to me.”
“You brought it in for repair, and you did not pay for the repair,” Pogue said. “According to the law, until you pay for the repair, the saddle belongs to me.”
“I undid the repair,” LeRoy said.
“That doesn’t matter. I already did the work.”
“I think you two boys better come with me,” the deputy said.
“Come on, Deputy, this here is just a misunderstand-in’, that’s all,” LeRoy said. He reached for his saddle.
“No, leave the saddle and come with me. Both of you.”
Pogue waited until the deputy had them halfway to the jail before he stepped outside to retrieve the saddle.
“Will you lookie there?” LeRoy muttered. “That son of a bitch got my saddle.”
“It isn’t your saddle until you have satisfied the debt owed against it,” the deputy said.
Neither Sally, Pearlie, nor Cal were aware of the drama that had just played out at the saddle shop when they rolled into town later that morning. Big Rock was a busy place with two trains at the depot, one passenger and one freight. The passenger train was taking on passengers for its run to the east, and even though the engineer was at rest, the fireman wasn’t. He was working hard, stoking the fire to keep the steam pressure up.
In contrast to the fireman’s toil, the engineer was leaning out the window of the highly polished green and brass locomotive, smoking a curved-stem pipe as he watched the activity on the depot platform. He was serene in the power and prestige of his position.
Passenger trains were called “varnish” by railroad people because, unlike the roughly painted freight cars, the passenger cars were generally beautifully finished. The conductor stood beside the string of varnished cars, keeping a close check of the time. The freight train was sitting over on the sidetrack, its hissing relief valve opening and closing as the steam pressure was maintained. The “varnish” had priority over the main line, and not until it departed would the freight be allowed to move back onto the high iron in order to continue its travel west.
Two stagecoaches and half-a-dozen carriages were also sitting at the depot, either having just delivered or waiting for train passengers. Out in the street behind the depot, a horse-drawn streetcar rumbled by.
This was what greeted Sally, Pearlie, and Cal as the three came into town to buy supplies. Sally was driving a large wagon and Pearlie and Cal were mounted, but riding slowly to keep pace with the wagon.
“Whoo-ee, this sure is a busy place this morning,” Cal said as he saw three loaded freight wagons rumbling by.
“It always gets busy when a train is here,” Sally said.
“Miz Sally, you know what we ought to do?” Pearlie asked. “We ought to make arrangements with the railroad to carry the cattle up to Sorento. That way we wouldn’t have to drive ’em none.”
“My goodness, Pearlie, do you have any idea how many cars it would take to move three thousand cattle?” Sally asked.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, if you could get thirty cows to a car, it would take a hundred cars,” Sally said. “That would be at least five trains. And because there is no track direct from here to Sorento, the trains would have to go almost a thousand miles to get there. That means it would take nearly as long to ship them up by train as it would to drive them…and the shipping cost would eat up about a quarter of the gross.”
“How’d you come up with all that?” Pearlie asked. “You’re awfully smart to figure all that out.”
Cal laughed. “Maybe if you would think about something other than eatin’ all the time, you would be able to come up with things like that too.”
“What are you talkin’ about?” Pearlie replied. “You didn’t know none of that stuff neither.”
“Yes, I did.”
