ya git him?”
“Denver. I traveled from New York to Denver by train, so I needed a rig. The first thing I bought was a horse. Most of my other gear I bought at auction.”
“You’re a good judge of horseflesh.”
“Well, I actually know only eastern riding horses, so I hired a wrangler to help me pick out a good horse for western terrain.”
“Really … and how’d ya pick your wrangler?”
“That’s an odd question.”
“Not if ya know Denver. The town’s full of hucksters ready to skin some newcomer with more money than sense.”
“Well, I watched the horse trading for a couple days to see who bought and at what price. I also wanted to see who would back off and let another buyer take an animal that had outrun its value. After I spotted a savvy buyer, I approached him and asked for his help.”
“How much?”
“We agreed on a ten-percent commission.”
“He picked the horse on his own?”
“You mean, did he pick the seller?” I had figured out where his questions were leading. “No, I’d heard about buyers and sellers in cahoots. I asked a lot of questions about the animal and the breeder before I authorized haggling.”
“Ya did right well by yourself. Chestnut’s a fine horse for rough country.”
This pleased me more than it should have, because I already knew Chestnut was an exceptional animal; but praise from someone as seasoned as Sam made me feel good.
Just when I thought Sam had relapsed into silence, he asked, “Your saddle doesn’t look new.”
Now I laughed. “I thought if I bought used gear, I might not look like a greenhorn.”
“Guessed as much.” Sam adjusted his seat. “’Twern’t to save money.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You make decisions like a rich man … ’Sides, six Pinkertons don’t come cheap.” Sam leaned forward and patted Chestnut’s neck. After he resettled in his saddle, he asked, “Why’d ya leave the big city?”
“Family matter.”
Sam looked intrigued. “What kind of family matter?”
“A private family matter.”
“Sorry.” He tipped his hat in my direction. “Didn’t mean to pry; it’s just that a family quarrel drove me outta Missouri.”
“Really?” I couldn’t help but ask, “What kind of family quarrel?”
“Well now, perhaps mine’s private as well.”
I chuckled at the expected answer and tipped my own hat. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”
“Actually, not private at all. Kinda spread all over the country, for that matter.” Sam’s expression took on a melancholy hue. “Bad times back home. Despicable Yankees versus true patriots. At least, that’s the way my family saw it. Since my sympathies fell with the Union, I became despicable.” He sighed. “Almost twenty years ago.” He rode a few strides before adding, “Haven’t been home since … Miss it terrible at times.”
That gave me pause. I intended to stay away for a good while, but in the back of my mind, I had thought I would eventually return home. Before I knew it, I found myself saying things out loud that I seldom even said to myself.
“When my father died, his older brother took me under his wing. My uncle showed me how to make money … New York style. After a while, I learned why my father had kept his distance from him and the rest of the family’s affairs. I was young and naive, but eventually I got tired of his sleazy way of doing business and told him I no longer wanted his help. Made him madder than hell. He secretly got on the other side of a deal of mine so he could teach me a lesson, but I won, and he lost a pile of money … family money.”
“So ya left?”
“Not right away. But the whole family turned on me, so when I saw they weren’t going to forget about it, I sold everything and said goodbye to the big city.”
“So you became despicable too.”
“Guess we got that in common.”
Sam rode awhile before saying, “No offense, but that story kinda backs what my father
“Denver. I traveled from New York to Denver by train, so I needed a rig. The first thing I bought was a horse. Most of my other gear I bought at auction.”
“You’re a good judge of horseflesh.”
“Well, I actually know only eastern riding horses, so I hired a wrangler to help me pick out a good horse for western terrain.”
“Really … and how’d ya pick your wrangler?”
“That’s an odd question.”
“Not if ya know Denver. The town’s full of hucksters ready to skin some newcomer with more money than sense.”
“Well, I watched the horse trading for a couple days to see who bought and at what price. I also wanted to see who would back off and let another buyer take an animal that had outrun its value. After I spotted a savvy buyer, I approached him and asked for his help.”
“How much?”
“We agreed on a ten-percent commission.”
“He picked the horse on his own?”
“You mean, did he pick the seller?” I had figured out where his questions were leading. “No, I’d heard about buyers and sellers in cahoots. I asked a lot of questions about the animal and the breeder before I authorized haggling.”
“Ya did right well by yourself. Chestnut’s a fine horse for rough country.”
This pleased me more than it should have, because I already knew Chestnut was an exceptional animal; but praise from someone as seasoned as Sam made me feel good.
Just when I thought Sam had relapsed into silence, he asked, “Your saddle doesn’t look new.”
Now I laughed. “I thought if I bought used gear, I might not look like a greenhorn.”
“Guessed as much.” Sam adjusted his seat. “’Twern’t to save money.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You make decisions like a rich man … ’Sides, six Pinkertons don’t come cheap.” Sam leaned forward and patted Chestnut’s neck. After he resettled in his saddle, he asked, “Why’d ya leave the big city?”
“Family matter.”
Sam looked intrigued. “What kind of family matter?”
“A private family matter.”
“Sorry.” He tipped his hat in my direction. “Didn’t mean to pry; it’s just that a family quarrel drove me outta Missouri.”
“Really?” I couldn’t help but ask, “What kind of family quarrel?”
“Well now, perhaps mine’s private as well.”
I chuckled at the expected answer and tipped my own hat. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”
“Actually, not private at all. Kinda spread all over the country, for that matter.” Sam’s expression took on a melancholy hue. “Bad times back home. Despicable Yankees versus true patriots. At least, that’s the way my family saw it. Since my sympathies fell with the Union, I became despicable.” He sighed. “Almost twenty years ago.” He rode a few strides before adding, “Haven’t been home since … Miss it terrible at times.”
That gave me pause. I intended to stay away for a good while, but in the back of my mind, I had thought I would eventually return home. Before I knew it, I found myself saying things out loud that I seldom even said to myself.
“When my father died, his older brother took me under his wing. My uncle showed me how to make money … New York style. After a while, I learned why my father had kept his distance from him and the rest of the family’s affairs. I was young and naive, but eventually I got tired of his sleazy way of doing business and told him I no longer wanted his help. Made him madder than hell. He secretly got on the other side of a deal of mine so he could teach me a lesson, but I won, and he lost a pile of money … family money.”
“So ya left?”
“Not right away. But the whole family turned on me, so when I saw they weren’t going to forget about it, I sold everything and said goodbye to the big city.”
“So you became despicable too.”
“Guess we got that in common.”
Sam rode awhile before saying, “No offense, but that story kinda backs what my father
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