The Price - Part 2

Happy 9th of December! Enjoy your next part of this story.

The Price

Part 2

    Mr. King rubbed his hands together, noticing for the first time that it was cold. “That’s going to take a lot of money, men.”

    “Yep.” Pickett nodded.

    And Travis echoed, “Yep.”

    “Got that much?”

    “Nope. Not yet.” Pickett didn’t sound worried or concerned and he kept his eyes on his horse.

    “I’d like to help you out,” Mr. King said, as though he was only a concerned neighbor. “I’ll buy that horse from you for one hundred dollars. Then you will–”

    Travis didn’t let him finish. “You what?”

    The horse stepped sideways at the suddenly raised voice.

    “I said I’ll buy your horse–”

    This time it was Rancher Pickett who interrupted. “No way!”

    “But–”

    “I suggest you turn around and start walkin’.” Mr. Pickett rested his hand on his six-shooter by his side, and nodded toward the road. His meaning was clear.

    In exact imitation of his boss, Travis put his hand on his own six-shooter. “Start walkin’.

    Mr. King stormed off the ranch. This day was not going the way he had planned. He didn’t notice the sunshine, or the clouds in the north that might bring snow before the week was over. The cold seemed colder, but his rapid strides kept him warm as he strode back toward town. He was disgusted at the petty sentimental feelings some people had for their animals.

    Once back in town with his temper cooled off somewhat, Mr. King spied the third thing on his Christmas list, and he went right to work to acquire it.

    There, sitting on a bench near the General Store sat Mr. Butler reading a newspaper while the silver chain of his new watch hung from his pocket. Mr. King could almost feel the weight of the silver watch in his own pocket right then.

    “Good afternoon, Mr. Butler,” Mr. King began. “Are you enjoying this fine day?”

    Mr. Butler lowered his paper and stared at the well dressed man before him. “Yep.”

    “Are your wife and children doing well?”

    “Yep.” Mr. Butler raised his paper to resume his reading.

    “Glad to hear it. Glad to hear it.” Mr. King glanced around but saw no one nearby though a few people were down the street. “Mr. Butler, I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

    Mr. Butler, never much with words, lowered his paper and waited in silence.

    “You see, my watch quit working and I can’t do without one. I need another before Christmas. I’d like to buy yours.”

    “Nope.” Mr. Butler lifted his paper.

    “I’ll pay you cash.” Mr. King pulled out the stack of bills he hadn’t been able to get Mr. Hill to take.

    “Nope.”

    “Then I’ll pay you in gold.” And he pulled out a bag and bounced it a little in his hand. “Real gold.”

    “Nope.”

    “Oh, I know you have a price! What do you want for it?”

    Silence.

    Mr. King tried again and again. He raised his price. He begged. He even threatened, but Mr. Butler continued to read his paper as though Mr. King didn’t exist.

    Finally the wealthy man had to accept defeat–for the time being anyway–and he stomped away toward the edge of town. His day had gone from bad to worse and his mood was sour.

    Mrs. Stirling was knitting and rocking in her favorite chair while her children made paper chains on the floor to decorate the tree they would get in a few days. The fire in the stove cast a warm, comforting glow, and the coffee pot sent forth an aroma as it warmed on top of the stove.

    Into the midst of the quiet afternoon came a loud knock. Startled, for visitors seldom came to the Stirling home that late unless there was trouble, Mrs. Stirling laid aside her knitting and rose to answer it.

    “Mr. King!” she exclaimed upon seeing that man standing before her door. “Won’t you come in out of the cold?”

    There was a scowl on Mr. King’s face as he stepped inside.

    “Would you like some coffee?”

    “No!” His voice was almost a shout, and young Sam hid behind his sister in fright. “I hold the mortgage of this house.” Mr. King glared

    Mrs. Stirling nodded, her hands clasped together.

    “Well, I’m foreclosing. You either pay off the rest of the money before Christmas or out you go.”

Let me know what you think of this so far.