Chapter Three

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Chapter Three

The Blessing of True Friends


Every Sunday night, Gus Anderson and his adopted son, Owen, joined the Anderson family at Ruth's house for supper. Gus hired the Schmidt boys to tend the livery on Sunday evenings. They were fine young men, and he trusted Johan and Jacob to take care of the stable.

When they pulled up to Ruth's house on the buckboard, John was waiting out front. He instructed Gus to pull the wagon up to the front door. The three of them loaded the old sewing machine into the wagon and secured it tight for its journey. Gus drove John over to the shop, with Owen riding in the back of the buckboard.

The sewing machine was placed by the front window on the left side. Gus looked around at the old cafe filled with furniture, crates, and work orders.

"It didn't take you long to fill this place."

The extra merchandise took the room in the building up.

"Are these ALL-repair orders?" asked Gus as he looked at the slips of paper lying on each item.

"They sure are."

"You've got your work cut out for you. But you did it, John. You opened up a shop despite everything."

Then Gus made a statement that resonated with John's heart.

"Your parents would be proud of you, John. I know I am."

For the second time that day, John's eyes filled with tears of joy and gratitude.

"Thanks, Gus," said John through blurry eyes. "I appreciate it."

"Hey, John. How about putting this hat on Gus's account?" asked Owen.

Two men looked at Owen wearing a white cowboy hat.

"It's even got a royal blue ribbon on the brim. And blue is my favorite color."

John laughed at his antics, and Gus saw his boy growing into a young man. The hat made him look older, and Gus had a weakness for hats.

"Did you get any Black Stetson hats in your order?" asked Gus.

"I might have. What size?" asked John.

"Seven and three-quarters."

"Try this one on."

John handed Gus a black cowboy hat. He looked around for a mirror and recognized the mirror from Ruth's upstairs hallway.

"That doesn't look too bad."

"How does it fit?"

"Fits fine."

He took out his billfold to pay for the two hats.

"Wait a minute," said John, holding his hands up in protest. "Instead of paying me with money, credit my account for buckboard rent as a trade for the hats."

"Deal," said Gus as they shook hands.

"Come on, guys," said Owen. "We're going to be late for supper."

* * *

By Sunday evening, Cooper felt like a cage bear with a thorn in his paw. He paced that jail cell, ready to beat the hell out of anyone that crossed him.

The saloon owner was broke, not a dime to his name. Cooper had lost all his cash in the poker game Saturday night, throwing the last of the change from his pockets on the floor. He grabbed a bottle and drank away his losses.

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