Gilbert, knowing he had very little chance to see him without a good reason to present, decided to start pleading his reason in a more manly boisterous manner. He found himself speaking an octave lower, trying to impress the man to take him seriously. “I heard the creamery is looking for horses to pull wagons.” The young man at the desk looked puzzled, “for deliveries around town.” He hoped anyone in the adjacent office would hear him.
“Young man, Mr. Barnhart would not be buying your little pony.”
Gilbert was confused, “I have no pony.”
“He is not interested in your horse, than.”
“It’s not my horse.”
Immediately the man behind the desk assumed Gilbert was up to something no good. “I see,” the man wanted to stall him so he could position himself to grab him. “Well, I should take a look at this beast.” The man rose and approached Gilbert.
Gilbert began to explain, “I don’t have the –” Suddenly he reached out and grab his arm roughly. Gilbert felt pain as if his skin was being peeled off his arm.
“Stealing horses are you. Trying to get Mr. Barnhart to give you some quick get- away money.” The man started to drag him out the door.
“I didn’t steal any horse, I just know of a horse for sale.”
A voice bellowed out stopping both Gilbert and the man from uttering any further words. “Mr. Grambie,” A man standing in the doorway to Mr. Barnhart’s office spoke, “what is going on?”
Gilbert looked at the man standing in the doorway. He was in his early twenties, medium height, a thin man with glistening hair combed back. His eyes were deep and penetrating. It appeared he couldn’t have facial hair even if he wanted to. He couldn’t remember the man’s name, but he recognized him as the one at the stable the day before. The man looked at Gilbert with a puzzled expression.
Mr. Grambie released Gilbert. A voice in the office, “Let’s see this man.”
“It’s not a man,” the man at the door said, “It’s a young boy.”
“Let’s see the young boy, then.”
The clerk Grambie walked behind the desk without saying a word. He avoided any eye contact with Gilbert. The man in the doorway gestured Gilbert into the office. Gilbert hesitated a moment, then quickly found confidence. He strode into the office, where a well-dressed man sat behind a dark mahogany desk. The man stood up and cordially shook Gilbert’s hand. Gilbert was impressed. The man gestured him to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. The other man leaned back against a book case to his left.
The man behind the desk said, “I am Mr. Barnhart and this is Mr. Williams.”
Overwhelmed by the situation, Gilbert took a few seconds before he realized he needed to introduce himself, “I’m Gilbert Fenny, and -—.” Gilbert lost his thoughts and struggled to fill the empty air. “It is a pleasure to meet you both.”
“The pleasure is mine, Master Fenny.” Responded Mr. Barnhart “So, what is it we can do for you?”
Gilbert stated, “There’s a horse that would be great pulling your wagons. If you are still looking for a horse.”
“We are still looking,” Mr. Barnhart confirmed.
“Good,” Gilbert responded cracking a weak smile.
“Well, tell us about your horse.”
“Yes sir, she is nine-years-old, average size, standard bred,” Gilbert hesitated to continue, hesitant to tell them Ginger needed rehabilitating. The two men nodded to Gilbert and he continued. “Ginger is a bit out of shape, but I can work with her on my own time to get her back into shape.”
The two men looked puzzled, “You work with her?” Mr. Williams asked.
“Yes, all I ask is that you supply the feed and water. I believe you can get her for just a few dollars.” He was relieved to have gotten his proposal out and began to feel more confident.
“We have our own care takers at the stables,” Mr. Williams told him.
“Well, Ginger needs some care and love. She is a good horse, that has not been exercised as she should have been.” He could see they weren’t receptive. “She’s a good strong horse.”
“That’s why we can get the horse cheap, because it’s worthless.” Mr. Williams stated.
Mr. Barnhart added, “What you’re saying is this horse needs special care?”
“Yes, sir,” Gilbert felt he was losing the battle. “You could buy this horse for forty dollars and the time someone needs to spend rehabilitating her will be my own.”
Mr. Williams studied Gilbert for a moment. Then he remembered where he had seen him. “Are you planning to keep the horse at your stable?”
“No sir,” Gilbert knew his father would insist to be paid.
Mr Barnhart asked, “How much time are you thinking it will take to get this horse ready to pull a wagon?”
He hadn’t thought about how long it may take, so he recklessly said with confidence, “I could have her ready in a month.”
Mr. Williams wanted to clarify the expectations of the horse they are looking for. “Strong enough to pull a milk wagon for four hours a day?”
“Yes,” he responded confidently.
“So our investment would be, forty dollars for the horse and the cost of feed for a month before we can see any return on our investment?” Mr. Williams asked.
Gilbert wasn’t sure what, ‘investment’, meant, but figured the statement was correct in general. “Yes, sir.”
“Where did you hear we needed a horse?” Mr. Barnhart asked.
“Mister Williams stopped in at my fathers stable yesterday.”
“Yes,” Mr. Williams started to nod his head slightly, “I remember you.” There was a slight pause, “Your father said you had no horses.”
“It isn’t our horse, it is a horse of a friend of mine.” Gilbert felt funny saying Clara was a friend of his.
Mr Williams asked, “You’re negotiating a deal for a horse you have no rights to?”
Gilbert was confused. Mr. Barnhart sensed his confusion, jumped in to clarify. “He means you know of a horse that is available to purchase and you are familiar with this horse? You are just bringing it to our attention?”
He thought this was a true statement. “Yes sir.”
Mr. Barnhart said, “It wouldn’t hurt to take a look at this horse, Charles.”
Mr Williams nodded, “Where can I find this horse?”
“The horse is owned by Mr. Groober. He lives on the southwest corner of Iowa and Spring St. The best time to call on them would be Friday morning.”
“Mr. Groober,” Mr. Barnhart said, “he was just prancing around town on his new black stallion yesterday.”
“Rome,” Gilbert threw out. The two men looked at him with puzzlement. “The stallion’s name is Rome.” The two men chuckled.
“So he has more horses now then he needs,” Mr. Williams said. “So let me get this straight. You are willing to work with this horse daily to get her back in shape, without compensation,” he looked at Gilbert questioningly, “why?”
Gilbert wasn’t sure what compensation meant. Mr. Barnhart must have realized this and clarified the question. “He means, what do you want for yourself? You certainly couldn’t be doing this because you want to. It will take a lot of your time and effort to care for this animal.”
“Well,” Gilbert didn’t know how to explain it because he didn’t completely understand himself. He wanted to keep Ginger from a terrible fate, but he also wanted to make Clara happy. “I hate to see an animal treated badly and my friend Clara would be heart broken if Ginger is taken away.”
The two gentlemen chuckled again. Gilbert would stick to his bargain before, but now he was more comfortable. Mr. Barnhart spoke out, “A woman’s influence. Are you happy now Mr. Williams? love is a powerful thing.”
“I guess so,” Mr. Williams said. Gilbert had no idea, what they meant by that, but it did
n’t matter as long as they were interested in buying Ginger.
“Well, Master Fenny,” Mr. Barnhart said, “If we purchase this animal, I will expect you to fulfill your word. You will care for this animal until she is ready to work.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied anxiously. “I’ll take care of her after that if you want.”
Mr. Barnhart held out his hand once again to seal the deal. “You are welcome to use all the feed, water, brushes, whatever you need in our stables to assist you.” Gilbert was ready to burst with excitement as Mr. Barnhart firmly shook his hand. He couldn’t stop his broad smile, but he was able to keep his composure of excitement down.
“If we purchase this animal,” added Mr. Williams.
“Of course, sir.”
“We’ll drop in on Friday morning. Will you let them know we are coming?”
“Of course, sir.” Gilbert was anxious to get out of there. His mind was rushing with thoughts and plans.
After Gilbert left the office Mr. Williams looked over to Mr. Barnhart. “If I were a betting man, I would bet you five dollars he doesn’t stick to his bargain.”
“Oh, I think he will.”
“He’s only got to be seven or eight-years old. He would rather be out playing ball or hanging around town, than caring for a broken down old horse.”
“Well, maybe so, but he spoke like a twenty-year- old. I don’t think the boy has ever had a child’s life to live.” Mr. Barnhart watched Gilbert outside the window jumping up and down. “If we get that horse, and you were a betting man, I would bet you a sawbuck.”
“I will send Jaworski to look at the horse. See if he wants it in his fleet.”
“You still have some of your father’s old sea terms in your vocabulary.”
He walked to the Groober’s home thinking deeply how he was going to secretly talk to Eva. He could just knock on the door, since she was a servant of the Groober household, she would most likely answer the door. As he past through downtown Independence he noticed Clara was with her girl friends at the ice cream shop. There was a group of boys on the street corner. The warm sunny day tormented Gilbert need to resist craving the ice cream he could not afford. His thoughts must have been obvious to the boys.
One of the boys spouted out, “Don’t even think it, stable boy.” The others all laughed. Gilbert looked quickly at the group of girls Clara was with. He convinced himself that Clara wasn’t laughing at him as hard as she normally would.
He felt strangely hurt to see Clara laugh at him. Something in his stomach just felt sick. When he arrived at the Groober’s he went to the north side door closer to the kitchen where Eva might be. There was no knocker on the door, so he used his knuckles to wrap the door. A few seconds later the door swung open and a small round faced Irish maid appeared in the door.
“Come in laddy.” Eva grabbed his arm yanking him in and yelled, “Mrs. Groober, ease ’ere.”
“Who,” a female voice from the next room responded.
“The young lad I told ya about.” A well dressed, refined lady, swept into the room. “Gilbert Fenny ma’am.”
“Master Fenny,” she smiled cordially.
“Ma’am,” Gilbert was embarrassed at his shabby appearance. He felt the urge to bow to the lady, but made a very slight awkward dip with his head. The ladies smiled with amusement.
“Eva says you may have a plan to save Clara’s Ginger.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gilbert told them the deal he had made and they should do all they can to sway Mr. Groober to sell Ginger to the creamery. The two ladies listened without questions.
Eva stated, “I will throw me-self down in front of the carriage, if I must.”
It was late Friday morning before Mr. Jaworski went to Mr. Groober’s home and presented himself at the main door on the east side of the house. Eva, who had trouble keeping her adrenaline in check, swung the door open. She was an unattached woman swooned by the good looking Mr. Jaworski.
In a monotone voice she asked, “May I ’elp ya’?”
“I’m Mister Jaworski from the creamery. I wonder if I may speak to Mr. Groober.”
“What is it ya’ wishin’ to see ’im about?”
Mr. Jaworski tentatively spoke, “I heard he may have a horse to sell.”
“What business do ya’ represent?” She asked.
He was surprised by the question having just answered it, “I am Mister Jaworski, I work at the creamery, here in town.”
Eva did not hesitate, “Come right in. Mr. Groober is not ’ere right now, but let me show ya’ the ’orse.”
“Thank you,” he entered the entry way, leading to a hallway on the left and an open stairway to the right. The stairs were ornamented with beautiful wood fret work, spindles and rails. Eva moved quickly through the hall towards the sitting room.
Mrs. Groober was in the sitting room holding knitting needles when Eva introduced the man. “Ma’am, ’ere’s the gentleman from the creamery to look at Ginger.”
The well dressed Mrs. Groober, jumped up out of her seat to followed the fast-moving Eva and lagging behind Mr. Jaworski. Her long deep red hair was tied up in a tight bun hidden under a dainty light blue hat. She looked at the grandfather clock in the parlor as they passed. She noticed it nearing the time Mr. Groober normally came home for lunch.
Mrs. Groober slipped past Mr. Jaworski, who politely stepped aside, “We haven’t much time.” She told Eva quietly.
“We’d make it if ’e’d quit draggin’ ’is feet.” Eva said, hinting to Mr. Jaworski, who was trying to be a gentleman by not rushing the women. He stepped up his pace.
“What is his name Eva?” Mrs. Groober asked.
“I don’t know,” Eva said.
“Well, did he introduce himself?”
Eva burst open the back door leading the man toward the stable. “I don’t know.” Eva said. “e’ may ’ave.”
“Well, that isn’t very gentlemanly, is it?” Mrs. Groober asked.
Eva shot back a quick glance at Mr. Jaworski, “No, it aint, ma’am.”
“Jaworski, Ma’ams.” He blurted out quickly to match the pace of the women’s steps and conversation. “I do apologize if I didn’t introduce myself.” He was sure he had, but in the rush of things he wasn’t so sure.
“Bout time,” Eva said sternly back at him. “Well, Mr. Jaworski is it? Ginger ‘as the finest disposition for a horse I ’ave ever seen. Wouldn’t you agree, mum?”
“Yes, Ginger has been a peach.” They moved quickly to the barn, then stopped next to Ginger. They both anxiously gestured for him to look her over.
Eva broke in before he could make any true assessment. “She’s a bit overweight, because she doesn’t get much exercise. We just don’t ’ave the time to exercise ’er and we don’t ’ave a need for ’er.”
“But,” Mrs. Groober chimed in quickly as Mr. Jaworski looked at Ginger’s teeth, “we want her to have a good home here in town. Where she can be happy and I won’t miss her so much. She has been in our family for so many years.” Mrs. Groober tried to produce fake tears from her eyes. Eva looked at her, bewildered by the statement. “She was my mother’s favorite horse before she died.”
Mr. Jaworski wasn’t paying attention to them. “That boy was right. This horse is what we are looking for and a fine price for forty dollars.” The two ladies, eyes opened broadly at the forty dollars. They knew Mr. Groober would certainly not sell her at that price. Just then they could hear the big clock in the parlor start to chime, letting them know it was noon. Mr. Groober was very prompt at returning home for lunch. Their plan would be ruined if Mr. Groober and Mr. Jaworski were to meet at this time.
Mr. Groober had planned to stay home after lunch to wait for the man expected to purchase Ginger. The ladies knew he would not sell Ginger to anyone other than the gentleman he was planning to deal with.
“When were you expecting Mr. Groober to return?”
“Not until this evening,” Mrs. Groober lied. The two ladies took Mr. Jaworski by the arm and gently tugged him out of the barn. “Eva would be happy to escort you back to your carriage. Please come back this evening. I am sure a deal can be made. I bet you can even get Francis to come down on the price.”
“Really,” Mr. Jaworski said.
Eva quick-stepped him through the back yard and to his carriage. She got around to the front of the house and noticed there was no carriage. Eva looked around diligently and was halfway between the house and the dirt street when she realized there wasn’t a carriage to be seen. “Where is your carriage?” She continued to look for it.
“I walked,” he politely pulled his arm from her grasp.
“I guess ya’ do need a ’orse don’t ya’.” Eva tried to salvage the situation, “come back this evenin’ and I’ll ’ave a big surprise for ya’.” He looked back at her with the utmost look of horror on his face. As she returned to the house she muttered to herself, “I wonder if we come on a bit strong for ’im.”
She had a brief moment of panic when she saw Mr. Groober riding Rome toward the house and rode past Mr. Jaworski. They exchanged polite nods of acknowledgment in passing. But Mr. Jaworski turned, stopped and watched Mr. Groober as he approached his home. Eva was relieved when Mr. Jaworski resumed walking away.
Mr. Groober took Rome to the stable, removed his saddle and blanket. He rubbed the colt down briefly before going into the house.
Earlier that morning Clara had been out in the barn rubbing down Ginger and walking her around the small corral. Now she was up in her room sulking before coming down to talk to her mother. “Mother,” she addressed her as she and Eva frantically got dinner on the table. “I saw you with that gentleman in the barn. Is he buying Ginger?”
Without a thought to explain to Clara what was going on, she answered happily, “We hope so, honey.”
Knives speared her heart hearing she was so anxious to sell Ginger. “Great, you’re all trying to get rid of her!” She yelled as her father entered the back door. Clara looked at him with disgust and stormed out of the kitchen through the back door, slamming it behind her. She went for a walk to reflect and clear her mind. When she reached main street she joined several of her friends in front of Mr. Purdy’s general store. They had handfuls of licorice purchased from Mr. Purdy. They shared some licorice with her. Gilbert came out of Mr. Purdy’s store with a small package in his hands.
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