“I won’t trade you the truck for the horse, cowboy.” The owner of the car dealership’s voice was firm.
Rheumy eyes glared back. “The saddle alone is worth six-thousand dollars. That’s hand-hammered silver.”
“Don’t make me shoot ya, boy.” Lit cigarette between clenched teeth, the taller, leathered man leaned forward with deliberate intimidation.
Instead, the old man pushed him aside, jumped into the truck, and sped away.
The young man stared after him. “When you’ve got the Marlboro Man for a father, it’s one pain in the ass. And now I’ve got another damned horse.”
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