“You want the verbatim?”
“Mainly, I want to know what she said.”
“Okay, well, it went something like this.”
Molly was having a good time now. The beer was doing its job. Or was it the hunky guy?
He started the story, “Hey, Bart, what do you want for the paint?”
Molly started laughing. “Okay, hold it right there. What’s your sister’s name?”
“Kitty.”
Molly burst into a fit of laughter, managing to gasp, “Your folks watched Gunsmoke too?”
Bart was chuckling, she guessed at her outburst. “So, do you want to hear the story?”
“No, I just have to know. Do you have any other brothers and sisters?”
“One more sister.”
“And, what’s her name?”
“Cheyenne.”
And, at that, Molly totally lost it. She almost fell out of her chair laughing.
He was chuckling, “Are you having a good time?”
“I just knew her name was going to be Cheyenne. Let me see: Brett, Bart, Kitty, and Cheyenne.” All prominent names from old TV westerns.
“Do you want to hear the story?”
“Just one more thing. Where is this conversation happening between you and Kitty?”
“At the family ranch in Montana where we grew up. We were standing at the corral looking at horses.”
“And Kitty wanted a paint that was apparently yours.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, the rest of the story please, as verbatim as you can remember it.”
Shadow was sitting patiently by her master but little whimpers were evidencing her impatience. She had a blue chip stud waiting and she was really in the mood. Molly patted her on the head to calm her down, but didn’t release her.
“Hey Bart, what do you want for the paint?”
“That paint is not for sale. And if she were, it’d be more than you can afford.”
“How about one of the new pups?”
“That paint is worth ten times one of those pups.”
“In your dreams.”
“So, what are you selling them for?”
“Between $1500 and $3,000.”
