Chapter 8

The Art of Horse Selling

Monday evening was a quiet affair. Joe and Hoss were at their usual game of checkers and Ben and Adam were enjoying their habitual evening read with a glass of brandy. Just like barely a week ago, the comfortable silence was suddenly cut off by Adam, who, in anticipation of another J. Heatherstone article, had given the Territorial Enterprise preference over any other reading matter. Obviously he had not been disappointed.

“You just have to hear this. This is…well, Juliet as she breathes and lives.”

He had the family’s attention immediately. Joe and Hoss paused in their game and Ben said, “Well, read it out, son, read it out! Let’s hear what the lady’s ‘most wonderful inspiration’ turns out to be.”

“Oh, yeah, she was inspired, indeed. Just listen to this: ‘The Art of Horse Selling,’ by J. Heatherstone.
Since the sorry state of public roads and the harsh country itself is rendering it nearly impossible to travel by carriage most of the time, it is obvious to anyone who opposes to be confined to their native soil that this fact strongly necessitates a simplification of their traveling standards. In other words: If you want to go somewhere, get yourself a horse. Now I find there are certain rules you should follow if you buy or sell a horse, the most important of which are the following:
1. Seller, make your horses look good. Wipe them, brush them, present them at their best. Do not show beautiful horses you are not prepared to sell. Just don’t. They could raise desires you can’t fulfill.
2. Buyer, make yourself look indigent. You can afford a horse, but you are not prepared to spend a fortune. Wear modest clothes. Avoid jewelry and ermine.
3. Seller, try to find out what your customer wants. Or needs. But most importantly, what they want. Somebody must do whatever makes somebody happy.
4. Buyer, be explicit with your wishes. You know what you want. Make sure they know, too. Don’t take a ‘no’.
5. Seller, feeding your customer makes him easier on you. Make sure the food is good. A good glass of something might do the trick, too. Or two or three.
6. Buyer, take whatever your dealer offers you. Even if you don’t buy a horse, you at least had a decent meal. If the wine is good, drink it. But not the whole bottle.
7. Seller, when you name a price, be stern and self confident. Start with doubling what you are intending to get. Maybe you’ll be lucky.
8. Buyer, pay what you must. But not a cent more. Other dealers have nice horses, too.
9. A good deal satisfies both seller and buyer. And yes, this is possible. Believe me, it is.
And last but not least: 10. If you think you’ve made a good deal—don’t look too smug. Your opponent might feel the need to wipe your smirk away with his own.”

The last words Adam read out were barely understandable because he could no longer restrain himself from snickering. His family joined him in the laughter.

“That’s you, Adam,” Joe sniggered. “That’s you she’s talking about! Just how much brandy did you feed her?” He snorted with laughter.

“Don’t take a no,” Hoss cackled. “That do sound jest like her.”

“Yeah, the Queen sure doesn’t take no as an answer!” Joe performed his trademark hyena laugh and got up to parade through the living room in a not very flattering imitation of Juliet Heatherstone’s upright posture. “I know what I want,” he declaimed in a crude attempt at an English accent. “And I want it here and now! Surrender to the Queen’s demands!” He fell back into his chair dissolving into even more giggles.

“Joseph,” Ben scolded. “I told you to treat Miss Heatherstone with respect. The townsfolk may be rude enough to give her foolish titles but I don’t want to hear you calling her names!”

Hoss, ever the peacemaker, put in, “Pa, Joe was jest makin’ fun. And ya havta admit she sure is imperious like real royalty. It ain’t no wonder people call her Queen of England.”

“Well, I can’t see why they would,” Adam said folding his arms over his chest. “The Queen of England is a very diminutive matron in her forties with a herd of children and absolutely no sense of humour, whereas Juliet is rather tall, handsome, young, single, smart and very funny. The most entertaining author I have read for quite some time.” He stretched his legs. “And, I don’t think this article is about me in person.”

“Adam, she’s funny alright. But she’s quite imposing, too. And the article is about you. You looked very smug after that deal,” Joe retorted.

“Son, I have to admit, Joe has a point here,” Ben chuckled. “You did have a smug look when you two came out of the house.”

Adam shot him an annoyed glare. “Anyway, be it as it may, this is another well written gem and I’m looking forward to read more of this in the future. Now would you all please go back to what ever was occupying you before and leave me in peace.”

Ben changed a brief conspiratorial smile with his younger sons. “As you wish, son, as you wish.” He picked up his book and concentrated on his read afresh. He had a hard time suppressing a grin. With a last glimpse at their older brother and a barely concealed snigger, Joe and Hoss returned to their abandoned game.

While Hoss and Joe fought battle after battle on the checker board, Adam silently sat in his favourite chair, sipping his brandy and running through the rest of the Territorial Enterprise to discover more of Juliet’s dry-witted writing. Finally he returned to Juliet’s article on ‘The Art of Horse Selling’ one more time and read the last few lines again. He loved her style. She had a unique way of saying a great deal with few words. Her quirky approach on the heavier facts of life matched his own in a way he had never experienced before. As he himself, she observed the finer details of things, finding amusement in bizarre neglibilities. She had a knack for getting right at the crux of matters and courage enough to tell uncomfortable truths. Adam admired the way she was able to serve said uncomfortable truths like a layer cake: the sour facts smoothed over with whipped humour. Never had he seen verity lain in a finer bed of crème.

Adam was looking forward to seeing more of her extraordinary writing. He was looking forward to seeing more of her as well. He would supply the horse tomorrow and take Juliet out for lunch and a little chat on that occasion. Their sales talk had been very pleasant. Juliet had been his equal in every way, a skilful negotiator, sharp witted and with a ready tongue.  She appeared to be well educated, worldly and perceptive. And it didn’t hurt that she had the most intriguing eyes Adam had ever seen. Dark green shaded with grey, they reminded him strongly of the Atlantic Sea during a thunder storm—an image that had been etched on Adam’s memory when he had seen a reproduction of Brueghel’s ‘Storm at Sea with Shipwreck’ at an exhibition in San Francisco. He had empathized with the poor seamen back then, but at the same time he had been mesmerized by the murky, yet powerful and strikingly green ocean and, despite the exposed danger, had felt driven to it. Juliet’s eyes resembled not only the colour of the sea—the power and the danger were in them, too. Well hidden under the expressive green, but definitely there. It kept her face from definite beauty—but also from being ordinary.

Juliet had demonstrated what Hoss called a ‘bossy boot,’ too, but Adam preferred to refer to that as a ‘strong mind’. In spite of his earlier words he could easily see why the residents of Virginia City named her The Queen of England, though. She had a tendency to be a bit, well, presumptuous—imperious even—but Adam was inclined to be forgiving about that in favour of another inspiring conversation with the stormy-eyed lady. Shaking his head and chuckling to himself he rose from his chair, folded the newspaper in half and laid it on the coffee table. His eyes made a quick survey of his family. They apparently had heard him getting up and now looked at him expectantly. As if he were to give them a final statement of general state of affairs of the Ponderosa, of life at large and of the world as a whole, Adam thought wryly. Maybe he should give them something, something to muse about and keep them busy. His eyes fell on the newspaper. He snorted. Well, why not? He tilted his head just a little bit and gave them one of his half-smiles that always indicated there was more going on behind his brow than he would let them see or hear, then raised his eyebrow in an unconscious imitation of Juliet Heatherstone, and announced loudly and clearly, “Well, it looks as if I just fell in love.”

With that he turned to the stairs and calmly made his way into his room where he crumbled onto his bed, convulsing with suppressed laughter. His family watched his departure in stunned silence.