Chapter 3

The following morning, the sun had barely crested the horizon when Carter knocked on Will’s door. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” he called out, his voice filled with excitement. “We’ve got horses to buy!”

Will groaned and sat up, his body sticky with the remnants of their night together. He threw on some clothes and stumbled out to the kitchen, where his friend was already dressed and waiting, a pot of coffee brewing on the stove. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air, a stark contrast to the musky scent that still clung to him from his encounter with their mother.

Mrs. McMillan was nowhere to be seen, but the evidence of her presence remained, in the form of the money they had earned from the fight, neatly stacked on the kitchen table. The bills looked like a treasure trove, a symbol of the new opportunities that lay before them.

Will and Carter set out early, the crisp morning air a stark contrast to the sultry night before. They walk the dusty trail to Mr. Melvin ‘Whiplash’ Burns’ ranch, the sun rising behind them like a fiery phoenix, casting long shadows across the land. The ranch was on the outskirts of town, a sprawling affair with a reputation for breeding the finest horses in the region.

As they approached the corral, they could see the majestic animals in various states of rest and play. The sound of hooves on dirt and the occasional whinny filled the air, mingling with the distant cluck of chickens and the lowing of cattle. The smell of horse manure and fresh hay was strong, a scent that spoke of hard work and a simpler life.

Mr. Burns, a grizzled man with a greasy mustache and a penchant for spitting tobacco, greeted them with a nod. “Lookin’ to buy some horses, are ya?” His eyes narrowed as he took in the wad of cash in Will’s hand. “You boys hit the jackpot?”

“Ma’s been savin’ up,” Will said, trying to keep his voice steady. He didn’t want to give anything away, not even to someone he had known his whole life. The less people knew about their secret, the better.

Mr. Burns’ eyes lit up at the sight of the cash. “Well, I’ve got just the thing for ya,” he said, his grin spreading wide. He led them to the far end of the corral, where two white mustangs, pure and unblemished, stood side by side. They were a stark contrast to the other horses, their coats gleaming like fresh snow under the early morning sun.

“These here are the finest horses I’ve got,” Mr. Burns announced proudly. “Mustangs, straight from the forest. They’re tough as nails, those two. They can handle any kind of trip you throw at ‘em. Indians ride ‘em for weeks without rest, crossin’ mountains and rivers. They’re fast, smart, and more reliable than any horse I’ve ever seen.”

Will’s heart raced as he took in the beauty of the animals. The thought of their mother’s sacrifice the previous night made the purchase feel like a rebirth for their family. He could almost see her standing in the barn, the dust from the fight still clinging to her skin as she held the future of their farm in her hands. “We’ll take ‘em,” he said firmly, slapping the money down on the fence.

Mr. Burns’ eyes grew wide at the sight of the cash. “Now, hold your horses,” he said, a greedy glint in his eye. “We’ve gotta talk price.”

Will looked him square in the eye. “We’re willing to pay top dollar, Mr. Burns,” he said, his voice firm. “Ma’s been savin’ for a long time. We need two good horses to get the farm back on its feet.”

Mr. Burns’ expression shifted, a crafty look crossing his face. He knew when he had a desperate customer, and he wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass him by. “Well, now,” he drawled, stroking his mustache, “those two are worth a pretty penny, but I reckon for good ol’ friends like you, I could let ‘em go for ... say, one hundred apiece with the finest horse saddles?”

Will’s heart sank. They had hoped to buy two horses, but Mrs. McMillan’s condition the night before had cost them more than they had anticipated. “We can pay fifty each,” he countered, knowing it was a long shot but trying to keep their dreams afloat.

Mr. Burns’ smile faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. “Now, Will, you know I can’t let these go for that price. They’re worth at least seventy-five a piece.” He leaned in, his breath reeking of tobacco. “But for you, I’ll make it sixty.”

Will and Carter exchanged a glance, the tension palpable. They had fifty each, and the thought of walking away empty-handed was unbearable. “Fifty-five,” Will offered, his voice a mix of hope and desperation. “It’s all we’ve got.”

Mr. Burns’ eyes narrowed, and he took a long, deliberate draw on his cigar. “Well,” he said, blowing out a plume of smoke, “you know what they say about desperate times.” He leaned back, his hands resting on the fence as he eyed the two young men. “How about this, I’ll give you a deal you can’t refuse.”

“What’s that?” Will asked, his heart racing.

Mr. Burns leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You see, I’ve heard talk ‘bout the kind of entertainment you two been puttin’ on over at your place,” he said, his voice low. “A little naked wrasslin’ between the ladies, if I ain’t mistaken.”

Will felt his face grow hot, but he held Mr. Burns’ gaze. “What’s that got to do with the horses?”

Mr. Burns leaned in even closer, his smile turning into a leer. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, his eyes shifting to the side as he took another drag on his cigar, “I’ll sell you these two beauties for fifty apiece. But there’s a catch.”

Will’s heart sank. He had a feeling this was coming. “What’s the catch?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Mr. Burns leaned back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “I’ll agree to sell you the horses for fifty apiece, but only if I can be part of the show,” he said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I’ve always had a taste for the exotic, and what could be more exotic than a naked beautifull mothers in a catfight?”

Will and Carter exchanged a nervous glance. They had never considered the idea of sharing their secret with anyone else, let alone someone as greedy and unscrupulous as Mr. Burns. But the temptation of the horses was too great to resist. “What do you mean?” Will asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Mr. Burns’ smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming. “Simple,” he said, spitting a glob of tobacco juice into the dirt. “You hold another one of those matches, and I get a VIP seat. And maybe, just maybe, You got the horses for fifty each and I’ll throw in a couple of those fancy saddles for free.”