The Saddle Maker's Son (5 page)

Nothing better than the smell of cowhide in the morning. Tobias grinned to himself as he followed David into the new saddle shop—what would soon be the saddle and leather shop. He left the door open, better to get some fresh air into the long, narrow room with its bare Sheetrock walls. Short, high windows sported curtains made from small, rectangular Indian blankets. The scarred wood floor needed sweeping of dust and the detritus of leather shavings.

He stretched his arms over his head, cranked his neck from side to side, and inhaled. The place smelled of dust, leather, and old wood. Lots of work to be done here. He felt at home already. It was good of Leroy and his sons to loan them the building next to the corral where the horses were trained. The Englischers would bring the horses and stop in to check out the saddles and leather goods.

Boxes of tools and leather goods they'd brought from Ohio sat along one wall waiting to be opened. They would go into town in a few weeks to see which stores might be interested in selling the smaller items—wallets, belts, holsters, koozies, hunting
canteens, and shaving kits. All had sold well up north. Their meat and potatoes when the more expensive saddles weren't in high demand. Here, the market was as yet unknown. Tobias itched to get started with the leather work. Not the marketing so much. He had to do it. Daed had no use for it and David tended to run at the mouth and get little actual work done.

Morning sun burst through the dirty windows that faced the east. A good place to put the saddle maker's bench. He had a saddletree ready to go for the first custom job that came along. He needed lots of light to do the fancy tooling on the leather the Englischers liked. The shop needed some work, but Gott was good to provide this new start in a place where folks valued their horseflesh and the trappings that came with it.

“This place is a pit.” David strode through the door, sniffed, and groaned, his green eyes squinted against the sunlight pouring in around him, creating a halo behind his straw hat. “It stinks.”

“What do you care? You'll spend all your time in the corral or the barn, anyway.”

His brother grinned. “It's not my fault Gott gave me no patience for busywork and all the tools to make horses follow me around like a pied piper.”

“Each to their own. Might as well get to work.” Tobias didn't rise to the bait. “Unpack that association saddle I finished before we left. We need to display it in case folks come in. Give them an idea of the work we can do.”

“Who do you think will buy custom saddles around here?” Instead of heading for the boxes, David propped himself against a wall and dusted dirt from his boots with the back of his hand. “Not a lot of money in these parts from the looks of the place.”

“There's plenty of ranches around here with working cowboys.”
Tobias had explained this to his brother more than once on the long ride to Texas. “They understand that a custom-made saddle will last them far longer than a factory job. It's worth the investment to know they can ride it hard and long every day for five years or more.”

“I hope you're right. Otherwise we moved for nothing.”

“Regardless, Jeremiah says there's a man in town who creates websites. We can take orders from all over the country if we have a website.”

“You think Daed will go for that?”

“I already talked to him about it. He said as long as I don't bring the computer into the shop, he's happy.”

“Times, they are a-changing.” David snorted. “I forgot the cooler in the buggy. I'll be back.”

Anything to get out of the boring work. Tobias turned his back on his brother and surveyed the boxes. The saddle he'd labored over for three weeks, giving it an elaborate design of leaves and a basket stamp, should be in one of the bigger boxes. Cobwebs decorated the beams of the ceiling over them. He breathed, coughed, and sneezed.

“God bless you.”

He looked back at the high voice with a Texas twang. A woman in her early to midtwenties stood in the open door. She wore a red checkered western-style shirt, faded blue jeans, black cowboy boots, and a belt with a silver buckle as big as Tobias's fist. Her blonde hair hung in a braid down her back. Her face was fresh and clean, devoid of makeup. “Sorry, didn't mean to startle you.”

“You didn't.” He tugged open a box of cleaning supplies and rags on top of a spindly, old oak table in the middle of the room.
They would need to clean up before they started setting up the equipment. They needed to build some counters too. And hang the horseshoes they used to hold all their leather string, twines, threads, and such. “We're not open yet. As you can see.”

“But we could be, depending on what you need.” David sauntered into the room, cooler in hand, and halted next to Tobias. His gaze lingered on the woman. “I'm David Byler. This is my brother Tobias. He's a saddle maker. I train horses.”

Making as if to pick up another box, Tobias smacked his brother on the arm. “We're just unpacking. We're not open.”

“Actually, I was looking for Adam Glick.” The woman slid her hat from her head, giving Tobias a better look at her blue eyes. “He was supposed to meet me in the corral this morning.”

“He's probably running a little late.”

“I reckon.”

“You're welcome to wait.” David threw out the invitation before Tobias could suggest she put her horse in the corral while she waited.

“Thanks. I'm Bobbie McGregor.”

“Bobbie?”

“Short for Roberta. My daddy calls me Roberta Sue, but he's the only one who gets away with it.”

Turning his back on their visitor, Tobias picked up a handful of rags and a bottle of window cleaner. No matter what his daed wanted, Tobias couldn't lose the manners his mudder had instilled in him. Bobbie was a new acquaintance. “Are you interested in a saddle?”

She strode into the room and stopped by a cowhide stretched over a chair abandoned along one wall. Her hand smoothed the leather in quick, soft strokes. “I might be. Adam showed me a
catalog from up north that had some of your work in it. The saddles were nice.”

The catalog had been the tip of the iceberg that had gotten Tobias in trouble. They had worked with an Englisch horse farmer to expand their business when farming hadn't been enough to take care of the family. The Englischer had a daughter. Serena. Serena with blonde hair, white skin, and brilliant emerald-green eyes. Serena who favored pink lipstick, white lacy blouses, and long swirling skirts and never went anywhere without a thick book stuck in a big bag slung over her shoulder.

That was all in the past. “If you want to leave a note, we can let Adam know you stopped by.”

“I have Cracker Jack in the trailer out there. I'll wait.”

“Cracker Jack?”

“The horse I need trained.”

“Right.”

“So how do you like South Texas?”

“I like it fine.”

“Man of few words. Like my dad.” She slipped past him, leaving a cloud of scent like roses behind, moving toward the single open chair in the room. She planted a boot on it and propped her elbow on her knee, her chin on her hand. “How come you don't train horses like your brother and your dad?”

“I prefer to work with leather.”

“So you're the artistic one in the family. How much do you charge for your saddles?”

“Depends on what you want. Basic working saddle starts at four thousand.”

“I already have a basic saddle. Three of them, in fact. A person
could never have too many saddles.” She pulled a folded piece of glossy paper from her back pocket and held it out. Her fingernails were clipped short, her hands the calloused hands of someone who did work on a regular basis. “It's a barrel-racing saddle with crystal trim. Do you do the fancy stuff?”

They did the fancy stuff because some Englischers who could afford custom-made saddles wanted it. The working cowboys didn't care about it. They were more interested in solid construction that meant the riggings would never slip and the horn would stay put when they were cutting cattle day in and day out. Tobias accepted her offering and studied the photo and description taken from a catalog.

David moved to look over his shoulder. He let out a long, low whistle. “Wow.”

Oversized silver conchos, oiled leather carved in floral and basket-weave tooling with little crystals finishing the inside of each flower. Intricate work. Beautiful. The cantle had rawhide and silver lace trim and the seat was a black padded suede with a fleece underside. “Nice.”

“Nice? It's awesome. Can you do that kind of work?”

“If you've already found one, why do you want me to make it for you?”

“Custom made is better. It's a tad more ornate than I like. I'd want oak leaves and acorns.”

He'd have to order the conchos, the crystals, and the suede. It would be expensive, but she seemed willing and able to pay. Their first customer in Texas. “We can do it, but it takes time and we have to set up the shop first.”

“Any idea how much it will cost me?”

Aside from two sides of cowhide and the fleece of an entire sheep? “I won't know until I research the materials we'll have to special order. You'll have to give us a deposit up front.”

“You don't have a price list?”

“Not yet.” Daed strode through the door, a frown stretched across his face, a long, dead rattler swinging from one hand. “We're not open yet.”

“So Tobias said. You must be the dad. You three look like triplets.” Bobbie nodded in greeting. “Been doing a little hunting?”

“We may look alike, but I'm older and wiser.” Levi slapped the snake on the table next to the boxes. “Adam just pulled up. He said he was waiting on a customer. I reckon that must be you.”

“What'll you do with the rattlesnake skin?” Bobbie edged closer to the table. She didn't seem in any hurry to talk to Adam now that Levi had arrived. “That one would make a nice band for the black hat I wear when I barrel race.”

“That we can do—once the shop is open.” Levi waved a hand toward the stacks of boxes. “I imagine my sons told you we have a lot of unpacking to do first. When you come back to order your saddle, we'll talk about the hatband.”

“The name's Bobbie with an
i-e
, not
y
, McGregor. Don't be selling it to someone else.” Bobbie turned and tipped her hat to Tobias and David. “Nice meeting you. I'll be back.”

“We should be open for business in a few days.”

She stopped at the door and looked back. “Good. Consider the saddle your first sale here. Welcome to Texas.”

Tobias didn't answer. He knew better. Storm clouds rolled across Levi's usually taciturn face. Better to let his daed deal with the customers. Tobias would simply do the work and keep his mouth shut. A practice that had held him in good stead. Until
Serena. Bobbie disappeared into the bright sunlight of a South Texas spring day.

“I'm gonna go see how Adam does business with the Englisch folks around here.” David dashed out the door before Tobias or Daed could respond.

Best to find a new subject quick. Tobias opened the closest box. Wool. Lots of wool. “What's with the snake?”

“Had a mess of babies outside the girls' outhouse at the school.”

“You want me to clean it?”

“Jah.” Levi sniffed. He wasn't done talking yet, that was certain, but as usual, he appeared to be mulling over his words as if they had to be translated from some ancient, difficult, dead language. “I thought you'd learned something.”

Here we go.
“She's a potential customer. We need those if we're going to make this store work. Besides, David is the one following after her like a puppy dog.”

“He's looking for business. He knows how much we need it.”

“I have no plans to repeat my mistakes.”
Or to let David do the same.

“That's gut.”

“But you'll have to trust me on that. I have to talk to customers, whether they be men or women.” He sprayed the dirty window and began to wipe with more vigor than necessary. “In case you haven't noticed, this place is out in the middle of nowhere. Customers will have to hear good things about us and be willing to drive a piece in order to give us work. We'll need that website I talked to you about.”

“I'm well aware. I leave that sort of thing to you as long as you understand the rules.”

“I do. Are you also aware that we have to be nice to folks in order to get their business?”

“I'm aware.” Levi heaved another box onto the table and pulled back the panels to reveal Tobias's favorite tools of the trade. The skiving knife, lacing awl, bull-nose pliers, leather hole punches, rivet setter, copper and silver rivets, a cobbler's hammer, his beveling tool. They needed to set up the wooden holders he'd built special for keeping all these small pieces organized.

His hands itched to get to work. It had been too long. The work occupied his hands and left his mind to wander over peaks and valleys of thoughts that meandered on a road to nowhere or to understanding, he was never sure which it would be.

“Hey.” Adam stuck his head in the door. “David says Bobbie talked to y'all about training her quarter horse. She might be a good one for you to start with. You could handle the training. The saddle is a separate deal, for her barrel racing. You'd be doing that anyway. Make it a package deal.”

“I don't want to take food off your table.” Levi's words trailed off. He laid the awl on an old towel with the other tools. Thankfulness warred with unwillingness on his face. When Levi took a dislike to a situation, he could be as stubborn as an old
groossmammi
. “We're thankful for your generosity. We could use the business.”

“Nee, nee. Just being neighborly.” Adam jerked his head. “Come on, you need to negotiate the terms of the deal, or whatever you Northerners call it. Day's not getting any younger.”