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Jim held up the box with his savings and opened it, showing the cash inside. He
pointed at the top figure on the paper. Closing the box, he made the motion of handing it
over to Rasmussen, and pointed with a circling motion at the building around them. After
setting the box down on the ground, he made a back and forth gesture between himself
and Rasmussen and joined his hands together in a link.
He stopped to gaze at Rasmussen, waiting for him to figure it out, wanting to grab
the man s face and tilt his head so he could read his eyes. Rasmussen looked at the
numbers on the paper, the moneybox, and at Jim. The reflected light vanished and Jim
could see the astonishment in his eyes.
You want to buy my business.
Jim made a link with his hands again and once more gestured between them. He
crossed two fingers to add to the point.
Together. A partnership?
Jim nodded emphatically.
Rasmussen rubbed his jaw, his hand half covering his mouth, but Jim caught the
flash of a smile. His stomach clenched. It was an easy sign to read. The man thought he
was a fool and his offer to buy, a joke.
Jim jabbed his finger at the paper, showing he wasn t so dumb as to think the funds
he had on hand were enough to buy a share in a prosperous business. He was no idiot, as
Rasmussen well knew, having entrusted him with his bookkeeping for several years now.
Indicating the numbers for payments over several years, he pointed to the bottom line
again, showing how much he was willing to pay.
Rasmussen breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, his shoulders moving up and
down. When he looked at Jim this time there wasn t a trace of humor on his lips. He
shook his head and waved the paper. I can t make this deal.
Jim s chest was so tight he could barely draw breath, his entire body was rigid as he
nodded. He could see all his hopes crashing into pieces like a broken pane of glass.
Rasmussen clapped a hand on his shoulder. I m sorry, but I can t.
Giving another curt nod, Jim backed away, shrugging off the man s hand.
I m going to sell this. He pointed at the building around them. Sell and move on.
Understand?
Jim spread his hands and shook his head. Who was he selling it to? He pointed to the
box and the paper, and pantomimed counting out money to Rasmussen. I ll buy it. Just
give me time.
You can t. The man shook his head and adjusted his glasses again. I want the
money so I can move back east. I want to see my family again.
Jim made the sign for time by tapping his wrist.
I don t have a buyer yet, but I hope by next summer.
Summer, a long way off, but not nearly long enough for him to earn what Rasmussen
would want. His gut twisted. To make things worse, he d be out of both a job and a place
to live. The work he did at Murdoch s wasn t nearly enough to keep him fed, clothed and
housed. Maybe the new owner of the stable would let him stay on, but he couldn t count
on it. Besides, the thought of endless years of earning pennies a day working for other
men was intolerable. He needed more money and fast.
Rasmussen waved a hand to get his attention. I m sorry. I d ask the new owner to
let you stay here as part of the deal&
Jim held up a hand and shook his head. He stooped to pick up the cashbox from the
floor and walked away.
In his room, he closed and locked the door behind him. He weighed the tin box in his
hand a moment, then flung it across the room. It hit the opposite wall and fell, coins
scattering across the floor, bills fluttering down among them like falling leaves.
Hurling the box released some of his anger. It felt good so he swept his arm across
the top of his dresser, knocking his pitiful possessions onto the floor, the ridiculous little
carved animals, pathetic toiletries and useless old catalog he could never afford to order
from. These paltry items were the sum of his entire dismal life.
He kicked the frame of his bed, hurting his foot and knocking the light cot away
from the wall. Heedless of Rasmussen hearing the noise, he cried out his rage and
frustration, tore the covers off the bed, picked up the pillow and punched it. He hurled it
across the room. Dragging the thin mattress from the metal mesh of the cot, he tossed it
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