Ryan, Casey (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Western stories
Furthermore that you take as security for said loan such motor truck and
equipment etc. as he has now stored at your place of business. I am aware
of the fact that a motor truck in any running condition would amply secure
such loans as would purchase tickets from Patmos to San Jose, and I hereby
enclose note for same, duly made out in blank and signed by me, which
signature will be backed by the signature of my brother. Upon receiving
from you such money as he may require he will duly deliver note and
security duly signed and filled with the amount. I trust this will be
perfectly satisfactory to you as amply securing you for the loan of the
desired amount.
Thanking you in advance,
Yours very Truly,
J. Paul Smith.
In spite of himself, Casey was impressed. The very Spanish name of the
prune orchard impressed him, and so did the formal business terms used by
J. Paul Smith; and that "thanking you in advance" seemed to place him
under a moral obligation too great to shirk. There was the note, too,--
heavy green paper with a stag's head printed on it, and looking almost
like a check.
"Well, all right, if it don't cost too much and the time don't run too
long," surrendered Casey reluctantly. "How much--"
"Fare's a little over twenty-five dollars, an' they'll be four full fares
an' three half. I guess mebby I better have a hundred an' seventy-five
anyway, so'st we kin eat on the way."
Casey chanced to have almost that much coming to him out of the business,
so that he would not be lending Bill's money. He watched the lean Smith
fill in the amount and sign the note, identifying the truck by its engine
and license numbers, and he went and borrowed fifteen dollars from the
proprietor of the Oasis and made up the amount. There was a train at noon,
and from his garage door he watched the Smith family start off across the
lava rocks to the depot, each one laden with bundles and disreputable
grips, the spotted dog trotting optimistically ahead of the party with his
pink tongue draped over the right side of his mouth. Smith turned, the
baby in his arms, and called back casually to Casey:
"Yuh better tie up them two milk goats when yuh milk 'em. They won't stand
if yuh don't."
Casey's jaw sagged. He had not thought of the goats. Indeed, the last two
days they had not troubled him except by their bleating at dawn. Humbolt
and Greeley had grazed them over by the railroad track so that they could
watch the trains go by. Casey looked and saw that the goats were still
over there where they had been driven early. He took off his hat and
rubbed his palm reflectively over the back of his head, set the hat on his
head with a pronounced tilt over one eyebrow, and reached for his plug of
tobacco.
"Oh, darn the goats! Me milkin' goats! Well, now, Casey Ryan never milked
no goats, an' he ain't goin' to milk no goats! You can ask anybody if they
think't he will."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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