“You know the horse is worth that much without the saddle.” Fighting her indignation, Ros West frowned at the forty dollars sitting in the hostler’s calloused palm. “Are you sure that’s the best you can do?”
The wrinkled livery owner looked her over from the toes of her muddy boots to the top of her felt hat then spat a stream of tobacco. “Lady, times are hard. Take it or leave it. Either way, I won’t lose any sleep.”
“I bet you won’t,” she grumbled, snatching the money and fumbling it into her saddlebags.
Without another glance at the wily old trader, she slung the bags across her shoulder and left the livery with a dry throat and a short temper. It had been a long day and she hadn’t wanted to arrive in town after dark. The shadows might hold too many surprises, and right now, she could do without any more problems...
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