January 15, 1872
“It takes years to get a new brass button to look like an old brass button,” Victor suddenly said out of nowhere.
The men sitting around the tables and at the bar turned to look at him.
“Who said that?” one of the men asked.
“I did,” said Victor
“You did not.”
“I said it, I tell you!” Victor smiled one of his enormous toothy grins and slammed his glass down on the table. “JOHNSON!,” he bellowed, “More whiskey, all around! I just thought up a wise sayin’.”
Johnson came around with the bottle and refilled everyone’s glasses. One of the men asked him, “That feller ever get them horses he be askin’ ‘bout?”
Before Johnson could answer, Victor spoke. “Oh, he got his horses, alright, and made off like a damn bandit in the deal.”
“You sold ‘im horses?”
“I did, and got a skinning for the effort. ‘swhy I’m here with you fellers and not up the homestead. d’wife take my hide, too, if’n that feller ain’t already done so.”
“What’ya mean? How many you sold ‘im?”
“All of them.”
“So, what’cha gonna do now?”
Victor’s head rolled around on his shoulders a couple of times. “Don’ rightly know.”
The men gave each other knowing looks. Victor Samuels was always losing his shirt, one way or the other.
“Well,” one said, “You best hold on to the claim on that land, good and tight, mister. At least you got that.”
“AMEN!” Victor bellowed, slamming his glass down on the table again. “Johnson! More whiskey!”
The opening line is another writing prompt. It made me think of Victor, so I added this bit to the story.