Moore's saddlelery and repair. I had brought in two saddles along with a nice pair of saddle bags, along with several bridals. Before selling, I had decided to do a little browsing. I was looking at a rifle scabbard when Jake slid up next to me, his excitement barely hard to contain. Whispering to me, he nodded towards a line of saddles.
"Mark, second saddle in that row, check it out." I could tell by his eyes it had to be something special, and special it was. An English officer's saddle in excellent condition, marked on the stirrup covers, and each side of the saddle with "CSA" Confederate States of America. Shining brass hardware finished it out. There was no way it was a fake, I had never seen one in any book, Jake told me he thought they had one in the Confederacy museum in Richmond, this had obviously made it past the blockade adding to it's value. Jake and I casually strolled over to the proprietor who was finishing up with a customer.
"How much are you asking for that Confederate saddle over on the rack," asked Jake. The man looked at us, then over towards the saddle.
"It ain't a roping saddle," he replied, "Yank's around here won't buy it, what chaall give me?"
"How about these two saddles, as well as this pair of bags?" I replied. The man slowly looked them over then said,
"Ya got yer self a deal mister!" I forget what I even sold the bridles for I was in such a daze.
At the gun shops I had Jake do all the trading and negotiating, keeping my hand tightly on that saddle, for fear I'd set it down someplace and forget it. Jake thought the whole thing amusing, but he didn't see me laughing.