Every month almost like clockwork, the peddler and his wagon came to town. It wasn't much of a town, as much as it was small farm community out on the fertile plains. The bread basket of the country it was called. Corn, wheat, and anything else that was seeded into the ground grew in the rich dark soil. But for one boy, young Jimmy Wilkes, the peddlers wagon was the high point of his life. The small dry goods store in town had the necessities of life, but the peddles wagon held unusual delights. One a month the men and women got a chance to dicker over the treasures it carried.
But for Jimmy, the utmost delight came when the peddler dealt with the menfolks, and dropped the side of the wagon where the drawers held pocket knives and such. He craned his neck to see the different pocket knives the men were handling, and mulling over. There were Barlow's with one and two blades. There were three bladed cattle knives, large single blade jacks with sheep foot blades. All were the object of the boys interest. But one in particular had caught his eye. It was a two blade jack, with a deep rich red color to the jigged bone handles. At a young age, Jimmy found out what lust was.
The peddler saw the boy eyeing the knife, and most of the men had moved off, having completed their business with the peddler. The man was closing up the wagon getting ready to move on, and he looked down at the boy who was still staring transfixed at the knife.
"You like that one, Son?" he asked Jimmy.
"Yes sir! If I had the money I'd buy from you. I sure would." said Jimmy.
The peddler looked the boy over carefully , and made a judgement. He was a shrewd judge of character as his livelihood required of him. Then he did something the boy thought was somewhere between a miracle and dream. The peddler took the knife from the case, looked at what he had penciled in on that spot in the case, then handed the boy the pocket knife.
"I'll tell you what boy. You take it and put it in your pocket, and when I come through here next month, you pay me then. How about that?"
Jimmy didn't think he'd heard right.
"You gonna give this knife now when I don't have the money? " Jimmy asked incredulously.
"No, I'm selling you the knife now that you're paying me for next month when I see you again." the peddler told him. "You see, I've been in business a long time, and sometimes I do a credit deal. Most times people are honest and pay their debts. I think you're an honest looking young man, so you just pay me back when I come through again. That gives you a month to save up. And a boy should have a good pocket knife in his pocket, don't you think?"
"Yes sir, and I won't let you down." Jimmy told him.
"I know you won't, so we'll seal the deal. You give me your hand on it."
The peddler and the boy shook hands on the deal, and Jimmy knew that it was his personal honor at stake now. But it was a small price to pay for a red bone handled jackknife. One with two blades no less.
The peddler packed up his wagon and the left with the rattling of pots and pans and other goods, and Jimmy knew that he had a debt to pay off. He needed to get a job somehow. That afternoon he visited the livery stable and dry goods store. The hostler told him he'd pay him to muck out the stalls every morning, and feed the horses, but it was a low paying job. He next visited Mr. Lowe who owned the small dry goods store.
"I don't know, son, this is small operation to be taking on employees." he told Jimmy.
"But I have to get another job, Mr. Lowe, I got a debt to pay off!" Jimmy exclaimed.
Mr. Lowe looked down at the worried looking boy.
"What kind of debt can a boy like you have incurred at your few years?"
"I got just a month to pay back the peddler for a pocket knife. He gave it to me just for shaking his hand and promising to pay him when he came through next month." Jimmy said.
Mr. Lowe nowlooked at Jimmy with new respect. He slowly rubbed the stubble on his chin as he thought carefully.
"A debt is a serious thing. A man can do all sorts of things and not be thought ill of. Drink, curse some, even skip going to Sunday meetings the reverend holds. But a word given on your honor and shook on is the most serious thing a man can do. A man's word is the most important thing he has in this world. Why just the other day, the Baker ranch was sold. Old man Baker and Mr. Holden wrote out the bill of sale on a piece of brown wrapping paper, and that was that. Baker told the buyer that there was five thousand head of cattle on that ranch, and the buyer was okay with that. You know why? Because they were both men of their word. That Holden man knew if Baker said there was five thousand head of cattle, that there was. Give or take a few depending on coyotes or wolves."
Mr. Lowe paused a bit and then told Jimmy,
"You come by here every morning, and help me keep the place strait, and you'll have a job. Sweep up, help me stock the shelves, and some odd chores. How about it?"
Jimmy hesitated just a bit.
"But I have to go to the livery stable every morning to muck the stalls and feed the horses." Jimmy told him.
"That''s good. You're an enterprising young fellow, and I like that. Just come by here when you get done at the stable."
They shook hands on it and Jimmy had hope that he'd be able to pay the peddler.
The next month passed in agonizingly slow time for Jimmy. Each night after dinner, he'd take the cloth tobacco pouch he used to keep his money in, and count up how much he'd gathered. Each night he'd mark off another day on the calendar to keep track of how long until the peddler came back to town. Time and money became important to Jimmy. But each night, and more than a few times during the day, he'd take out the redbone jackknife and admire it. He loved how the deep rich color made the knife standout when he set it down. He admired the pattern of the jigging in the bone, anyhow it felt during the day when he would slip a hand in his pocket to feel the knife. Over the month, the blades started to take on a gray patina from the use he gave it. Cutting open feed sacks, cutting bailing cord helping with the first hay harvest. Slicing an apple a piece at a time like he saw the hostler doing with his knife at the stable. It was becoming his knife.
Then the day came that the peddler was back again. Jimmy was waiting out on the road, and as the peddler came into sight, he greeted him by waving the cloth tobacco pouch in the air.
"I've got your money sir! I worked all month and I got it all." Jimmy told him.
"Heck, I knew you would. I told you I'm a good judge of character." the peddler said as he stepped down from the wagon seat took the tobacco sack and put it in his coat pocket.
"Ain't you gonna count it?" Jimmy asked.
"Why, isn't it all there?" the peddler asked.
"Yes, of course it's all there." Jimmy told him.
"Then I don't have to count it, then." the peddler said. "Your word is good enough for me."
Jimmy knew then that he'd gained something far more than a pocket knife. He felt a new sense of self respect. Of a place in the world where a man's word and honor didn't have a price.
But for Jimmy, the utmost delight came when the peddler dealt with the menfolks, and dropped the side of the wagon where the drawers held pocket knives and such. He craned his neck to see the different pocket knives the men were handling, and mulling over. There were Barlow's with one and two blades. There were three bladed cattle knives, large single blade jacks with sheep foot blades. All were the object of the boys interest. But one in particular had caught his eye. It was a two blade jack, with a deep rich red color to the jigged bone handles. At a young age, Jimmy found out what lust was.
The peddler saw the boy eyeing the knife, and most of the men had moved off, having completed their business with the peddler. The man was closing up the wagon getting ready to move on, and he looked down at the boy who was still staring transfixed at the knife.
"You like that one, Son?" he asked Jimmy.
"Yes sir! If I had the money I'd buy from you. I sure would." said Jimmy.
The peddler looked the boy over carefully , and made a judgement. He was a shrewd judge of character as his livelihood required of him. Then he did something the boy thought was somewhere between a miracle and dream. The peddler took the knife from the case, looked at what he had penciled in on that spot in the case, then handed the boy the pocket knife.
"I'll tell you what boy. You take it and put it in your pocket, and when I come through here next month, you pay me then. How about that?"
Jimmy didn't think he'd heard right.
"You gonna give this knife now when I don't have the money? " Jimmy asked incredulously.
"No, I'm selling you the knife now that you're paying me for next month when I see you again." the peddler told him. "You see, I've been in business a long time, and sometimes I do a credit deal. Most times people are honest and pay their debts. I think you're an honest looking young man, so you just pay me back when I come through again. That gives you a month to save up. And a boy should have a good pocket knife in his pocket, don't you think?"
"Yes sir, and I won't let you down." Jimmy told him.
"I know you won't, so we'll seal the deal. You give me your hand on it."
The peddler and the boy shook hands on the deal, and Jimmy knew that it was his personal honor at stake now. But it was a small price to pay for a red bone handled jackknife. One with two blades no less.
The peddler packed up his wagon and the left with the rattling of pots and pans and other goods, and Jimmy knew that he had a debt to pay off. He needed to get a job somehow. That afternoon he visited the livery stable and dry goods store. The hostler told him he'd pay him to muck out the stalls every morning, and feed the horses, but it was a low paying job. He next visited Mr. Lowe who owned the small dry goods store.
"I don't know, son, this is small operation to be taking on employees." he told Jimmy.
"But I have to get another job, Mr. Lowe, I got a debt to pay off!" Jimmy exclaimed.
Mr. Lowe looked down at the worried looking boy.
"What kind of debt can a boy like you have incurred at your few years?"
"I got just a month to pay back the peddler for a pocket knife. He gave it to me just for shaking his hand and promising to pay him when he came through next month." Jimmy said.
Mr. Lowe nowlooked at Jimmy with new respect. He slowly rubbed the stubble on his chin as he thought carefully.
"A debt is a serious thing. A man can do all sorts of things and not be thought ill of. Drink, curse some, even skip going to Sunday meetings the reverend holds. But a word given on your honor and shook on is the most serious thing a man can do. A man's word is the most important thing he has in this world. Why just the other day, the Baker ranch was sold. Old man Baker and Mr. Holden wrote out the bill of sale on a piece of brown wrapping paper, and that was that. Baker told the buyer that there was five thousand head of cattle on that ranch, and the buyer was okay with that. You know why? Because they were both men of their word. That Holden man knew if Baker said there was five thousand head of cattle, that there was. Give or take a few depending on coyotes or wolves."
Mr. Lowe paused a bit and then told Jimmy,
"You come by here every morning, and help me keep the place strait, and you'll have a job. Sweep up, help me stock the shelves, and some odd chores. How about it?"
Jimmy hesitated just a bit.
"But I have to go to the livery stable every morning to muck the stalls and feed the horses." Jimmy told him.
"That''s good. You're an enterprising young fellow, and I like that. Just come by here when you get done at the stable."
They shook hands on it and Jimmy had hope that he'd be able to pay the peddler.
The next month passed in agonizingly slow time for Jimmy. Each night after dinner, he'd take the cloth tobacco pouch he used to keep his money in, and count up how much he'd gathered. Each night he'd mark off another day on the calendar to keep track of how long until the peddler came back to town. Time and money became important to Jimmy. But each night, and more than a few times during the day, he'd take out the redbone jackknife and admire it. He loved how the deep rich color made the knife standout when he set it down. He admired the pattern of the jigging in the bone, anyhow it felt during the day when he would slip a hand in his pocket to feel the knife. Over the month, the blades started to take on a gray patina from the use he gave it. Cutting open feed sacks, cutting bailing cord helping with the first hay harvest. Slicing an apple a piece at a time like he saw the hostler doing with his knife at the stable. It was becoming his knife.
Then the day came that the peddler was back again. Jimmy was waiting out on the road, and as the peddler came into sight, he greeted him by waving the cloth tobacco pouch in the air.
"I've got your money sir! I worked all month and I got it all." Jimmy told him.
"Heck, I knew you would. I told you I'm a good judge of character." the peddler said as he stepped down from the wagon seat took the tobacco sack and put it in his coat pocket.
"Ain't you gonna count it?" Jimmy asked.
"Why, isn't it all there?" the peddler asked.
"Yes, of course it's all there." Jimmy told him.
"Then I don't have to count it, then." the peddler said. "Your word is good enough for me."
Jimmy knew then that he'd gained something far more than a pocket knife. He felt a new sense of self respect. Of a place in the world where a man's word and honor didn't have a price.
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