1 Chapter 1

“The economy sucks, man.”

Tyler Steele nodded his agreement at his best friend Barney’s assessment. Barney had lost his job at the local car dealership. He had been in charge of truck and trailer sales.

“Tell me about it,” chimed in Zeb, another of Tyler’s friends and owner of Zeb’s Westside Saddlery. “Business is down over ten percent. No one’s buyin’ horses and those that have ’em can’t afford to buy tack any more.”

Tyler sighed as he sipped his beer. His business too was slow. He was a horse trainer and in the past two years his twenty stall barn had gone from full to fifty per cent occupancy.

“Yep,” he drawled. “No one wants horses trained right now and the ones I got trained are cuttin’ back on showin’. Don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

The three men sat commiserating one Friday night at the Stampede, a local country western bar. The live band played “Good Time” and several folks were out on the floor line dancing to the song. The men at Tyler’s table agreed the song wasn’t reflecting their current mood. Not one of them had the slightest inclination to get up and join the dance. That suited Ty just fine as he usually refused any invitation to join the line dance.

“Well, Ty,” Zeb offered, “you could give lessons. Ever thought about that?”

“Yeah, I thought about it. I ain’t taught beginners fer God knows how long. I don’t know if I’d have patience with little kids and their parents anymore. I have enough trouble with the riders I got showin’. If they don’t win it’s all my fault. If they do, well it’s all on them and I had nothin’ to do with it.” He took another swig of his beer.

“Still,” Zeb pressed on, “a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.”

“Yeah, Ty,” Barney added. “At least you got a skill you can use. I don’t know nothing’ but how to sell trucks and trailers, and that ain’t happening right now.”

Tyler sighed again. Maybe Zeb and Barney were right. Maybe he should look into giving lessons again

Zeb seemed to sense Tyler was thinking about it. “Go on, put an ad up and see what happens. You could put it on Craigslist. Who knows, you might make out like a bandit. Folks might take some lessons and then want to buy a horse and then they’d need tack and you could send ’em ta me.” He took a drink of his beer and winked at the cowboy.

“Then they’d need a truck and trailer to haul to shows and I might get called back to work!” Barney added.

All three laughed.

“Well, that maybe’d work,” Tyler said thoughtfully. “Where do I get a hold of this Craig fella ta get on his list?”

“God, Tyler! What century are ya livin’ in? Craigslist is like the old classified ads in the papers. It’s on the Internet,” Barney said.

Tyler kinda shrugged and looked away, feeling embarrassed.

“Wait a minute. You still ain’t bought a computer, have ya?” Zeb said with a laugh.

Barney joined in. “Come on, Tyler. We told you a year ago that you needed a computer if you were gonna do business these days.”

“Don’t need one,” Tyler said defensively. He didn’t want to admit he’d tried looking into the modern technology but had decided it was too complicated for him. “I do just fine as it is.”

“Yeah, well, wasn’t it you that was just sayin’ your business was off and ya didn’t know what you was gonna do? Or was that some other fella wearin’ a western shirt and a Stetson occupyin’ yer body?”

“I don’t have a computer. Don’t see how that’d change things anyway! There! You satisfied?” Tyler asked with finality.

“Do you at least have a cell phone? Barney asked sarcastically. “Then if you do place an ad they can at least call ya. Or would you rather they used smoke signals?” He laughed again.

“Shut your face. I got me a cell,” Tyler said sullenly.

Barney kept chuckling.

“Could use the computer at the library. They’d be happy to help ya,” Zeb told Tyler as he signaled the waitress for another pitcher of beer for the men. “Or come over to the store. I’ll let you use mine.”

Tyler thought about this. He knew it was his pride talking when he refused Zeb’s offer to help. He knew he wouldn’t go to the library either. It would be too hard to admit he didn’t know the first thing about computing. But he did realize he had to do something to bring in a little more money. He’d think about it over the weekend. The pitcher arrived and the conversation turned to other topics.

* * * *

By Monday Tyler had made up his mind he’d give lessons a try; but he’d decided he would place an ad the old fashioned way: in the newspaper. So after feeding the horses and turning them out he drove his F250 into town, heading for the business office of The Sentinel

“Can I help you?” a pretty young woman asked as he walked up to the counter.

“Yes ma’am. I’d like to put an ad in the paper,” Tyler replied.

“Sure thing.” The woman smiled, reached under the counter and brought out several sheets of paper. “Here are our rates. As you can see the longer the ad runs the cheaper it is overall.”

Tyler looked over the rate sheet. He decided the long-term ad would make more sense.