However, whatever my feelings in the matter, I had no control over the raging waters of the judge’s vengeance. When a rather large sum of money was declared as fair for having done the gardening, my mouth flew open, and I gasped. So did the other people in the seats of the make-shift courtroom. If popularity had ever been my goal, I could see from my quick scan of the faces of the villagers that I’d just been pushed from zero into negative numbers.
“You will provide this accounting to Shama by noon tomorrow,” the judge proclaimed.
The judge called back Mr. Barner. “I am still unclear as to the contract that you had with Mr. Henderson here for the foal now called Frey. Do you have that in writing?”
Mr. Barner took hold of a student desk to hold himself upright. It was apparent that his flask had continued to supply him with what I’d heard called fake courage.
“Nay,” he said. “We don’t use that stuff here. Word of mouth is good enough.”
“Mr. Henderson, did you have an oral agreement with Mr. Barner to sell him the foal that you later gave to Shama?”
Mr. Henderson shook his head. “Mr. Barner said he wanted the foal, but he doesn’t have a coin to his name. He drinks whatever he earns, your honor, as you can see. He spoke his wishes, nothing else. We never had a agreement, written or oral.”
“I see. Mr. Barner do you have a witness to this oral agreement concerning one unborn foal?”
“Nah. A man’s word is his bond. Everyone knows that.”
“What was the price agreed on, Mr. Barner?”
“Um. I . . . I was going to work it off at Henderson’s ranch.”
“Working around horses would require a sober laborer. Would Mr. Henderson agree to allowing you to work with his horses when you can barely stand up?”
“He would have, if that brat over there hadn’t stolen my horse away,” Mr. Barner said, puffing his chest out as if that would make him look more trustworthy when he was one swagger away from losing his balance.