From the Improvement Era, February 1942 –

Mere Pleasure – A Short Short Story

By James P. Sharp

A short half-mile from the ranch, the road wound up a juniper-covered hill. On top of this sat a man on horseback, who said, as the other approached, “Stranger, I don’t like you nor your kind. Shell out. I don’t want to be late for dinner.”

No time was lost, for the stranger found himself looking down the business end of a revolver. First came a well-filled wallet with numerous notes to be collected, then a purse, watch, and chain and other articles. When the man stopped, Butch said, “Seems to me you should have a bag of gold.”

One day, about dinner time, Butch Cassidy rode into a ranch that was owned by a fairly well-to-do couple who knew him well. They seemed pleased to see him but were terribly worried.
Six months previous a man who represented himself to be some government official stopped at their place for the night. He said he was searching for a route to put a railroad through that valley. When he was leaving he insisted on paying them five dollars for his lodging. They objected, but he insisted, and they took it. He then produced a receipt book with a receipt already made out which he asked both the man and his wife to sign so when he got back to Washington he could get his money refunded.

Yesterday a different man had called, they told him, and produced a note signed by both of them for five hundred dollars with interest at the rate of twelve percent, making in all five hundred thirty dollars which he claimed was due him, and as the note called for gold he insisted on it being paid with such. He also said there was a provision in the note which gave him the right to take, immediate possession if the amount was not paid. He had graciously given them twenty-four hours to have the gold at the ranch — which meant he would be there at twelve noon that day. They had some money in the bank but did not have time to get it.

Butch reached in his saddlebag and took out a buckskin sack. He emptied out the gold and counted five hundred thirty dollars back in, placing the rest in his pocket. All he said was, “Here’s the gold. I’ll take your check.”

The check was handed over as, looking down the road, they could see the man riding up. The rancher explained that this man also held a note signed by his neighbor a mile up the valley which he was going to collect also.

Butch mounted his horse and rode away, calling out, “I’ll be back for dinner in an hour. So long.” Up the valley he went.

The stranger rode in, collected, and rode on, perfectly satisfied with his business ability.

This was then dropped on the ground along with the other articles. Then he with the revolver said, “Better drop your coat and vest and that revolver and belt.”

When this was done, Butch said, “Climb on your horse. See that bare ridge at the head of the valley? Well, it’s just three miles from here. Get riding, and if you are not over that in ten minutes I’ll start after you.”

A few well-placed revolver shots helped the rider along, and by the streak of dust he showed that no time was being lost.

Butch seemed unusually happy as he ate his dinner. When he had finished the meal, he said, as he took the check from his pocket, “Been a thinking. Might get arrested if I went to the bank to cash this.” He lit a match to it and they watched it burn.

There was silence for some moments, and then the wife said with trembling voice as she wiped her tear-dimmed eyes, “God bless you, Butch, for all the good you have done.”

Butch shrugged the tribute away, saying:

“Don’t thank me, lady. The pleasure was all mine.”