Family Stories
Frank Robertson leaned against the railing of the neat frame house and studied the door.The setting sun slanted across it, reminding him that he hadn't eaten yet and that he still had to find a place to sleep that night.
"Just one more," he promised himself. He was going to prove himself to the merchant whose wares he carried.When Frank had proposed going from town to town with a selection of items the man displayed in his general store, Mr. Samson had expressed nothing but skepticism. He'd finally agreed but only after requiring Frank to leave a security deposit,in addition to paying for each item he carried away from the dingy building.
Frank jingled the loose coins in his pocket and used his foot to shove the worn suitcase away from the doorway, scowling at the memory.His first reaction had been to deliver a pithy discourse on the man's antecedents and then slam out of the store. But he had hesitated. He was hungry, he was miles away from the next town and none of the other shopkeepers had listened to even the beginning of Frank's practiced spiel.
Taking a deep breath, he'd acquiesced to the old man's terms. Now he stood in front of the last house in ... read full excerpt from: Family Stories ebook
