Words, Words, Words

Johnny hopes that the perfect gift will speak volumes

Note: To the best of my knowledge and belief, this story is fair use of copyrighted material, as there is no commercial use and no loss of potential market or value of the original material will occur.

The gift had to be perfect. Oh, he had been happy to give his father the imported pipe tobacco for his birthday, and downright giddy at the thought of pleasing Murdoch with a horse to pair with Zanzibar, but this was different. This was very serious. It was vitally important to show how Johnny felt to have Scott for a brother.

Johnny felt inadequate to say the words. He hoped the perfect gift would speak for him, and Scott would understand.

It should be something lasting, that Scott would enjoy for a long time, and remember that the gift was from his brother.

Johnny congratulated himself on the solution. He would give Scott a book.

Johnny searched for a shop in San Francisco, knowing that the city was supposed to have many fine offerings. He found himself in some of the wealthier parts of the city, noting the look sent his way. He was still dressed in ranch clothes, wearing his low rig, and, well, some of the folks in the city just weren't used to it.

He entered the book shop, setting off the tinkling of a bell on the door. A clerk, all dressed in a fine suit and vest, watch fob dangling, approached with what clearly meant to be an ingratiating smile to the customer. The smile wavered a bit as he got a better look at Johnny.

"May I help you?" He did recover quickly, even if he didn't like what he saw.

"I'm lookin' for a book."

"What sort of book?"

Well, that set him back. He imagined that he would instantly know what to buy, but the shop was filled to the rafters with all sorts of books. Still, Brother did read just about everything. It shouldn't be this hard.

"A good one."

That got the clerk twitching around the mouth. "We have many fine books here-sir." The last word was said grudgingly.

Inspiration struck him. "The kind of book a man from Harvard would like."

Johnny allowed himself a tiny smile and took a perverse pleasure in the clerk's look of surprise.

"Oh, I see." The clerk looked back worriedly through those round rimmed spectacles. "Well, of course, a Harvard graduate would have read the ancient and modern classics of literature, as well as studies in the science, and Greek and Latin, too, of course." He stroked his moustache, while Johnny looked back expectantly. "Er, what would you say the price range is for what you would want to pay?"

"I wouldn't say."

""Ah, well, perhaps this book here. Of course, a Harvard graduate would have read many of these already, but we have here, just published in one volume for the first time, an anthology-" he paused when Johnny frowned- "that is, a collection of works by the finest British and American writers, poets, playwrights, essayists, from Chaucer through Tennyson, and newer American writers like Thoreau and Mark Twain."

Johnny shuffled over to the table where the clerk was holding a book, letting his spurs jangle. It was a well proven way to unsettle people who looked down on him. Made 'em squirm.

Johnny picked up the book full of classic lit-tra-chure. It was large, with a cover of rich, smooth leather and gold embossed letters. The pages were thin with some elaborate drawings in the margins. The book was beautiful and fine, like his brother, but it seemed like it would be easily broken by any kind of handling. Not like his brother. He looked up to say something, but the clerk started again.

"We also have the same volume in a different binding, not quite the same work of art, but perhaps another option."

Johnny looked at the other version. This book was in plain binding, but if felt solid and sturdy. It was smaller but thicker than the leather edition. It was a book that could fit in a saddle bag, and read in a cabin or on the trail without harm. A plain cover, not hinting at the fine thoughts and words within. Something like a hidden treasure, discovered when a body never thought it existed. Now that was his brother.

"I'll take it."

He paid the clerk and headed to the door, pausing just before he opened it. He turned to catch the clerk's look of relief quickly shift back to something more courteous. Johnny assumed a mild expression, and let his eyes wander up and around the tall shelves before looking back at the clerk.

"I'll be back sometime," Johnny deadpanned. He set his hat level on his head. "Got to keep up with my Emerson."

Johnny waited anxiously as he handed Scott the gift. This had to be right.

It was right, Johnny could see it in Scott's face, that rare sight of wide open pleasure and surprise.

"Johnny, this is wonderful. I'll treasure this forever."

Scott did treasure the book, reaching for it several days each week. From among the works of Shakespeare, Browning, and Thoreau, Scott repeatedly sought out and savored the words which most touched him down to his soul.

For My Brother Scott

On your 25th Birthday

I hope you have many more good years and birthdays

From your Brother

Johnny

Johnny's own words turned out to be just perfect.