"What's this?" Dillon asked, holding something.
I stopped what I was doing to look at it. "It's the leather apron that my great-grand dad used when he made horse shoes,or when he shod a horse." "What about this?" he asked.
`How am I supposed to box stuff for an antique sale if he keeps stopping me?' I
thought, as I looked up, puzzled at what he held. "A harness, I think," I told him, going over toward him for a better look. "Too small," he said, as he examined it at eye level.
I took it from him, and turned it this way and that way. It's made of soft calf
leather . . . one long strip, with three small strips . . . one on each end and
one in the middle;little buckles were on the end of them, with fine delicate gold stitching and the word MINE stamped on the main strip.
Dillon's gaze was on me as I glanced back at him.
"Ewwwwwwwwww, gross, I'm not touching that," he stated, going back to his box.
I smiled to myself, `Oh yes you will.' I thought, and shoved it in my pocket.