Each of the girls had unique personalities. Whenever Roy fed them, he had to make sure he had a handful of alfalfa for each; otherwise, a fight would break out. It's an unpleasant experience having a thousand-pound animal bump into you or step on your foot. While Sally and Molly were great animals, Roy still needed a horse and knew no decent cowboy would be caught riding a mule.
One afternoon, after bathing, shaving and wearing clean clothes, Roy saddled Sally and rode out to the Johansson's farm. Getting cleaned up, and fresh duds, wasn't a ritual Roy engaged in every day, but he wanted to leave a good impression since he was transacting for a horse with strangers. As he rode away, Molly called out with several heehaws.
When he arrived, Sara Johansson was working on their windmill, covered in grease and rust. Two young boys with blond hair ran throughout the yard playing cowboy and Indians. Dismounting Sally, Roy walked the last fifty yards. Just as Roy approached Sara, he touched the brim of his hat and dipped his head just slightly. Roy introduced himself.
"Good afternoon Ma'am, my name is Roy Folsom. I live," Roy turned and pointed southwest toward a mountain over his shoulder, "a few miles over there. I heard from Sheriff Dinkins you're selling a young filly."
Sara wiped sweat from her brow, replacing it with grease from the back of her hand. Roy looked down and smiled. He found the juxtaposition of this attractive and demure woman with oil on her face rather humorous. Sara studied Roy but said nothing. Sara's reserved demeanor troubled Roy. He was also unfamiliar with female temperament and suddenly felt nervous. Despite her size, she portrayed a formidable presence, unwilling to tolerate nonsense.
"Perhaps your husband is around and I could speak with him?"
Sara stood firm, holding a large wrench in her hand. Her feet were apart, and she kept a safe distance. "Billy, Abe, come over here, now." The tone of her voice was cold and harsh.
Roy pushed his hat back and removed his gloves. "Is this the Johansson farm, Ma'am?"
There was no response as Sara glared at Roy. Something was not right, and Roy felt uncomfortable. Looking around, he saw a young colt in the corral next to its mother. Both animals were of excellent stock and the mother stood a good fifteen hands tall. Putting on his gloves, Roy turned to leave but stopped briefly. He called over his shoulder.
"Just have your husband contact me when he gets back. I'd like to buy the filly if possible. I'll pay for her in cash." Roy then started to leave.