West to the Dream

By Lonnie Magee

Thanks to everyone who helped me get this book to the publisher.

Special thanks to my wife, Lynne, who helped with the proofreading and who put up with me while I did rewrites.

This book seemed to write itself. I hope my readers enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating the characters and story.

This is the story of a young man who had a dream of going West and lived to fulfill the dream. He starts as a greenhorn and ends up a true mountain man. Ride along and enjoy the trip West and the adventures thereafter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532015601

Book preview

WEST TO THE DREAM

LONNIE MAGEE

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WEST TO THE DREAM

Copyright © 2017 Lonnie Magee.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-1559-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-1560-1 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 02/06/2017

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 My knife and Hawk

Chapter 2 Slash Returns

Chapter 3 The Adventure West

Chapter 4 A Lesson in Life

Chapter 5 Almost Home

Chapter 6 Shaping Our Dream

Chapter 7 The First Painting

Chapter 8 Supplies For Our First Winter

Chapter 9 Looking for Gold

Chapter 10 A Lost Miner Found

Chapter 11 Chee’s Portrait and Our Land Deal

Chapter 12 Land, Gold and Chee

Chapter 13 Smallpox

Chapter 14 Sleep and Recovery

Chapter 15 Rest and Relaxation

Chapter 16 Courtship and Winter

Chapter 17 Light and the First Showing

Chapter 18 Favor for a Friend and More Work

Chapter 19 Plans for the Future

Chapter 20 Thanksgiving with the Girls

Chapter 21 Chee’s Surprise for Christmas

Chapter 22 Our Girls and Christmas

Chapter 23 Preparing to Move

Chapter 24 Moving to Our New Home

Chapter 25 Oranges for my Friends

Chapter 26 Big Sales

Chapter 27 Ambush

Chapter 28 The Trip to St Louis

Chapter 29 The Trip to Chicago

Chapter 30 Home With Our Family

Chapter 31 Jess’s Surprise

Chapter 32 A Trip to Santa Fe and a Family

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to everyone who helped me get this book to the publisher.

Special Thanks:

To my wife Lynne who helped with the proof reading and put up with me while I did rewrites.

This book seemed to write itself. I hope my readers enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating the characters and story.

INTRODUCTION

This is the story of a young man who had a dream of going West and lived to fulfill the dream.

He starts as a greenhorn and ends up a true mountain man.

Ride along and enjoy the trip West and the adventures thereafter.

My father read everything about the west he could get his hands on. My mother smiled and listened to the descriptions of the country he read to her.

My father ran a general store here in our small Iowa town. He had been born here after his father had come here from New York and opened a general store. He’d met my grandmother and married her after a short courtship. My father had been born a year or so later.

My grandparents were both gone now and my father had the itch, as my mother said. My father wanted to sell the store and move down to St. Louis. That was where things were happening.

I was sixteen going on seventeen when he came and told my mother he’d sold the store and we were moving to St. Louis. The folks who bought the store bought the house as well. He contacted a gentleman in St. Louis and bought a place for the business. We would find a place to live when we got there. My father wanted to be gone in two days time. We had two large young teams of Shire draft horses and a large wagon sitting at our small barn. It was now clear to me that my father had been planning on this move for a while.

My mother sighed and began to pack our things. My father wanted to be in St. Louis before winter set in. He planned on opening a trading post to deal in furs and such with the mountain men who came in to the city to sell their furs and such.

Two days later we were ready to go. My mother carefully packed everything she wanted to take along. My father said we were starting a new life. I looked at it as a new adventure. I’d slept under the wagon at night and had looked forward to every day. The big teams plodded along taking us further south every day.

I took my drawing pad and was always seeing something to sketch as we went along. I’d always liked to draw and have something to look back on later. I’d have my pad almost full by the time we reached our new home.

After a month or so we finally reached the river bank across from our new home. It took my breath away. I saw every sort of vessel that would float either tied up or moving up and down the wide river. Men seemed to be moving everywhere along the riverbank. I was amazed at everything that was going on. The city was far larger than I had expected. I saw my father smile as he hugged my mother. At last he was happy. Here would be a new start and a chance to make our fortune.

We lucked out. The large river ferry was just pulling up to our side of the river. We watched as all sorts of folks got off and went on their way. I saw my mother’s look of distaste when she noticed some of the folks were rather dirty.

My father paid the gentleman our fare, and then slowly eased our team and wagon onto the ferry. I was amazed at the size of the river. We were all wide eyed as we were slowly pulled across it. We saw all sorts of folks and heard several different languages being spoken. Cargo was being unloaded while a few feet away other freight was being loaded. Folks were dressed in all sorts of clothes. I was amazed at the number of keel boats loaded with furs being unloaded. For a seventeen year old boy this was a very exciting thing to see!

We saw our first real mountain men. They were dressed in buckskins, wore flat crowned felt hats and one even had what I assumed to be an eagle feather in his. They were both watching their furs being unloaded as they leaned on their large rifles.

Son, we’re here at last. We’ll be dealing with the fur trappers or mountain men as some folks like to call them. We’ll drive to our new store and see if my supplies have arrived then go about finding a home.

We drove up the river bank through deep ruts. It was plain to see the road leading up from the river was well used. My father drove the big teams through the traffic and finally found the building he had bought. We stopped long enough to check out the building then went on to a building which said Homes for Sale. My mother and father went inside while I stayed with the wagon. I didn’t mind at all. There were just far too many things to see.

I saw pack horses, mules, wagons and such going both up and down the street. It seemed that everyone was in a hurry to get to somewhere. I was watching everything going on when my mother and father came back.

Ben, don’t stare. It’s not polite.

My mother had been a school teacher when my father had met her. She had taught me to read, write and do my sums. She had been raised back east and wanted me to behave like a gentleman. I’d try to do my best but would soon learn this new country had different ways of doing things.

There were two separate parts of town. One, down near the river, was where the dock crews and boatmen lived. The other side of town was for the business folks and folks with money lived. As long as the folks from the river stayed down in their area there was no trouble. We soon found out that the river folks were a rough bunch. There were shootings and stabbings almost every night. My folks had found a house a few blocks from my father’s business. We drove over to the house and began unloading our things. The house was nice and had a small barn and lot for the big teams and wagon. We went to work and soon had all of our things unloaded and placed where my mother wanted them.

For the next week I helped my father in the store. I was amazed at the things we unpacked from the large wooden crates. They contained powder, lead, traps of all sorts, and anything my father thought the mountain men might need. We’d worked long hours and finally had everything in place. My father had hired a gentleman to paint a sign saying Briteman and Son Trading Co.

The next morning we opened for business. Our first customer was a gentleman dressed in buckskin. He looked over everything and asked my father the prices. My father had informed him we might be slightly higher than some folks but everything was of first quality. The gentleman began to put together what he thought he would need for the coming year. My father had also told him we’d pay top dollar for good quality furs in the coming year. By the end of the day my father had been quite pleased with our first day of business.

My mother had gone shopping and had been shocked by the language some of the teamsters used while working their teams through the crowded streets. My father had told her we were in a new and different sort of world. He figured things would improve as the time passed.

For the next month or so I helped my father every day. I learned all about the different types of traps and their use. It seemed the word had gotten out among the trappers that we had good merchandise and would buy furs from them the following year. My father opened early and stayed late, he wanted the business to grow and prosper.

I had been in awe of the men who came in to trade. They may have been rough talking but the stories they told about the mountains and their adventures were something I didn’t want to miss when they were in the store visiting with other trappers.

I’d listened to stories about beaver, Indians, and the harsh weather. I heard that if you had a good year you had to look out for crooks who would try and steal your furs on your way back to our city. Some of the stories I’d heard were hard to believe but it made no difference to a young boy. It was all exciting and it started me to thinking about the country out there. The one thing the men all agreed on was that you had to have a Hawkin rifle.

Every now and then a man would come along who was different from the rest. My favorite was a small middle aged man everyone called Slash. I assumed it was because of a scar that ran across his face from just below his eye down to his chin. First off he was always clean, quiet spoken, and mannerly. He carried a large knife in his belt across his front with a Tomahawk in a loop on his left side. His rifle was always either in his hand or close by. The first time he’d come into our store he’d brought in several bundles of top grade hides. He’d dealt with my father and was satisfied with the price my father had paid. I’d asked a gentleman where Slash lived.

Ben, I’m not sure and I’m sure enough not going to follow him. He got that scar from a Crow warrior and his friends some years back. I got the story from a Crow who was there and was thrilled to get away. It seems Slash is some kind of a bad fellow with that knife and hawk he carries. The Crow told me a Blackfoot woman found him packing snow on his wounds and stitched him up.

He seems to be a nice fellow.

Oh he is. If he doesn’t like someone they have a tendency to not come around while he’s in town. He is a friend to a bunch of folks and is always ready to help if he can. He heard about a fellow being laid up in an Indian village to the north of him. He took the feller a saddle mule and enough food to get back where he could get some help. The feller will never forget him coming to his rescue. Slash said it was only because one of the fat squaws was about to put a halter on him.

He seems to always have his hand on or near the big knife he carries.

Ben, that knife has saved him more than once and he takes comfort in knowing where it is.

His knife seems to have a stag horn handle that appears to be almost worn smooth. The blade must be close to twelve inches long.

It is, and is razor sharp. Like I said, Slash is a fine feller but no one wants him as an enemy.

Later that afternoon I was working on a sketch of a mule when someone walked up behind me.

That’s a nice sketch, almost looks like he’s breathing.

He belongs to a gentleman who comes in quite often.

Would his name happen to be Terry?

Yes sir. It is. Do you know him?

Yes, I do. Fact is, I gave him the mule after an Indian ran a war lance through his leg.

Excuse me sir, but doesn’t everyone call you Slash?

They do. That is if they are a friend.

Sir, I didn’t mean to insult you. I’ve seen you here in the store and never heard your real name.

No offense taken, son. My real name is William Starks. I have to remind myself of it every now and again. By the way, you tell Mr. Terry I said hello next time you see him.

I’ll do that, sir. He comes in and tells me stories about how it was living in the mountains and trying to get along with the Indians.

He would have still been there if a young squaw hadn’t taken a shine to him. A brave took offense and sure enough tried to kill him. Darn near did it, too. Son, don’t believe all the stories some of the boys tell. No man wants to go up against a lion or a bear with a knife unless there is no way out. I’ve seen folks who have tried it and they were a mess. That is the ones who have lived through it.

I could not help but admire the Hawkin that Slash had by his side. It was a thing of beauty. It had what appeared to be ivory inlay in the stock and forearm. He had explained to me a man had better take care of his weapon. You never knew when your life just might depend on it. Before he left he told me I had a real talent and should work on it. He said he figured the fur trade might last another few years and would be gone.

A few days later, I was busy working on a sketch of a wolf when a blacksmith from down the street walked in and offered to buy the sketch.

Sir, I’d rather work a swap.

Alright, what is it you want, Ben.

I want a knife. Not just any knife but a good one.

We had walked to his shop where he laid out a half dozen knives but none were what I wanted.

Ben, I know what you want but I’ll have to have another picture.

And what would that be, Mr. Auston?

I’d like to have a picture done of my daughter.

Let’s see what you have to offer.

Mr. Auston had gone to a wooden cabinet and taken out an old wool blanket. He unrolled one corner and took out a knife that was the exact match to the one Slash carried. I knew at once I had to have the knife.

Mr. Auston, when can I sketch your daughter? I really want that knife.

I’ll have her here in an hour or so, Ben.

I’ll be back in an hour with my things.

CHAPTER 1

My knife and Hawk

I walked back to my father’s store and put everything I thought I might need to do the sketch into a bag. I helped my father until time to go. I had never done this kind of work before. I knew the Auston girl and hoped I could do the job. There was a lot of difference in a pretty young girl and a mountain man in buckskins.

I found Mrs. Auston and her daughter waiting on me. I had the young girl sit in a chair where I could get the sunlight just right. I took out my sketch pad and went to work. I’d been surprised when things began to come together a short time later. Both Mr. and Mrs. Auston looked at the sketch and nodded their approval. I was pleased with the sketch and told Mr. Auston I’d work on the sketch tonight at home. I’d try and have it back to him tomorrow.

I took the sketch home and put it on the desk in my room. I’d gotten some colored pastels a couple of weeks before, and planned on doing the portrait with them. I’d been playing with them for a week or so and figured it was time I tried them. I went back to the store and helped my father until closing time. My mother had our supper ready when we got home. I had my supper then went to my room. I had some work to do.

I laid out a piece of the special paper I’d bought for use with the new pastel sticks. After one false start the picture began to come to life. By bed time, I knew I could finish the portrait in an hour or so in the morning. I got up early and put the final touches on the portrait. My mother came into my room to call me to breakfast.

Oh my goodness, it’s the Auston girl. I love the background you put behind her.

I hope the Austons like it. Mr. Auston and I have worked a swap. He has a knife I want. The portrait will be payment for it.

Ben, they will love it. You actually captured the soft and tender look in her eyes.

I went to work at the store and waited until I knew Mr. Auston would have his shop open. I told my father I had a delivery to make and would be back shortly. I took a thin sheet of paper and put it over the portrait before I rolled the portrait up and tied a string around it. I signed the portrait then began the walk to Mr. Auston’s blacksmith’s shop. I found he was busy hammering on a horse shoe. He pitched the horse shoe into a tub of water to cool when he saw me waiting. He smiled then wiped his hands on a rag he took from his hip pocket.

Ben, are you done already?

I’m not sure sir. I’ll need your word to tell me that.

I untied the string and rolled the portrait out on a large workbench. I heard him gasp when he saw what I had done.

Oh my Lord, Ben. It’s fantastic. It’s far more than I expected. You even captured her eyes.

Mr. Auston walked to the cabinet and took out the knife I’d only dreamed of having. He reached back into the cabinet and taken out a heavy leather scabbard and slipped the big knife into it.

Ben, I have a feeling you don’t plan on taking over your father’s store.

No, sir. I want to go to the mountains before they are spoiled. I want to paint them and see if they will sell. I plan on asking Slash if he will guide me in another year or so. I’ve sold some of my sketches and have put the money back. I hope to have enough to outfit myself and two more by this time next year.

I figured you had something planned like that. I feel you’ll need something else to go along with the knife.

I watched as he slowly unrolled the blanket and uncovered a beautiful Tomahawk. He took the Hawk as he called it and handed it to me.

You’ll need this, but you’ll also need to do a lot of practicing with it before you leave. Now come with me and I’ll show you how to throw the knife and hawk. I have a place you can practice.

I followed the man out the back door of the shop. He pointed to a huge slab of cottonwood that hung on two chains between two trees. It had been there awhile. It looked as if hundreds of knives had been thrown into it.

Ben, the knife is still a little large for you but you’ll grow into it. First off you only want it to turn over once from this distance. I’ll show you how to make the throw then you try it.

I watched as Mr. Auston put the knife in his hand then suddenly make his throw. I was amazed to see the big knife buried a good three inches into the slab. He retrieved the knife from the slab and handed it to me. I balanced the knife in my hand and after taking a breath made my throw. I was shocked when I saw the big knife suddenly stuck in the slab. It was two feet low but it was stuck.

Ben, it is a little low but you’ll learn. Now let’s try the Hawk. You’ll find it’s a different throwing motion.

I watched as the big smith took the Hawk and made his throw. It was a shorter throwing motion but the Hawk was suddenly stuck in the slab. He handed the Hawk to me and gave me instructions. My first throw was awful. Finally I got things right and was thrilled. I had to move my hand forward on the handle to get it to turn right. I managed to make three good throws and was thrilled.

Ben, you’ll make a hand with practice. You can come here to practice anytime you want. Now, would you do me a favor?

What do you need?

Would you go tell my wife to come over here to the shop? I want her to see your work before you leave.

I went to the Auston’s house and told his wife he wanted her to see the portrait. I’d remember this day for a long time. Mrs. Auston cried when the portrait was uncovered. She hugged her husband then gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and told me thanks. Mr. Auston sent the portrait home with her then made me a rawhide loop to hang the Hawk on my belt. I’d never forget the walk home with the big knife setting across my middle behind my belt. I found myself rubbing the handle of the big knife like Slash did. My folks were both thrilled with my trading. I finished helping my dad the rest of the day. Before the day was over, I had two more clients who wanted me to do portraits of family members. It seemed the Auston family had shown their portrait to a bunch of folks.

Over the next year it seemed I always had several portraits to work on. My father allowed me to set up in an area of the store to work on my portraits. It was a draw for people. Folks came in just to see what I was working on. While they were in the store they most times found something they needed. I found that with time I became a lot more accomplished in my work. I did a bunch of pencil drawings for different mountain men who came in to trade with my father. It was fun to listen to the stories they had to tell while I worked on their drawings. It seemed most of the men either knew or claimed to know of Slash. It seemed they all had the same opinion of him. He was a fine fellow.

I worked every day with the knife and the Hawk. At first it was hard to get things right. I finally figured out I was simply trying too hard. When I relaxed I began to improve and things began to improve. Now I did all sorts of drills. I jumped right, rolled and then threw the knife. I rolled again and threw the Hawk. Finally I decided to try throwing the Hawk left handed. For the first month, I made a miserable attempt. I did not give up and slowly but surely it started to come around. Now I was able to throw the Hawk with either hand and was enjoying myself.

Ben, you’ve come a long ways over the last few months. I’ve watched you every day and wondered why you wanted to throw the Hawk left handed but then I figured it out. You want to be able to defend yourself in case you couldn’t use your right hand. I doubt Slash could do any better.

For some reason I figure he can. I figure he may even be able to throw his knife with either hand as well.

He may but I’d not be so sure. How is your plan working out?

Things are coming along well. My father pays me a salary at the store and my paintings and drawings are all selling well. I’ve bought a bunch of brushes and oil paints. I really want to paint in oils on canvas. I’m really enjoying learning to use them. It’s a real challenge.

I’ll bet it is. I don’t know how you do it.

I have a talent for drawing like you do for working the steel and making such fine weapons. It’s a God given talent that no one can explain. You take the raw steel and know when to heat and when to cool, you see inside the steel like I see a person’s face on the canvas. We both see things that other folks can’t.

Ben, I think you’re right. I’d never thought of it that way, maybe we’re more alike than I thought. Now come into the shop, I have something for you.

I followed him into the shop where he handed me a new Arkansas stone to keep my knife and Hawk sharp. He’d swapped a gentleman a belt knife for three stones. He had sold two and wanted me to have the other. He even gave me a leather strap to put the final edge on my weapons after using the stones. I told him next time he came down to the store I wanted to do a sketch of his face. I had already done a sketch of him working but had not done a sketch of his face. I wanted to see how I could do in oils.

On the way back to the store I began to think.

Would I have enough money to make the trip west when Slash showed up next time?

I’d just have to work harder. I wanted to paint the mountains and valleys as well as the wildlife. For some reason I figured they would sell back east. If I couldn’t sell them then I could always come back to the store and be a clerk. That was if I was still alive. I knew for a fact several of the men who had traded with my father had been put under as the mountain men called it. The Indians weren’t the only thing the mountain men had to worry about. There was the weather, lions, bears and many other things too numerous to mention. I knew about the chance I would be taking but didn’t mind, I just had to see the mountains.

I’d become friends with two young men. The first was Larry Croft a recent transplant from Ireland. He was a stout built gentleman who worked on the river doing whatever sort of work he could find. He was a stone mason by trade but was having trouble finding a job in his field. He was soft spoken and easy going. He’d introduced me to a friend of his Jess Cauldwell. Jess was a tall well built young man who was carpenter. He, like Larry, was new in town and was finding getting work was hard. He rented sleeping space in the loft of a stable while Larry slept on the river bank under an overturned boat. We’d spent several evenings a week together sitting around an open fire on the river bank talking. I liked the two boys and told them about my plans to go west. I asked them if they would like to go along if I could work a deal with Slash to guide us. Both of boys said they were ready to go. It would be a real adventure for them.

We talked and planned our adventure. I knew the boys didn’t have any money so I would have to take care of getting all the supplies and such. My mother knew I had my father’s wandering ways. She began boxing things she thought I might need, skillets, pots, pans and such. I thanked her and went to work myself. I began to store things in a corner of the barn. I had a chance to buy a real Hawkin rifle from a man who had started west and found out it was not for him. The weather and sleeping on the ground had whipped him. He had come into my father’s store looking for work so he could eat. He wanted to get back east and stay there. The stories he’d read had not prepared him for the real life out on the vast prairie lands one had to cross on the way out to the mountains. I bought the Hawkin for less than a third of what it was worth. I took the Hawkin to the house and spent several hours cleaning it.

I bought powder and lead and took it just outside town and began to fire the rifle. Like the knife and Hawk at first I didn’t do much good but I quickly learned. I also found I could make some extra money by hunting. I managed to shoot deer and then sell them to folks down by the river. I used the extra money to buy more supplies I thought we might need.

The boys managed to pick up things to add to the stash. Larry picked up things down at the river. Things that got bent or broken in shipment could be fixed. We worked at fixing the items then sold them at a good price and put the money away.

My father told me if I was going to go west, I could have the teams and wagon. We went to work on the wagon making sure everything was in good order. Jess built boxes that we could store things in inside the wagon. He managed to get a new set of bows to put on the wagon with a new canvas tarp to cover them.

Finally, we had everything we thought we’d need. Now we only had to wait for Slash to show up and see if he would guide us. We were anxious to get started. Suddenly the waiting became the hardest thing to put up with. What if Slash wouldn’t take us? We’d have wasted our time and labor. All we could do was wait and see.

CHAPTER 2

Slash Returns

The next morning I was sitting in my corner of the store working on a sketch I’d made down at the river. I was studying the sketch when a voice said the sketch was very good. I knew who it was before I turned around, I knew the voice.

Mr. Starks, you’re back early. I wasn’t expecting you for another year.

I had some problems going home last time. Some pesky Sioux jumped me and managed to get off with two of my mules. The mules had a lot of things my woman wanted and had to do without this last winter. I’ve had a good winter so I came back to get the things she needed. That woman has been with me for over twenty years and by dang, I want to see her happy.

I can understand that sir. Sir, I need to talk to you. That is if you have time.

Before Slash could answer we heard a gentleman cursing over at the counter.

You’re trying to cheat me, those pelts are all prime.

Sir, they are not, the hair is already beginning to come loose.

Slash had walked over and checked the pelts.

These pelts are not prime, sir. They were never finished in the tanning process. That’s why the hair is coming loose but that’s just one question. Just what did you do to Hank Thomas? These pelts all have his mark on them.

Are you accusing me of stealing these pelts?

Well, I’m sure Hank didn’t give them to you.

The man turned and took a step towards the door. From where I sat I saw him reach into the wide sash he wore for a belt and take out a small pistol. I heard him cock the pistol and suddenly spin around. I reacted without thinking and watched as my big knife sailed through the air and sank into the man’s shoulder. The pistol fell from his hand and fired when it hit the floor. The gentleman fell to the floor screaming then passed out.

Son, would you run and get a doctor? I sure don’t want this feller to die before he gets hung. Hank Thomas was a friend of mine.

"I rushed out of the store and went for the doctor. I was lucky and found the doctor in his office. I told him about what had happened and he followed me back to the store and went to work. Slash had told a policeman what had happened. The policeman had waited on the doctor who asked a couple of men to carry the wounded man to his office. He’d said as soon as the doctor had finished with the man he would take the man to the jail and file murder charges. As the men left I saw Slash walk towards me smiling.

Son, that was close. Too close for comfort. He’d have nailed me for sure. Thanks

Slash, it wasn’t a good throw. I had aimed at his chest. He turned before the knife reached him.

Son, it was a good throw. He’ll be lucky if they don’t have to take the arm off. Here is your knife son. I wiped the blood off it.

Thanks Slash. I’m just glad I could help. Do you think we can have a talk now?

Young man I’ll take time. Do you like pie?

Yes sir, I sure do.

Good, let’s go get some pie and talk afterwards.

We walked down the street to a small café and went inside where I found out something else about Slash. We ordered coffee and pie. When the young lady brought the pie, Slash stopped her and told her he wanted a whole pie, not a piece. I couldn’t believe he ate the whole pie and had three cups of coffee.

Now son, just what do you want to talk to me about?

"Sir, I want to go west and paint the mountains and valleys before other folks get it all