“Son, I was just about your age when my twin brother Ezra and me, we lost our ma. Cora, her name was. She went out to help a neighbor, got caught in a spring blizzard and froze to death. It was me and Ezra that found her, along with the husband of the woman she went to help. Our daddy, that’s your great-grandfather, was off haulin freight to the big mining outfits in the Black Hills. It was better than a week before he got the telegram sayin she had passed on. By that time she was in the ground. Pa died too, three years after Ma. He got kicked by a mule and never got over it. After that, we was on our own. It was a hard thing for us, same as this is a hard thing for you and Ben and Emaline. Aint nothin easy about it. Only way me and Ez got through it, we stuck together. You got Emaline here, she has you, you both have Ben up in Wyoming. You have your old granddad too, if you need me. When school lets out, if those big strapping Swedes can run this place by themselves, you come on up to Wyoming for the summer. Help Ben and Ezra with them Appaloosa horses. If they don’t have enough work, I can find plenty more. I spoke to Emaline. She said it would be good for you, but I believe she’s goin to leave it to you to decide what you want to do.”

“That would be fun, to go up to Wyoming for a while, Grandpa. Jim and Lee, they’re real fine fellas, but they don’t hardly talk none at all except to each other, then they talk Swedish. Me and Emaline, we’re goin to move into town in a week or so, cause she has to go back to work at the diner. I’m going to start at the high school in Scottsbluff next fall.”

“I imagine you’ll have more chances to play ball in town too. Ben says you’re a heckuva ballplayer.”

“I’d play ball every day if I could. I want to be like Pepper Martin.”

“The St. Louis Cardinals are your team, I expect?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you run? You got to run to play the outfield.”

“I’m real quick.”

“And you got to be tough to play ball.”

“Me and Luke Johns, we play burnout.”

“What is burnout, anyhow?”

“You stand about thirty feet apart with no gloves. Then you zing it as hard you can. The other guy has to catch every throw bare hand. First one to cry uncle, he’s the loser.”

“Do you ever cry uncle?”

“Never. My hands get all swole up, but it’s Luke who gives up every time, and he’s fifteen years old and six foot tall.”