He would always tell us stories when we were little about all kinds of stuff. We didn’t know if the stories were true or whether he was just good at...telling a yarn. Up home, we used to sit around a campfire and sing songs. It was just so nice, our family and friends sitting around a campfire and listening to grandpa sing songs, and tell his stories. He was an ornery old fart that always had something to say. He told me he had a little filly he wanted me to meet while we were here. People were. The hall just inside the front door was large and spacious, with black-and-white tiles on the floor and a magnificent staircase leading up to the first floor. As they walked, Derek got a vague impression of passing through rooms with oak-paneled walls with paintings of men in various state of undress and powerful looking women standing high above them. The wall lamps were of twisted wrought iron and surrounded by dark fabric screens. The carpeted floors were plush and deep. As much as he. More

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