| The High Plains, the Golden Spread, the Panhandle country, whichever description you should use, has always been depicted as a dry, windy, parched country. This is largely true. But after cowboying and ranching in that country for thirty years, I seem to remember a few, very few in fact, years that it rained, the grass grew, the wind didn't blow quite as hard, and it was a virtual cattle paradise. Since this is fiction, to be dealt with at the author's discretion, it is only natural to portray one of the better years. It was strictly the author's prerogative. |
| All physical land descriptions exist somewhere but have been moved and renamed for the author's convenience. Even the high mesa with the solitary grave exists. Its location, for reasons of privacy to the landowner, shall remain known only to those who already know of its existence. |
| The great state land raids by outsiders happened in the 1960s. Most of the land eventually reverted back to the state and the original leasers at a later date, quietly. There was something sinister, if not illegal, going on that the author was never smart enough to understand. Only now, using the tried and true veterinarian S.W.A.G. ("scientific wild-ass guess") method, do I venture to speculate. |
| It is aggravating to the author that the term "cowboy" is used to describe any wild, crazy, or foolish act or person in the world. The term "cowboy" should in my opinion be looked on as a professional occupation, and any man who wears the title be seen for what he is: a man who knows the occupation and has special qualities, i.e., wild, crazy, foolish, Hark! Perhaps I was wrong earlier. I do know that I would be proud if my epitaph read only: ''A Cowboy." |
| Although this work is not autobiographical, similarities exist between the author and the storyteller, Frank. This arises from the literary guidelines that say that one should write only about what he knows. The author is not Frank, but he knows him, and was there to watch it happen. |
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