As I began reading Robert’s book, I could tell right off that he put his heart and soul into this manuscript. I could feel the words coming off the page, making me wonder how something that had begun as a righteous effort could become something so heinous.
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In 2016, my cousin asked me if I could embellish a new pair of stirrups he had recently purchased. His old ones, which he used for parades and special occasions, were well-worn and needed replacement. Mind you, I had not done any leather work or metal work or worked with stirrups at that time, other than making some horse tack for my own needs.
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Amongst the lush pine-covered hills of southwestern South Dakota lies a quiet, unpretentious valley. A small, crystal-clear stream runs through to the end of the valley and merges into Castle Creek. There are magnificent limestone bluffs adorning the South side with forested steep hills on the North. You’ll find grazing cattle, deer, and elk undisturbed by the predators hiding in the trees. You can travel down the gravel road that runs its length for miles until it wanders into Wyoming.
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I have a friend named Wyatt Earp. Who would name their child Wyatt Earp? Well, if you were an Earp, it would make sense if you wanted your newborn son to have your legendary relative’s name. Wyatt is the great-grandnephew of the legendary Wyatt Earp. To make that even better, he has a home in, you guessed it, Tombstone, Arizona.