Got it! Coke county, right below the damn of E.V.Spence lake. Bob Lee, short for Robert Lee, of course referring to Robert E. Lee,
Knight of the confedercy. I have a whole shelf of books in my personal library on the civil war. One of my favorites : " Marse Robert."
James C. Young 1929
I was going to miss the trappers convention at Uvalde this April, it is so far {300 miles} but as the Dallas area is so crowded and built up, one day I am going to have to move somewhere. And 20 years ago, when all my hounds were alive,
I went to Denver in order to sell roofs for Denver roofing co. in an attempt to get enough money to spend 3-4 months out in west Texas, {the following winter} on a ranch a friend owned near San Angelo. Living in a tent, running traps all day and hunting with my hounds all night, before Cotton Joe, and Suemay who were in their prime, were too old,
I sold $200,000 worth of roofs at 9% comission, and had been in Denver 7 1/2 months, when I got a call one morning and learned that Suemay had died in her dog pen alone in the middle of hunting season.
I thought she had died of a broken heart, and blamed myself,
I left $8,000.00 on the books and came home the next day.
But then Katy died , and three months later Joe died, he got skinny and crazy, I didn't know why. A few days before Joe died he came over to me and looked deep in my eyes, for five full minutes, looking into my soul.
As if to say he loved me and was dying, and he had a good life .
Later I learned he had been poisoned, with arsenic by some brothers named Hall, the very same white trash who tried to kill me 12 years later.
I didn't even know them, they are in prison in Huntsville and I am assured by the Sheriffs dept that they will die there,
The deputy said " Jack, the people in that prison down in Huntsville are the scum of the earth, the worst of the worst, they have their own society, but they won't put up with those Hall brothers, they'll kill them. Raping children, burning their neighbors houses and poisoning Coon Hounds, "Jack, they won't last a year."
So the point is that I never saw San Angelo, loosing my hounds so horribly broke my heart, and when I was in a coma from crashing my motorcycle 12 years later, {I had been poisoned too, with the equivelent of, 250 sleeping pills snuck in my beer}
I saw Joedog. He looked great, but he had tears in his eyes, and he told me telepathically, [God fixed it up somehow] " I can't believe you are still grieving for us, after all these years." "You never got another hound, never set another trap, you never hunted at all ! "You drink beer and ride that motorcycle up to that beer joint way out in the country, you sit on the back porch alone, you never talk to anybody and you don't have any friends, and your getting old, you are missing your life ! "when we all died we all suffered a lot, me most of all. But our suffering is over, Jack you, are the only one suffering now and it hurts me." We would all be there with you if we could, but we can't !" Get you some hounds and go hunting !" And I woke up.
I had been out for five weeks, my motorcycle had been gone for over a month, Its weird being killed, but to me it was worth it. It provided me with a sense of closure to loosing my hounds so horribly. I know they are alright now. The girl who has cut my hair for 15 years when I told her that story, said "Jack, that was not your dog, that was God."
And that makes the experance even more strange.
"Get you some hounds and go hunting! " Joe dog told me. and I woke up.
