We’d camped back in the Yellowstone, October 2010. The rain changed into freezin’ snow, we sure weren’t mountain men.

It was summer of my sixteenth year. We’d rounded up the mules. Our wranglers worked from dawn to dusk. One said, “We must be fools.”

In 1864, Idaho was a territory, but the lines were pretty rough. That was OK, though, since there were only two things people wanted to know: …

It was summer of my sixteenth year. We’d rounded up the mules. Our wranglers worked from dawn to dusk. One said, “We must be fools.”