Unorthodoxy in the Piney Woods

Miss Mary communicated a sincerity and interest in the person she was talking with whether rough millwright, would-be sophisticate, fast-talking drummer or taciturn stranger. That genuiness was a rare gift Solon had learned to appreciate during his years of meeting and dealing with all sorts of folk. He liked this woman. She had style and grace.

"Beautiful Christmas tree, Miss Mary," Solon complimented his hostess as he began to walk with letter in hand to the small writing desk half way down the hall.

"Thank you. Christmas is but five days away and we must be festive, don't you know." Solon nodded in answer and salute. He looked at the letter curiously as he walked the fifteen feet to the mahogany desk. Lou would have wired if there was an emergency. He's received a few letters from her over the years of his traveling. They were not numerous and usually were her musings or wonderings about the boys, stock, crops and such.

Taking a deep, deep breath as he settled into the wonderful fitting chair, he sighed and let out an equally deep breath. The livery had not had much to chose from in riding horses. He'd chosen a big ten-year-old gray-white wide backed mare, "Ghost". Ghost was an easy ride but he had traversed near two hundred miles all around the "Free State of Jones" - Jones County in south Mississippi. "Ghost would have been a fine mount if I were thirty," he thought. "But I'm not thirty. What is it now, sixty-five?" he added in reflection and wonderment.