text: Paulie walked into the stable and said, "I'm tryin' to get west, and I need a horse, but I got so little money. What's the cheapest horse you got?".
  
  The liveryman looked at Paulie with his winning smile and said, "Well, youngster, I got this bay a coupla days ago. Man riding him said he was in a fight with some Cheyenne Indians, and they shot the horse, whether accidentally or on purpose he didn't know. Anyway, the shot took a big gouge out of his rump. The guy wanted another horse right away. So I offered him $20 for this horse, and he took it. I could let you have him for $25 if you don't ride him for a while. He can carry a small load, but he can't carry a man yet."
  
  "Is that wound gonna heal up?" Paulie asked. "I don't know much about horses."
  
  "Of course it is," the liveryman said. "You put Pratt's Healing Ointment on it morning and night, and in two or three weeks, that horse'll be good as new."
  
  "Is he a good horse?" Paulie asked.
  
  "Judging by his teeth, he's about six or seven years old, near as I can tell, son, but I'd say he's a good horse," the liveryman said. "I could keep him, heal 'im up and sell 'im for $75 or more, but if you want 'im, it's $25. I don't know why I'm doin' this deal, but occasionally the soft spot in my heart overwhelms me."
  
  Paulie stuck out his hand and the liveryman took it and they shook. Paulie said, "Thank you and your kind heart, sir."
  
  "You'll need to buy some panniers," the liveryman said, "and I wouldn't put more'n 65 or 70 pounds on the horse for at least three weeks."
  
  When Paulie walked out of the stable with the horse, Grit smiled, which felt strange for him. He'd not had anything to smile about for a long time, but Paulie had talked that liveryman into what looked like a good horse.
  
  He met Paulie in the alley behind the general store. "Looks like a good horse," Grit said. "How'd you talk the stable owner outta him?"
  
  "It's a long story," Paulie said, "but the horse is injured." Paulie pointed to the deep gouge across the horse's hindquarter."
  
  "Oh my," Grit said. "Looks like somebody shot 'im."
  
  "Yeah, but I got 'im for $25," Paulie said, "and the stable owner says we can't ride 'im, but it's okay for him to carry 60 or 70 pounds. All we have to do is buy some panniers at the store. We also gotta get a can of Pratt's Healing Ointment and put it on the horse's rump morning and night. He says the horse will heal up fine in three weeks."
  
  Grit looked at Paulie and said, "You've done right well, Paulie. We were gonna walk anyway. Let's get the panniers and load up. And I got enough left over to buy us another Winchester."
  
  "Yeah, I'd feel better if we had two," Paulie said. "And we could use a good bucksaw and a handsaw too."
  
  "You're right," Grit said. "Plus wedges and a couple of sledge hammers. Let's see if they have what we need."
  
  "We'll need the saw to make the doors to the cabin," Paulie said.
  
  Grit looked at Paulie and said, "You're a right smart young man, you know that?"
  
  "Sometimes I am," Paulie said with a smile.
  
  That very afternoon, they left Omaha following the Missouri River north. They passed through Yankton four days later, and two days after, they stopped at Fort Randall.
  
  A sergeant named Seamus O'Doyle greeted them at the fort and asked where they were going.
  
  "We're lookin' for a place on the river to cut and sell firewood to the riverboats," Grit said.
  
  "You'll have to be sure and get beyond the Yankton Reservation," O'Doyle said.
  
  "Okay, but how're we gonna know?" Grit asked.
  
  "It's pretty well marked on the trail," O'Doyle said. "Beyond that, you can settle anywhere up there. Lots of that land can be homesteaded."
  
  On the ninth day, they were well beyond the reservation when they saw where some woodcutters—Grit assumed it was men from one or two of the riverboat crews—had been cutting trees along the edge of the river, and Grit said, "That looks like a good place for us to set up our business, or somewhere close by."
  
  "Where are we?" Paulie asked.
  
  "Somewhere up in the Dakota Territory," Grit said. "Let's walk five miles on up the river. We can come back if this is the best place." Farther on, they found where the forest thickened with hardwood trees of all kinds, bur oaks, maples, beech and elm trees, black walnut and huge cottonwood trees. They scouted around and found a small spring up on the slope above the river.
  
  "We could clean this spring out and have a good water source right next to the cabin we need to build," Grit said. "The water from the spring is a lot cleaner than water from the river."
  
  "Yeah, it's a perfect place," Paulie agreed.
  
  "We'll start cuttin' right away, and we'll stack up the logs at the side of the river. The river channel is on this east side, so the boats will have to come close to this shore, and the river here has nary a bend for a mile or so, and the other boats will be able to see an anchored boat and either stop or go around."
  
  "I'll unpack the horse and stake him out to graze," Paulie said.
  
  "Good, I'll take my axes and one of the rifles and start felling trees," Grit said.
  
  As Paulie grabbed his two three-pound axes, he heard Grit's ax strike the trunk of a tree. He grabbed his axes and ran down toward the river, where he saw Grit sinking his ax into a large bur oak.
  
  "Some of the toughest wood there is," Grit said. "When the tree comes down, I'll attack the big limbs and you get the smaller ones, then we'll start sawin' the trunk."
  
  Within an hour, Paulie stopped and looked at his hands. "Got blisters," he said.
  
  "Your hands'll toughen up," Grit said. "I knew it would happen. That's why I bought these for ya." Grit handed him a pair of cowhide gloves.
  
  "Thanks. This'll make it a lot less painful," Paulie said.
  
  As night came on, they stopped and pulled out their supplies for dinner. It turned out Paulie was a pretty good cook, and he'd taken over the chore. While he cooked, Grit grabbed the horse and staked him out in a better spot.
  
  Paulie cooked side pork before chopping up peaches and mixing them in the pancake batter. Before long, he had a dozen pancakes, and they served them with syrup, slabs of side pork and cups of strong coffee with a little lump of sugar.
  
  "This is great, Paulie," Grit said.
  
  They ate together sitting on a log about two feet in diameter and six feet long that they'd dragged into the camp site.
  
  After swallowing a mouthful of pancakes with syrup, Grit said, "Once we get the river bank cleared and a big pile of logs, we'll be ready for business. Then maybe we can spend a day or two laying the foundation for our cabin. We'll cut logs most of the day, then work on the cabin in the evenings." For the first time in his life, Grit was feeling excited to build something for himself and Paulie.
  
  The next morning, Grit spent a couple of hours with the handsaw and made a push-pedal holder for the grindstone he'd bought. He hooked it all together and when he pressed on the pedal board underneath with his foot, it activated the round stone by a wooden arm on the side, and he could use both hands to sharpen his axes. Some of the woodsmen in Michigan had shown him how to build such a contraption, and it made sharpening the axes so much easier.
  
  When he was done, he threw his ax overhand at a tree about 15 feet away, and it plunged into the tree and hung there. When he turned around, Paulie was staring at him with an open mouth. "How did you do that?" he asked.
  
  "Oh, takes some practice," Grit said, "but we used to have contests all the time in Michigan."
  
  "Would you teach me to do it?" Paulie asked.
  
  "Yeah, sure, get your three-pound axes, and I'll show you how to throw 'em."
  
  When Paulie came back with his axes, Jake said, "Easiest way to throw is two-handed. You'll wanna put your dominant hand on the bottom and your other hand on top, so since you're left-handed, you'll do the opposite of me. Then you rock back bringing the ax over your head and rock forward releasing the ax just as you start to come forward."
  
  Grit swung the ax forward and it flipped through the air three turns and the point stuck perfectly in an elm tree. "Go ahead and try it."
  
  Paulie did it as he'd been shown, and his ax stuck in the tree just like Grit's. "Did you see that? I actually got it to stick in the tree."
  
  Grit laughed. "Yes, you did, and with a little practice you can do it every time. When you get stronger, I'll show you how to do it one-handed."
  
  As time went on, they practiced a few throws each day, and Paulie's accuracy did indeed improve.