text: As they started walking toward the hotel, Grit sighed. "Okay, we got our land. Now we can load the wagon and leave."
  
  "I was hopin' we could stay over,'' Paulie said. "But could I ask you a question?"
  
  "What is it?"
  
  "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
  
  Grit sighed heavily and said, "It's a long story, Paulie, but when I got kicked out of the orphanage for fighting, a boxing promoter named Weeb Dyson, a Canadian from Windsor, Ontario... that's a little village right across the river from Detroit City... took me under his wing, and I learned the fight game. I had a handful of professional fights around the Great Lakes, and I won all of them except the first one, and it was a close decision.
  
  "One night I was in a bar in Detroit after winning a fight. I was just having a beer with a coupla friends, and this drunk who'd seen me boxing decided he wanted to take me on. I had no intention of fighting, but he pressed it and started slapping me around, calling me all kinds of names. At the end of it, he stepped back and said, 'You ain't got no balls, boy!' and he kicked me in the nuts. He didn't hurt me bad, but I'd had enough, so I gave him a right cross to the jaw. He went down and hit his head on the brass foot rail of the bar, and he didn't get up.
  
  "Next thing we noticed was that he lost his bladder, which was no big deal ordinarily. Happens to boxers all the time when they're knocked out in the ring. They sent for a doctor, and he said the man was dead. I got arrested, and they charged me with manslaughter. I was found guilty and sentenced to three years at hard labor in the Michigan State Prison in Jackson. Said my fists were lethal weapons.
  
  "Shortly after I got there, I volunteered for the wood cutting detail. We were all trustees but still guarded while we did our work. For three years, I cut wood every day and was never paid a nickel. Several times, men wanted me to escape with them, and I turned them all down. I wanted to finish my sentence and get on with my life. Only good thing about it. The woodcutters got special meals because we burned up so much of ourselves doing the hard work. That's the only way I stayed alive and out of trouble.
  
  "I found out later that the warden made a pile of money using prisoners to cut and deliver logs and rails to various businesses, but I never saw a penny of that. I worked three years for nothing but three meals a day. I got fed barely enough to maintain my weight and keep working, but it was better than the other prisoners got.
  
  "When I had served my time, I wanted nothin' to do with the state of Michigan. I wanted a fresh start, so I hopped a train down to Ohio, and that's when I got the job at the quarry. But I've never forgotten those boxing lessons I learned, and over the years, I've gotten a lot stronger and more powerful. I don't suppose I could beat a top-notch professional fighter, but that one today had gone to seed and he was tired. I regret hurting him as bad as I did, but I was angry at the promoter for forcing me to fight because after serving my time in prison, I wanted nothin' to do with the fight game."
  
  "But you did win $2,000," Paulie said, "and that's worth something."
  
  Grit ruffled Paulie's hair and said, "Anything you particularly want?"
  
  "How about we talk to a builder and get him to come up to the site and build us a real house instead of us building a cabin?" Paulie asked. "We could spend our time cutting logs and making improvements to the place."
  
  "Hmm, I kinda like that idea," Grit said.
  
  "And maybe he could build us a barn for the animals too," Paulie said.
  
  "Another good idea," Grit said.
  
  "And a walkway to the outhouse so we don't have to brave the wind and snow to do our business in winter," Paulie said.
  
  "You're anxious to spend all our money, aren't you?"
  
  "No, no, but we could talk to a builder right now," Paulie said. "I already asked, and there's several in town. I don't think it'd cost too much."
  
  "You've been busy," Grit said. "Okay, partner, let's see the builder. Then I wanna check all the general stores in town for books to read this winter."
  
  "Come this way," Paulie said, "and we'll talk to him."
  
  They walked down to a building that had a sign, "Otto Webber Construction Co."
  
  When they walked in, a tinkling bell over the door rang, and a man walked out from the back. With a heavy German accent the man asked, "May I help you?"
  
  Paulie took right over and said, "We'd like to talk to someone about building a house for us a hundred miles from here."
  
  "Distance is no problem," Weber said, "but it'll cost a little more."
  
  Grit chuckled and said, "Of course it does."
  
  They looked over house plans and Paulie said, "I think we need three bedrooms."
  
  "Why three?" Grit asked. "There's only two of us."
  
  "We might have some visitors," Paulie said.
  
  "Like who?" Grit asked.
  
  "I don't know," Paulie said, "but it would be nice to have a cook maybe one of these days."
  
  "Alright, three bedrooms it is."
  
  "Good," Paulie said. "When can you start?"
  
  "We can leave in a week, and we'll arrive at your site four days later, then we'll be there and finish in maybe three weeks," Weber said.
  
  "And that includes the barn, the outhouse and the walkway?" Grit asked.
  
  "All of it for $725," Weber said.
  
  "We'll need a tight smokehouse with a good stove," Grit said. "How much you want down?"
  
  "Three hundred for buying the materials," Weber said. "An extra $25 for the smokehouse."
  
  "Give him the three hundred twenty-five, Paulie," Grit said. "And there's one other thing. Do you think you could bring up the stoves for the house? We'll need one for each room and a huge one for the living room, and the one for the smokehouse and one for the barn. And we'll be needin' you to transport the furniture, beds, tables, chairs and such."
  
  "We can bring that," Weber said. "Cost you $10 for the freight."
  
  Paulie paid Webber the extra $10 and was surprised when Weber asked Grit, "Aren't you the man who beat that old pug today?"
  
  "That I am, but I'm not proud of it," Grit said. "He wasn't much of a fighter."
  
  "Sure took him apart," Weber said.