This reminds me of a dear old lady I met here in the hills. When her
grownup son returned to the home place after years of working away he
moved his chair right up to the wood stove and stationed himself
there. One day during a particularly cold spell she told me "so & so,
bless his heart, sits right next to the stove and there's no room for
us". You'd have to know how lacking in floor space their cabin was to
appreciate this. She was a unique lady, was related to Jesse James,
and moved to the Ozarks in a covered wagon when she was a girl. I
recently saw a newspaper article mentioning a new book about Jesse
written by someone from this 'neck of the woods'. She has gathered
many stories and met a lady who had done likewise and now has put that
combined information into a book. It's called "Frank and Jesse James
Friends and Family" and is by Freda Cruse Hardison. It is on Amazon.
I'm going to buy one and surprise her son with it one day. I wish she
was still alive and I could give it to her. Some day I'll tell more
stories about her.
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