We sat at his kitchen table overlooking the Main Street of Absaraka, the bird clock on the wall tweeted the passing of time. An occasional Burlington Northern train lumbered its noisy way through the tiny town - a swirl of snow rising from beneath its heavy steel wheels. The winter passed quickly as I learned about the life of Roy Faught. Snowy days became hot summer forays into the Dirty Thirties as Roy struggled to harvest a wheat crop stunted by the extreme drought. Scrawny heads bravely standing on stalks mere inches tall. The loud clack of pool balls and scent of beer mingled with...