Mark and I were out working in the barn. We thought we heard the stage.  Usually the stage doesn't pass by our ranch unless they are having trouble.  They were on there way to Santa Fe.  There was a problem with the wheel.  I fixed the wheel the best I could but told the driver he'd have to see the blacksmith in North Fork for further repairs.  While I was working on the wheel Mark discovered that his idol, Mark Twain was on the stage.  Mr. Twain was upset because of him being detained.   He was angry and irritable.  He just didn't want to be bothered.  Mark tried talkin' to him but he practically bit his head off.  I told Mark he was probably tired from the trip.  Mark agreed and thought it best if he'd approach him later.

Mr. Twain went to check into the hotel.  Eddie was in the billiard room playing pool with Russell.  Mr. Twain was awful impatient.  He kept ringing the bell over and over again.  Eddie apologized to Mr. Twain.  He gave him the registry to sign.  Russell came in. "You playing?" Said Russell as he bumped into Mr. Twain.  Eddie told him he was busy.  "Give me a room where I won't be disturbed!" Said Mr. Twain.  "Yes sir! I think I have just the room for you Mr. S. Clemens!" "Why.....why you're Mark Twain!" Exclaimed Eddie.  "That book writer?" Asked Russell.  "What's the room number?" Shouted Mr. Twain.  "Twenty-four! This is a pleasure, a real pleasure," said Eddie.  Russell grabbed Mr. Twain.  "So your the one who wrote about the travel on the Overland stage. I've always had a hankerin' to meet up with you," said Russell.  Mr. Twain pulled away from him.  "What was it you called that book?" Asked Russell.  "The book is called 'Roughing It', a title that should come easy to you!" Shouted Mr. Twain as he walked off.  "Well I was one of those station keepers you described," said Russell.  "This way Mr. Twain," said Eddie.  Russell stopped Twain again. "Horde of savages, that's what you called us. Said we fed the travelers water with dish rags and sand to flavor it."  "You get out of the way Russell," yelled Eddie.  "You caused such a stir that the company sent men out to check the out lying stations. Your lies cost me a job!"  "The power of the pen is mightier then the sword," said Twain.  Mr. Twain said that the company was fortunate that Russell was no longer an employee of the Overland Company.  He went up to his room.

Mark and I had gone into town to have dinner.  Mark couldn't keep his eyes off the stairway.  He was hoping Mr. Twain would come down those steps and into the dinning room.  I told him he better eat his dinner.  He was thinking of asking Mr. Twain if he would like to go fishing in the morning.  "He loves to go fishing," said Mark.  "Mark, when your as famous as he is I imagine people swarm around you where ever you go."  He was anxious and all smiles.  "I guess they do," he said.  "It doesn't give you much room for thinkin'," I said.  "You mean I shouldn't even talk to Mr. Twain?" Asked Mark.  "Wait until he talks to you, give him some 'thinking room'."  Mark was disappointed.  That sure brought him down to earth.  As soon as Mark Twain came down those step Mark got all excited again.  He stood up.  "That's Mark Twain!"  I told him to sit down.  I reminded him of the 'thinking room.'  Mark Twain came in the dining area and ordered his supper.

Russell walked over to me and said "Hey McCain, how about a little game?"  "No thanks."  "I'll spot you ten points out of twenty. Play you for a quarter a point. Now you can't hardly turn that down," said Russell.  I told him I don't play for money.  "That's the trouble with the folks around here, their all scared to loose," said Russell.  "Fifty dollars say's nobody in town can beat me," said Russell.  "I know somebody who can, Mr. Twain. Playing billiards is his hobby. I know he's beat most everybody in the east," said Mark.  Russell looked at me and asked if Mark knew what he was talkin' about.  "Anything about Mark Twain, Mark McCain knows," I told Russell.  That was good enough for Russell, he approached Mark Twain.  "Hey um, I hear your quite a billiards player. Fifty dollars say you can't beat me. Think you can?" Asked Russell.  "I don't think of you at all sir," said Twain.  "Well here's seventy dollars. My whole roll that says you play billiards like you write, rotten!" Said Russell.  "I won't play with you Mr. Russell. But you may set up the balls. As difficult a three cushion shot you choose. Winner takes all."  Russell couldn't believe his ears.  "You mean your gonna make any three cushion shot I set up?" Asked Russell.  "Exactly," said Twain.  "Come along Mr. Writer man," said Russell.  As Russell walked by us he said, "Mr. 'Roughing It's' gonna give me a present.  They both went into the billiard room.  Mark and I didn't even finish our supper.  We just had to watch this!

Russell set up the cushion shot.  He gave the cue stick and ball to Mr. Twain.  Twain wanted to pick his own cue stick.  They put their money on the table.  Twain eyed up the situation.  He sure looked pretty confident.  Mr. Twain did good!  He made the shot with no effort.  "Braggin' and brayin's the same thing Mr. Russell. The only difference is the later noise comes from the throat of an animal with much larger ears," said Twain.  He took his money and left.  Russell stood there still trying to figure out how he made that shot.  "Say, he called me a mule," said Russell. 

The next morning Mark and I decided to go to our favorite fishing hole.  Mark went on ahead.  He was happy to see Mr. Twain there.  Mr. Twain caught a fish and told Mark to bring it in.  He told him he could have it.  Mark told Mr. Twain that some of the kids have been saving their money from their chores to buy a subscription to that new magazine that printed chapters from his new book, Huck Finn.  The problem was it takes an awful long time for mail to get here from Boston. They were wonderin' if maybe he could tell them what's happening so they wouldn't have to wait so long.  "What's a matter with you boy! Why do you keep botherin' me? Huckleberry Finn is dead!"  "He's dead! I tell ya' he's dead!" Yelled Twain.  Mark got upset and ran off.  Who wouldn't the way he yelled at the boy.  I felt bad for the Mark.  "Mr. Twain, you should not have talked to the boy that way. You were his idol. A boy's idol shatters easy. You ought to know that, you have a son."  Twain turned and looked at me then he walked away.  I noticed he had left something lying on the ground.  I picked it up.  It was a letter.

I went back to the ranch to find Mark.  He was in the barn upset and crying.  "I found your Tom Sawyer book in the waste bucket."  Mark pushed it to the ground.  "I don't want it anymore!" Said Mark.  "Maybe you'll change your mind son when you read this. Mr. Twain left it at the stream. It's from his wife. It explains a lot of things."  "I don't care about anything that has to do with him," said Mark.  "Read it, he has a deep sorrow, Mark."  "Just 'cause he's sad doesn't mean he has to treat everyone else like dirt!" Said Mark.  "Once you said you wanted to be like Mark Twain. You're acting exactly like him now."  "How do you mean?" Asked Mark.  "Shutting folks out because you've been hurt." "The letter says his son Langdon died a few months ago."  The newspapers tried to spare the family that's why we hadn't heard about it out here.  "Mr. Twain blames himself for the boys death."  "But why?" Asked Mark.  "He took him riding in an open carriage on a very cold day. The blanket slipped off. Mr. Twain didn't notice because he was thinking about his story he was writing. That night Langdon came down with diphtheria.  Mr. Twain never forgave himself, he's been running ever since. He hadn't written a word since."  Now Mark understood why Mr. Twain said Huckleberry Finn was dead.  I told Mark I was going to return the letter to Mr. Twain.  He wanted to go along. 

When we got to the hotel Mr. Twain was in the lobby.  Eddie said that he had been standing there for fifteen minutes.  I told Mark I wanted to talk to Mr. Twain alone.  I gave him the letter.  I told him I knew about his son and that I can imagine how he feels.  I know how I would feel if I would loose my son.  He was sharp with me.  "How could you know? How could you possibly know?" He asked.  "How could you possibly know how it feels to kill your own son?"  I told him he didn't kill his own son.  "That's what I did Mr. McCain, I murdered Langdon! Murdered him! For a bare foot urchen and Huckleberry Finn!" Just then Russell barged in.  He wanted a chance to win back what he had lost.  I told him to git.  He said he had the same loser's rights as anybody else. Again I told him to get out of here.  "Just a minute," said Twain.  "Nothing you will say can possibly help! The past is unchangeable."  He told Russell to name his stakes.  "Five points for anything he wants!" Said Russell.  "A hundred dollars," said Twain.  Mark and I went to watch. Twain was getting ready to make a shot when he saw Mark standing there watching him.  Mark had a big smile on his face.  He missed the shot.  "A cues a little heavier then the pen, ain't it?" Said Russell after winning.  Russell won.  Now they were even.  Suddenly Mark shouted....."Mr. Twains got losers rights too!"  Russell notice a solid gold chain.  He wanted to wager it for one hundred dollar.  Twain turned him down.  "You know you can't beat me, huh?" Said Russell.  He told Russell it had a sentimental value.  "It was a gift to me to celebrate the birth of my son."   Russell laughed and told him he was afraid of loosing it.  "He's right Mr. Twain. The past took something you loved. Now you refuse to go on living. You can't do that Mr. Twain. Your future belongs to the world. If your not afraid Mr. Twain why don't you wager your past against your future?"  "Just how much was you son worth to you?"  Twain stood there and just looked at me.  He walked over, picked up the cue stick.  "Five points, my break!" Said Twain.  He cleared the table.  Russell didn't get a shot off.  Mark rushed up to Twain and shook his hand.  "Gee willikers Mr. Twain, that was wonderful!"