Free I'll See You In Your Dreams by Tony Miller Page A

actually to invite comment.
    “Yes, it is,” replied the stranger. He was an older gentleman and had an aura of wisdom about him.
    “You work around here?” asked Colton.
    “No, son, I retired a few years ago.”
    “What did you do, if you don’t mind my asking?”
    “I don’t mind at all. I retired as a merchant seaman and tug boat captain.”
    “Wow, that sounds like an interesting life.”
    “It had its moments.”
    “Did you work this harbor?”
    “Oh, yes, the New York Harbor is one of the biggest, and I also worked one of the most beautiful harbors, which was part of the most beautiful city in the world.”
    “Really, where was that?” Colton asked with intense interest.
    “I worked twenty years in the San Francisco Bay. It’s truly one of the most beautiful cities I ever saw.”
    “More beautiful than New York?”
    “You truly can’t compare the two. New York is my home and is like my old coat here. It is warm and comfortable and old enough to fit just right. San Francisco is a lot like New York except it’s a bit younger and has that, how do you say, élan, life, enthusiasm, style. It has developed a character that is loved by its inhabitants.” The old man looked at Colton and continued. “If I were a young man, I’d head to San Francisco.”
    “How is the best way to get there?” Colton asked.
    “By the most powerful corporation in California, the Southern Pacific Railroad.”
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    Colton arrived in Oakland, California, which was the railway terminus for San Francisco. It was a major hub of the Southern Pacific Railroad.
    Colton loved the bustling activity of the depot and the many boats and ships vying for right of way in the harbor. There was a sense of purpose and verve, and an almost mad dash to capture life and live it to the maximum. The overall exuberance to build, construct, and ostensibly to seek one’s fortune was intoxicating to Colton.
    As he walked the dusty street to the wharf, he heard someone call, “wrangler, cowboys, need a job?”
    Colton turned to see a black man standing on a box, calling out to a group of a dozen or so men just disembarking from a recently docked paddle wheeler. All dressed in black, he sported a black Stetson with a silver hat band. He had a silver buckle and silver spurs. He appeared confident, with an air of experience about him. No one seemed to respond to the black man’s calls.
    Colton walked up to him and said, “I need a job.”
    The black man turned his eyes to Colton, and with a slightly bemused expression asked, “You seem a bit young to answer to the request for a wrangler.”
    “It is true, I’m only nineteen, but I assure you, no one has walked this street that is more qualified than I am.”
    The cool black man stuck out his hand. “My name is Samuel Thomas Aaron Novak. Friends call me Sam. What would you prefer to call me? You have four choices.” He paused as Colton surveyed Sam.
    “Shall I call you Mr. Novak until I earn your friendship? And while I’m asking, what must I do to earn the right to call you Sam?”
    “You must decide if I am a friend or not.”
    Colton and the black man looked at each other with equal amusement in their eyes. “My name is Colton Johanson. Friends call me Colton Johanson. What would you prefer to call me? You have only one choice.”
    “How about smart alec, after the exploits of one Alec Hoag.”
    “I’m flattered. I didn’t know that came from a famous Alec. What was he famous for?”
    “He was a con man and a pimp!”
    “You can call me Colton.” They laughed and shook hands.
    “So, Mr. nineteen year old wrangler, have you ever heard of a breed of horse called an Arabian?”
    Colton burst out laughing.
    “Why are you laughing, Alec?”
    “It’s Colton, to you. And the reason I’m laughing is that I was born and raised on the number one Arabian farm in England, at Crabbet Park.”
    “Oh, my Lord, this has got to be more than a coincidence. I emigrated from England myself