Across The Fence: Grandpa's Grays
"I appreciate fine horseflesh as much as the next fellow," Grandpa reflected as he reached into his shirt pocket, extracted a plug of "Tinsley" and cut off a chunk with his ever-ready Case pocketknife. We were leaning against the top rail of the fence, staring across the pasture and had been talking about horses.
"But," he continued as he pointed the pocketknife and plug in my direction, "When it comes to all out brute work, nothing beats a good pair of mules."
"Now don't get me wrong," Grandpa continued. "I've worked some fine teams, and for hitching a buggy for a showy Sunday drive I'd pu...