Everything about Slater, Missouri, was lustrous when lifted up for comparison with the Natoma, Kansas, she had so recently escaped. ‘Who’s miscoun...ed what, Dear?’ Martha asked as she bustled around the cheery little room, tucking their purchases from Hagen’s here and there. ‘Mr. Hagen,’ Ada responded. ‘He’s given us one more apple than we paid for. This is the third time he’s done something like this in as many weeks.’ ‘Perhaps he’s waiting for you to catch on, Little Miss,’ Martha said with. ‘We’re going to a classic shit kicker bar. Most of the people there are local farmers, ranchers or agricultural workers. A guy I know—again you’ve probably never heard of him—jams out there when he’s not on tour and just wants to get back to his honky-tonk roots.’ The parking lot of the dilapidated little road house was packed. She doubted that they would be able to get in. George drove his truck around to the back where a security guy with a big cowboy hat waved them past an improvised. More

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