Missives From The Mountains: Iron Furnace.
The Iron Furnace They say time travel isn’t real, but they have never ridden on a bull named Iron Furnace. I wasn’t sure, exactly, what I was doing but I knew if I survived 8 seconds on the back of a cow I could walk away with enough money to not only pay Seneca back and redeem my name, but also buy a ticket to come home in the first place. Eight seconds sounded helluva lot better than making up addresses on applications at fast food joints that had no real way of contacting me with my cellphone expired and dead as a hammer. “You got some chaps? Anythin’?” The old man looked at me as I registered for the rodeo. He looked down at my boots and then up at my blonde hair, now matted in sweat from walking in the Texas heat. “Son, you even know what in the hell you are even doin?” “Nope,” I b...