This view was Pa's way of seeing things. Pa was a man in favor of conviviality and ever inclined toward life's comforts, and my wedding gave him a wonderful opportunity for both. The best of friends and the most opportunistic of strangers were to sample alike my mouth-watering marriage supper, taste the fiery liquor, and dance to the lively music of the best fiddlers in Arkansas. Pa, ever inclined to urge all to eat and drink and wax exuberant, was never disinclined to make a future profit by doing a present good deed. My wedding made history in northwest Arkansas, along with ensuring Pa's reputation as the owner of the most favorable stagecoach stop between Little Rock and St. Louis.
Perception is everything.
From that sparkling January day in 1860 until the day he died, Pa was counted to be a man of substance and unstinting hospitality. Meaning mostly to do me honor, but not unwilling to do himself proud in the bargain, he made for himself a not inconsiderable sum in the turbulent years to come from the goodwill generated that day. Pa's forethought meant little to me. Larkin was on my mind and in my heart. I counted the hours until I could actually and legally feel his touch.