As if he were up ahead, hunting without me. I went back and forth in my mind, tortured. It took about a month before I finally decided to do what was best for Colter, rather than for me. I flew to Houston with him in the spring, and then my father and I drove him up to Jarrett's place. Colter's muscles stood out deeper than those of the other dogs.
Some people say pointers are crazy, others say it is their owners.
Jarrett's too diplomatic to take sides, but he has some stories. One of his favorite's is about this big hunter from Florida-big in the sense that he weighed three hundred pounds. So he flew to Rosanky in his Lear jet and picked out one of the dogs Jarrett had raised and trained to sell. It cost him about three thousand dollars to bring the jet over there, and another twenty-five hundred for the dog, Ned. Jarrett drove him back to the airport in Austin, where the jet was waiting, oil derricks painted on its tail.