Chapter 1

The man struck the chisel with a hammer and stared as a large chunk of the granite sheered off. Raising the hammer over his head, he brought it down on top of the massive granite block with an angry scream. A third of the block fell to the floor. A splinter shot out and cut his hand.

He threw the hammer to the floor and stomped off. He came to a stop and stamped his foot on the floor in frustration wishing he had something else to throw. Life was not working out for him. It hadn’t always been that way. Three years ago, he was a nationally recognized artist for his bronze statues. His pieces were commanding incredible prices. There were interviews in art magazines and exhibits in the best galleries where he was the star. With the fame came huge parties with attractive women and lots of champagne. Life was good.

Then, without warning, his world crumbled at his feet. His girlfriend, his high school sweetheart, had walked out on him. Even worse, she had walked away with his best friend whom he had known since childhood. Their parting shot that he was a self- involved asshole had ripped his heart out. Since that day, he hadn’t been able create anything.

After a year of one creative failure after another, he had given up working with bronze and turned his attention to stone in the belief that he could work out his pain on solid rock and turn it into art. For two years, he had chiseled away at one block of stone after another. Despite working day and night, he had created nothing more impressive than piles of pebbles.

Frustrated about his art, his life, and his heart, he shook his fist at the ceiling and shouted, “Flawed. The stone is flawed. My work is flawed. I’m flawed!”

“Excuse me. Are you Dante?”

Dante spun around and looked at the young man who had spoken. Two years of working stone day and night had developed Dante’s upper body to an incredible degree. He flexed to look intimidating and glared at the young man. In a gruff voice, he shouted, “Get lost kid!”

Unperturbed by the emotional outburst, the young man walked over to the block of marble and touched it. He walked around it examining the surface. After a minute, he stopped and stared at one spot on the stone. Without warning, his fist shot out and hit the block. A huge piece of marble fell to the floor. Turning to Dante, he said, “You are right about one thing. The stone is flawed. You might be right that your work is flawed, but I doubt it. You’re wrong about you being flawed.”

Dante stared at the chuck of stone that had fallen to the ground. The shock of what he had seen had driven away his frustration leaving him speechless. He swallowed and asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m William Redman Carter.”

The name didn’t mean anything to Dante. He shrugged and asked, “What do you want?”

“I want to commission you to create some bronze statues,” William answered as he wandered over to an example of the man’s bronze work.

Dante was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to deliver on the commission. Despite needing the money, he chose to refuse the offer. In an attempt to discourage the kid as quickly as possible, he said, “Look kid, that kind of commission costs a lot of money.”

“Money is no object,” William answered running a hand over the smooth bronze statue. It wasn’t the best work the man had done. He’d seen an excellent example of the man’s work on display at the Native American College. This piece suggested that something was missing from the creative act.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You haven’t heard what I want,” William countered. He turned to examine Dante and wondered why he was putting up such a fight.

“I don’t do bronze work any more. I’ve moved onto stone.” Even as he said it, he knew had been considering throwing together a couple of junk bronze statues. His agent could sell them and the money would tide him over for another year. It didn’t matter if the pieces were of ducks or turtles, someone would buy it because of the residual reputation that he had.

“You’ll accept this commission because it is too good to pass up.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Dante didn’t want to admit that he was intrigued by the kid’s persistence. He asked, “What do you want?”

William handed him several photographs and said, “I want a bust of the man in these pictures.”

“That’s John Carter,” Dante said recognizing the man immediately. Only one other artist had been commissioned to capture the man’s image in an artistic medium. She was famous.

William smiled at the beginning glow of interest and said, “Yes. He’s my father. I also want a full body statue of him for placement outside the Druid College.”

Dante couldn’t decide if William was serious about wanting a bust and a statue. The idea of having one of his pieces placed in front of the Druid College was very tempting, but not tempting enough. He asked, “Anything else?”

William handed another packet of photographs to Dante. He answered, “I want a bust of my grandfather, William Redman. One of the castings will be placed in the Native American College.”

“Sure, no problem,” Dante replied in a mocking manner. He wondered how the kid could assure placement of those pieces in such prominent locations. He’d heard that the Native American College already had one of his pieces, but he wasn’t sure if it was on display or just held as an investment.

“I also want a bust and a statue of another man,” William said.

“So let me get this straight. You want a bust and a statue of your father; a bust of your grandfather; and a bust and statue of some other guy. Multiple casting of each, I assume.”

“Right.”

“Do you have any idea how much that will cost you?”

William held out a check and answered, “I have a fairly good idea.”

Dante looked down at the check and swallowed. It had more zeros in it than he could count. There was no way he could accept a commission this large considering that he didn’t think he could deliver on it. He said, “I think that is a bit more than required.”

“No. I want two castings of the statue of my father and eight hundred castings of the other statue. I want two castings of each of the busts.”

The amount on the check was still almost a million more than he would have charged. He said, “That check is still too large.”

“The extra is to pay for the difficulty in getting the other man to pose for you,” William said with a smile.

“Who is it?”

“Happy Harry.”

The name didn’t mean anything to Dante. He looked back down at the check unable to believe the amount written on it. He asked, “Why is it going to be difficult?”

William laughed as he considered the months that Dante was about to experience. He said, “You are going to have to travel with him. He’s the last of the Hoboes.”

“Do you mean I’m going to have to jump on trains?” Dante asked. He had visions of running after a train with a clay statue and trying to jump onto it.

“No. He has a Roach Coach that he drives around. The problem is that he doesn’t stay in one place for very long. You’ll have to travel with him and work during those few moments when he’s still.”

Dante stared at the check. He looked at the pictures of John Carter marveling at the raw power of the spirit that was captured within them. The amazing strength of character in the face of the grandfather beckoned him to accept the job. His doubts in his ability held him back.

William turned to leave. Before he reached the door, he stopped and turned back to face Dante. He said, “I’ll be by to pick you up Friday and take you to Happy Harry. His statues are to be the first pieces I want delivered.”

“I didn’t say I’d take the job.”

“Oh. Did I mention that the statues of Happy Harry are going to be placed at locations supported by the Fusion Foundation?”

“No,” Dante answered with a frown. He asked, “How can you assure placement of these works?”

“John Carter founded the Druid College and they would like a bronze statue of him. William Redman founded the Native American College and they would like a bronze bust of him. My other father, Ed Biggers, is Chairman of the Board for the Fusion Foundation,” William answered.

“Oh,” Dante said wondering if he could deliver the commission.

“I’ll see you Friday.”

Dante looked down at his luggage and wondered how he was going to tote so much stuff around. He had fifty pounds of clay, stands, tools, sketch pads, and his clothes. He looked up when three Huggers pulled into the drive in front of his studio. Once they had parked, a couple he’d never seen before got out and looked around. The woman walked over and asked, “Are you Dante?”

“Yes,” Dante answered glancing over at the second car. William and a young woman got out and headed in his direction. Another couple had gotten out of the third Hugger. Looking at William, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Bodyguard paranoia. My mother insisted that they come along on this trip. She’s afraid that I’m going to pick up hitchhikers or something,” William answered. He received a sharp look from Rock for his answer. Smiling at Rock, William said, “Let’s get his stuff in the car.”

“Uh...” Dante started to say.

“Allow me to introduce you to Lucy, my wife,” William said. “Lucy, this is Dante. He’s going to do a bust and a statue of Happy Harry.”

Lucy smiled at Dante and said, “You are in for quite a time. I kind of envy you.”

“Oh, thanks.”

While they were talking, Rock went over and picked up the hunk of clay. Dante was about to warn him that it was heavy, but the man handled the load as if it were no heavier than a pillow. That impressed Dante much more than he was willing to admit. He watched as the four bodyguards loaded his gear into the back of the middle Hugger. While they worked, William pointed to each one and said, “That’s Rock, Colt, Nicole, and Natalie.”

“Is that it?” Rock asked when he returned to where Dante was standing.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go,” Nicole said. “You ride with us.”

“No, he rides with me,” William corrected. He said, “We have business to discuss.”

“You’re the boss,” Rock said with a frown.

William got into the driver’s seat of the Hugger after directing Dante into the passenger side back seat. Lucy climbed into the car behind William and turned to Dante. She asked, “Are you looking forward to traveling with Happy Harry?”

“I don’t really know what that means,” Dante replied.

William pulled out of the drive behind the Hugger being driven by Rock. He checked his mirror and saw that Colt had moved into position behind him. William started humming a traveling song. He was looking forward to seeing Happy Harry again, but wondered how the old man would react when he dropped Dante off in his lap.