one cowboy friend of mine he used to live in the san rafael valley but moved because he and his wife and small children were harassed so much by drug deals, he told me a story i used in the novel about one night at 3:00 in the morning for drug dealers on their way back to mexico banged on the door and wanted something to be. and, he made in a butter sandwiches them. he went outside, holding the sandwiches in one and one hand on a plate and a 357 revolver in the other hand just in case they wanted something more than the peanut butter sandwiches. gave them the food in a little while later, about two weeks later he and his wife were out of town on a vacation and they came back and found their host-- house had been broken into and the freezer, where they had just butchered a, had been broken open and all the steak stolen out of it. he said he was pretty sure it was the same guys letting him know that they didn't like tina butter. [laughter] anyway, one of the reasons i did turn this into a novel is that as a journalist you are restricted to the facts, even in this day and age of new jou