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ing stone wails, ne Kina oi wistfully recalled the days he worked for those famous Rappahannock men, Jake and John Keyser. ‘‘Them were the days,” Judd would say. Yet, he put them solidly behind him.
For the greater part of his life Judd drank nothing but water. No coffee, no tea, no beer, no whiskey. However, in his youth, Judd used to race work horses and play hard on Saturday nights.
Judd always made good money because he was capable of everything he tackled and worked steadily at it all hours of the day and some of the night. Amongst his past callings were: logging, driving teams, making staves for wood barrels (no one in Rappahannock or Warren could make them faster and as well) and shoeing horses. What at the start he lacked in skill he made up for by his physical strength and determination. Most animals sensed it and worked with him.
Getting back to the ‘‘light work", though, one morning early in our acquaintance, I heard the tractor put-put-put down Rt. 637. I caught a glimpse of Judd. Unlike most people, maybe due to his particular build, Judd on the tractor looked as if he was driving a four in hand. His back and head were erect, his hands down where reins would normally be held and his eyes looking between the horses ears. A little while
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