Granddad always had a way of making me feel special. "How's my favorite granddaughter today?" he'd chuckle. He had a lot of grandkids, but *I* was always his favorite. I was probably ten or eleven before I figured out what he'd been saying, and that the rest of them were all boys. He still kept calling me his favorite granddaughter, and it became an in-joke, something special just between the two of us.
Until one day late in high school, when he apologized and said he wouldn't be able to call me his favorite gradddaughter any more. My Aunt Marcy had just had her third child, his second granddaughter. I told him it was okay, it was her turn to grow up being his favorite now. But we both knew I lied.
Looks like it's time for you and Louis L'Amour to ride off into the sunset, Granddad. Happy trails from your favorite granddaughter.