Susanne
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doc#142 unlock and open the door. They crowded him in that threatening way once more, forced him to
doc#142 "Don't get yourself killed for something that doesn't concern you". He strode past the
doc#142 house. They brought to it all the odors that clung to men like themselves, that of their
doc#142 odors that clung to men like themselves, that of their own sweat, of campfire smoke,
doc#142 carpet. Their presence fouled the elegance of that room. </p><p> And their arrival caught John
doc#143 William Lewis. After walking out to his corral that morning, he'd been amazed to see the dust
doc#143 a rifleman and no track or trace to show that anyone had been near. </p><p> Lewis was a
doc#143 rounds of all who lived near him again, that August morning after a bullet landed at
doc#143 move out. </p><p> "Just let me meet up with that damned bushwhackin' coward face-to-face
doc#143 . "That's all I ask"! </p><p> He never got that chance. For the unseen, ghostlike rifleman
doc#143 anonymous notes, the county coroner estimated that the shooting had been done from a distance
doc#143 prosecuting attorney, a Colonel Baird, ordered that the tall stock detective be summoned for
doc#143 shooting and began preparing an indictment. But that indictment was never made. For Tom Horn
doc#143 and willing to swear with straight faces that he had been in Bates Hole the day of the
doc#143 </p><p> "Dead center at three hundred yards, that coroner said"! he'd grin. "Three shots
doc#143 coroner said"! he'd grin. "Three shots in that fella 'fore he hit the ground! You reckon
doc#143 there's two men in this state can shoot like that "? </p><p> Publicly, he denied everything.
doc#143 accepting the death of William Lewis as proof that the warning notes were not idle threats
doc#143 another settler who had ignored the warnings that his existence might be foreclosed on --
doc#143 looked around in surprise, then noticed that Fred Powell was clutching his chest. The