"There's quite a yarn about the gang that held this hole," said
Jed Parker to me, when I had ridden back to him "I'll tell you
about it sometime."
We climbed the hill, descended on the Double R, built a fire in
the stove, dried out, and were happy. After a square meal--and a
dry one--I reminded Jed Parker of his promise, and so, sitting
cross-legged on his "so-gun" in the middle of the floor, he told
us the following yarn:
There's a good deal of romance been written about the "bad man,"
and there's about the same amount of nonsense. The bad man is
justa plain murderer, neither more nor less. He never does get
into a real, good, plain, stand-up gunfight if he can possibly
help it. His killin's are done from behind a door, or when he's
got his man dead to rights. There's Sam Cook. You've all heard
of him. He had nerve, of course, and when he was backed into a
corner he made good; he was sure sudden death with a gun. But
when he went for a man deliberate, he didn't take no special
chances. For a while he was marshal at Willets. Pretty soon it
was noted that there was a heap of cases of resisting arrest,
where Sam as marshal had to shoot, and that those cases almost
always happened to be his personal enemies.
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