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FOREWORD
 
 

 

 

 

A BIT OF CROOKED LAW

 

Bud Larson was a young no nonsense fellow, never once thinking of stepping outside the law. He had been using a pistol and rifle from a very young age around his father’s ranch. When alone miles from the house and barns, sometimes he would practice for hours.

On his nineteenth birthday, he told his father and mother he was riding into town and have his first ever beer. His dad smiled, “Son one beer never hurt no one. It’s when you go to putting away that first, then another and another you can get into trouble.”

“Dad, you know I’d never do that. One beer for each trip to town will be plenty for me.”

“You go ahead, I’ll do chores.”

Bud wasn’t in that saloon ten minutes when a bully didn’t like his looks.

“Boy you smell like a fresh cow pile! Why don’t you get the hell out of here before I throw you out?”

“Mister don’t let that pea brain over load that hummingbird butt of yours.”

Everyone laughed at that, the fellow went for his gun first, just as it cleared the holster, he was shot dead.

Bud was arrested and charged with murder. The sheriff said he would make sure he hung. “There are twenty witnesses saw he drew first!”

“Witnesses be damn, I’m the law! You just killed my brother! I’m hanging you myself Boy!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
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