Excerpt from The Killer
I want to state right at the start that I am writing this story twenty years after it happened solely because my wife and Senor Buck Johnson insist on it. Myself, I don"t think it a good yarn. It hasn"t any love story in it; and there isn"t any plot. Things just happened, one thing after the other. There ought to be a yam in it somehow, and I suppose if a fellow wanted to lie a little he could make a tail-twister out of it. Anyway, here goes; and if you don"t like it, you know you can quit at any stage of the game.
It happened when I was a kid and didn"t know any better than to do such things. They dared me to go up to Hooper"s ranch and stay all night; and as I had no information on either the ranch or its owner, I saddled up and went. It was only twelve miles from our Box Springs ranch - a nice easy ride. I should explain that heretofore I had ridden the Gila end of our range, which is so far away that only vague rumours of Hooper had ever reached me at all. He was reputed a tough old devil with horrid habits; but that meant little to me. The tougher and horrider they came, the better they suited me - so I thought. Just to make everything entirely dear I will add that this was in the year of 1897 and the Soda Springs valley in Arizona.
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