
Sheriff Winston has a satisfied smile. He has just locked up several members of the Wild Beard gang in his Farmington jail. Robbing a bank with so few people — he has to admit these outlaws have a lot of nerve.
In an hour, those bandits will get a taste of the local gallows. That certainly calls for a round of drinks at the saloon across the street.
Sheriff Winston stands, locks the jail door and walks away. All that remains in the muggy air is the smell of his cigar and the echo of his whistle …
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