“And that’s how it comes that I’m sheriff of Black Horse--and may I be hung with horseshoes and rabbit-feet, et cettery.” Roaring Rigby tilted back in an old swivel chair and looked disconsolately at the white-haired man who sat across the battered desk. The man had a long, deeply-lined face, slightly reddish nose, somber blue eyes beneath white eyebrows.…
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