Nasty People

In Kansas I found shelter for the night, which led to a number of rather awkward incidents. This is what happened. Run, dear gentlemen! Herewith an Englishman's account of life and death in the West. As a reporter for the London Times he writes his colorful and unusual stories.

But as a man with a gun, he lives and becomes a part of the violent years in the new territories. Now starring John Dana, this is the story of J.B. Kendall, frontier gentleman. My rain-making friend, Darby Boulman, had offered to take me into partnership in a new venture, namely water-defining.

The discovery of hidden springs and wells by methods known only to Mr. Boulman. I declined with thanks and hastily set out alone with the town of Independence, which I knew to lie some twenty miles distant.

I hoped to arrive before dark, but my horse had gone slightly lame. And I faced the depressing prospect of camping hungry in a steadily falling rain. But a few minutes later, I was cheered at the sight of a dim glow of light in the gathering dust, and came upon a framed building surrounded by a stand of willowy trees.

I tied up my horse, knocked at the door. It was immediately opened by a pleasant-looking young man of about twenty. Good evening, sir. Good evening. You look a mite wet, come on in. Thank you.

Hello. There's a store? Yes, sir. Not much of a one. Only place between independence and Osage mission for supplies. Ah. What are you about? Ah, independence. Tonight? Ah, if I can. I wouldn't try if I was you.

Trails washed out a couple of miles up the way. Lesson you know it good, you can get bogged down pretty bad. Ah. Then, would there be any possibility of putting up here for the night?