He shuffled through the handwritten notes that Mathers had supplied. It wasn’t comfortable reading about the town and its trouble because, in his time, he’d caused a fair share of trouble. He’d been the outlaw they feared. Hell, he’d become more than that. Common outlaws could be found on every saloon corner, but his reputation had snowballed until he was seen as a monster. And all because of bad timing. Until the day he’d robbed the saloon in Dry Creek, he’d been as common as any other thief. That day, with his pockets comfortably sagging with cash, he’d gone out, passing a man going in. That man, reportedly angry at finding the coffers empty, had killed four people, women among them. The killer was as common-looking as beans. Boone was tall; he had looked threatening that afternoon. So it’s him they remembered...him they gave the blame to. Word spread that the pair of them were partners.
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