The old shoe salesman wasn’t as spry as he used to be. A fact his aching and crackling joints made abundantly clear to him each and every morning when he climbed up out of bed.
But he found that once he got a few cups of strong coffee in him, he didn’t feel all that bad. Real coffee, though. Not Chicory. He’d had more than enough of that as a youngster.
Morning cup of joe notwithstanding, he still wasn’t moving briskly enough to suit the loudmouthed customer he was currently attending.
“Don’t you know who I am?” the blowhard shouted. “I’m Bill Duggans and I’ve got a mind to bust you upside the head if you don’t find me the boots I want!”
What would follow would be a lesson the loudmouthed Bill Duggans wouldn’t soon forget. And give birth to yet another legend surrounding one of the most notorious killers the old west ever knew.
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