Miss Spelled
Miss-Spelled, by GENEVA It was humid April afternoon in the early 1860's, and I was brushing down to the horses, when the sheriff poked his head in the stable door. "Jim, can you come into my office for a minute when you are done?" I washed my hands, dried them on a rag and pushed my way in the door. Sam was sitting at his desk, peering at a letter. "Yeah, Sam, you wanted to see me. What about ?" "I got this letter here from Bob Simms. He's the lawman in...