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Updated: May 11, 2025
Says she, 'He's too much of a man to be skeered, says she, 'these here tall, big men always 'low nothin' on earth kin hurt 'em, says she, 'but you tell him to be keerful, says she; an' I see Bill Skillett an' his brother on the Square lessun a half-an-hour ago, 'th my own eyes. I won't keep ye from yer breakfast.
He was tall, lean, hard, powerfully built. He eyed the strangers with affected languor, and then, when they had gone by, broke into sudden, loud laughter. "That was Bob Skillett, the worst of the lot," said the judge. "Harkless sent his son and one brother to prison, and it nearly broke his heart that he couldn't swear to Bob." When they were beyond the village and in the open road again.
It rained, and I stepped under the tree for shelter. There was a man on the other side of the fence. It was Bob Skillett. He was carrying his gown and hood I suppose it was that on his arm. Then I saw two others a little farther east, in the middle of the road; and I think they had followed me from the Briscoes', or near there.
Bob Skillett, Force Johnson, and one or two others needed the care of a physician badly, and one man was suffering from a severely wrenched back. Homer had a train stopped at a crossing, so that his prisoners need not be taken through Plattville, and he brought them all safely to Rouen.
The Cross-Roaders stood by each other that day, for four or five men ran out of the nearest shanty into the open, lifted the prostrate figure from the ground, and began to carry it back with them. But Mr. Skillett was alive; his curses were heard above all other sounds. Lige and Schofield fired again, and one of the rescuers staggered.
I don't believe he needs as much takin' care of as we think." "Wasn't it one of them Cross-Roads devils that knocked his hat off?" asked Judd Bennett. "I thought I see Bob Skillett run up with a club." Harkless threw open the doors behind him; the hall was empty. "You may come in now," he said. "This isn't my court-house." They walked slowly back along the pike toward the brick house.
They were Bob Skillett and his younger brother, and Mr. Skillett was badly damaged: he seemed to be holding his jaw on his face with both hands. The girl turned, and sped after them. She was over the fence almost as soon as they were, and the three ran in single file, the girl last.
No matter what the prosecutor had to say, at least the Skillett saloon and homestead were gone, and Bob Skillett and one other would be sick enough to be good for a while. "Listen," cried Warren Smith, and, rising in his stirrups again, read the missive in his hand, a Western Union telegraph form. "Warren Smith, Plattville," was the direction. "Found both shell-men.
And please tell Parker there's no more copy, and won't be I wouldn't grind out another stick to save his immortal yes, yes, a daily she said-ah, I never made a good trade no they can't come seven miles but I'll finish you, Skillett, first; I know you! I know nearly all of you! Now let's sing 'Annie Lisle." He lifted his hand as if to beat the time for a chorus.
Hurt man taken to hospital unconscious. Will die. Hope able question him first and discover whereabouts body. Other man refuses talk so far. Check any movement Cross-Roads. This clears Skillett, etc. Come over on 9.15." The telegram was signed by Homer and by Barrett, the superintendent of police at Rouen.
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