- Shopping Bag ( 0 items )
Ships from: Mishawaka, IN
Usually ships in 1-2 business days
Northern Nebraska 1886
Loud knocking sounded at Bets Winthrop's front door. The noise awakened her when she'd scarcely been asleep. She trembled in her big bed. How many neighbors answered their door to find black hooded men outside? The mere thought of the Black Hoods put goose bumps on her arms, her mouth went dry and she found it hard to swallow. Those creatures seemed to think they had the right to take the law in their own hands whenever a couple cows or horses were stolen.
How many people were subjected to their biased questioning and intimidation? Who else would be out and about when most folks were abed? Being widowed at twenty-three, after vigilantes had hung her innocent husband, made her even more wary of knocks on her door. Frightening thoughts ran through her head. Did they still think, after two years, that she knew something about their identities? What if the Black Hooded vigilantes waited outside her door with a hangman's noose all tied, and guns in their hands to force her to the nearest big tree? She hadn't stolen any cattle or horses. Why did someone knock on her door this late at night?
The knocking got louder. She pulled on her old blue flannel robe and slid her feet into scruffy slippers. Grabbing the heavy forty-five caliber gun from the small bedside table drawer, Bets rushed across the living room and edged aside the heavy velvet drape at the big window. She peered slantwise across the long front porch to the spot opposite her dining room outside door.