Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me
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Eastern Oregon, September 3rd, 1877

John Macintosh had been the sheriff of Lewis Springs for 8 years, and in all those years the most prominent incident had been Bill's dog catching rabies and needing to be put down. The town was situated in the plains of eastern Oregon, far from civilization. It was small, insignificant, and the residents of the Lewis Springs were grateful for that. Nothing happened in small towns in the middle of nowhere, which was perfect for folks who just wanted to live their lives in peace.

This happens to be why the Sheriff was leery of the strange man who walked into his office one normal afternoon. Strange men happened to ruin peaceful lives. The man was rough-looking, his clothes were ragged, and his was beard unkempt. On his head sat a faded infantry cap.

The Sheriff leaned back in his chair, a hand resting on his Peacemaker. "What can I do you for?"

The stranger stepped forward and removed his hat. "Good afternoon Sheriff, I was wondering if you've seen any unusual crows about lately?"

"What?" What kind of question was that?

The stranger rotated the hat in his hands. "You know, crows? Black birds, yea high, like to make mischief?"

"I know what crows are. Unusual in what way?"

"In the way of not acting like they're supposed to."

The Sheriff scratched at his mustache. "Not that I can recall, any particular reason why?"

The stranger fidged with his hat. "Well you see, I run a ranch to the west, near Portland, and a few of our crows managed to get out."

"And you reckon they flew all the way out here, to Lewis Springs?"

The older man let out a small laugh. "Well, yeah!"

Sheriff Macintosh's next second was cut off by the sound of a gunshot. He jumped to his feet.

"What the hell?" He looked out the window then at the stranger.


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