They shipped Frank Latham home in a coffin with a bullet in his back and said no one was to blame. They said Frank was a murderer and deserved what he got. Nobody mourned Frank except for his wife, Bess and his two half-Apache sons. One woman and two half-grown sons against an ugly town and a professional gunman. They buried him in the frozen sod then rode out to write his epitaph in his killer's blood...
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