"They said in Texas that Tom Buchanan ate raw wildcat for breakfast and that he was slow to anger--like a rattler dozing in the desert sun. But now every saloon and dance hall had heard the news: Buchanan was cleaning his guns. The genial giant of a man had sworn to kill the outlaws who had shot his best friend in the back. Old timers shook their heads. it wasn't going to be a fair fight, they said. The Odds were only three to one."

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