The barman sets up the whiskey, and after a moment draws a second for himself, which he knocks back in one. "Don't rightly know." he says after a few moments of silence. "We though maybe outlaws at first, but ..." his voice trails off into silence as he looks around.<br/><br/>"It all started about two weeks ago. We found the Johanssons strung up on an old tree about a mile outside of town. Some of the men had a look at their homestead, and it was all smashed up. Three nights after that, it was old man McCoy. Then night before last, it was Paul Daniels. There's been a posse out looking, but they can't find hide nor hair of what .. who is doing it." He licks his lips nervously and continues.<br/><br/>"We ain't got no Sheriff. We sent a telegram to the Marshalls, but it could be weeks before they get here. People are scared."