|Edition description:||First Edition|
|Product dimensions:||5.90(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.50(d)|
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From Chapter One: Murder of a Nightingale "Some of the proprieties were carefully observed... for example, a woman, no matter whether she was a housewife, a dance hall girl or even a courtesn (and mind you, the last two were not necessarily the same), was treated with grave courtesy on the street. Any man who failed to observe this canon got into trouble." Actor Eddie Foy concerning the ladies in Dodge City, Kansas,1913 Dora Hand was in a deep sleep. Her bare legs were exposed under her thick blankets, and a mass of long, auburn hair stretched over her pillow and flowed off the side of her flimsy mattress. A framed, charcoal portrait of an elderly couple hung above her bed on the faded wallpaper and kept company with her slumber. The air outside the window next to the picture was still adn cold. The distant sound of voices, back-slapping laughter, profanity, and a piano's tinny, repetitious melody wafted down the main thoroughfare in Dodge City, Kansas, and into the small room. Dodge was an all-night town. Walkers and loungers kept the streets and saloons busy. Residents learned to sleep throught the giggling, growling, and gunplay of the cowboy consumers and their paramours for hire. Dora was accustomed to the nightly frivolity and the clatter. Her dreams were seldom disturbed by the commotion. All at once, the smack of a pair of bullets cutting through the walls of the tiny room cut into the routine nightly noises of the cattle town with a gusty violence. The first bullet stuck in the dense plaster partition that formed the room's perimeter. The second struck Dora on the right side, just under her arm. There was no time for her to object to the injury; no moment for her to cry out or recoil in pain. The slug killed her instantly. In the near distance, a horse squealed and its galloping hooves echoed off the street and faded away.