There’s been this conversation about new folks comin’ to Kalispell, and that’d be true. Fact is, there’s new folks already here, but they aren’t folks that you see most days. They have jobs that they work and homes they go to at night. You might catch one ‘er two in the saloon after they get off of work to have a drink or two before headin’ off ta home wherever that might be. There’s been a few tents goin’ up here an’ there’s others residin’ in the Wigfall’s boardin’ house.

Most all are good folks, salt of the earth types, who tend to their own affairs and don’t intrude in those of other folks. That’s how we’d like it here, anonymous folks you see, might even say hello to of an occasion, but otherwise pay ‘em no mind. Some have childern in the schoolhouse, most you’ll find in Pastor Gideon Evens’ church come Sunday mornin’.

But every town has those that though they aren’t of the type who would ride for the Evergreen or ride with Case Steelgrave, they are nonetheless disreputable. Every once in a while there is one or two that could be construed as just plain evil. But there ain’t been no sign that anybody like thet has arrived in town, well at least not yet anyways.

An’ all the while speculation that Pike is gonna quit ta run his spread, The Rockin’ P, an’ that Speed Guyer’d had enough after bein’ shot, an’ havin’ his minin’ concerns ta worry over. But neither's said anything about them rumors, be they truth ‘er false.

It’s an interestin’ time we live in, ain’t it?

'Course now, can't say as I know every soul that has come to Kalispell, but what I've said about those that are bad and those that are plain evil, well, how would you know? I mean was you to look at a man 'er woman on the boardwalk, how would you know if the person was a killer or a pious everyday person same as you? That's the problem, doncha know, ya can't tell jest by lookin' 'em over. So it's likely that I may have misspoke, I don't think so, but ya know how it is. Sometimes ya just can't trust what ya see as how it is, and there's a passel of newcomers in town that I can't say I've ever met, not even spoke to.

Nope, Kalispell's a nice quiet town, for the most part, that is. There's a fight now an' again in the Saloon of a Saturday night. And here an' there some cowboys race through town causing a ruckus, but that happens on paydays, not often, but often enough for the Marshal and his Deputies. Now there has been some gun trouble on and off over the last few months of seventy-six, and a pretty fair street fight Can't count the winter though, too cold to be out shootin' at one another. Why there ain't been a bank robbery in a coons age. Won't be no dime novels written about Kalispell, no sir, well not anytime soon.

But as I live and breathe, there's somethin' on the wind, somethin' cold. Mean an' cold, blowin' down the streets o' Kalispell, an' it ain't no winter wind neither. No sir!

Death finds its way no matter the course of one's life. When the end comes it comes, swiftly or slowly, painless or painful. There are those who believe that Death comes as a dark figure, with a hooded robe, that might be, but dark has been known to arrive in human form, no hood, no robe no scythe. Death can arrive as a man or a woman, a stranger, a friend, or an enemy. In the light of day, or the dark of night.

Jasper Nichols had no idea that death was about to knock on the door of his shanty on the edge of town, he was quick to respond and the hour was late, he was preparing for bed, he had an early day in the morning and he needed his sleep.

"Oh, I didn't think you'd stop by that this hour, but please do come in." He said holding the door as his guest walked into the room, warmed by the fire. Jasper closed the door and was about to turn to walk into the room when without warning a piece of cord was thrust around his neck and was getting tighter as he was unable to gasp for air. His eyes bulging, his face turning red, his arms flailing helplessly his hands going to his neck, but to no avail as his feet kicked helplessly as his life ebbed away until his was simply a lifeless form.

The killer jerked the cord free of Jasper Nichols neck and dropped him to the floor, lifeless eyes striking at the ceiling without seeing it. Then the killer let himself out and disappeared in the night.

Death had come without warning to the clerk who worked at the hardware store. Kalispell would be less one soul from the Sunday Service.

Well, Jasper Nichols has been found by Deputy Charlie Wentworth and now resides with  the undertaker, Malcolm Jolly, a man quick to produce an alibi. The fact of the matter is, they know a great deal more about Mister Nichols than our killer, but that's actually beside the point.

There will have to be some sort of investigation into the killing, and it is quite obvious that it was a murder. One just doesn't strangle one's self. So they'll drag the Marshal into it, as a matter of course, as if he didn't have enough to worry about.

So we are stuck at step one, in case anyone thought we were beyond that at this juncture. Now, who the culprit might be? Not a clue at the moment. And the killer likes that just fine, in fact, the appetite has been thoroughly whetted now. Though caution is the watchword, Kalispell is not that big of a town.

Our killer has been successful for some time, moving on when it was time. Traveling a distance from the previous killings had happened, to where the return to the random killings would not be connected to wherever the past exploits had taken place. So far, so good.

Towns were no longer cities, but towns, and getting smaller, and more distant from one another. Although, working in the killer's favor, communication between towns and cities was not all that reliable. Especially the farther out on the frontier one got. This place would do, for a while.

It had been a challenge, first gaining entrance into the house without being seen, much less confronted, then reaching the second floor with such ease, amazing!! This was supposed to be the first one, but alas, the doors had been locked, and the windows shuttered for the night. It had been a late start, so on to the next one, which ended up being Jasper Nichols. A fluke really, but a target that simply presented himself when called upon by a simple rap on his door.

The excitement of it all was heady, the adhrellian seemed to explode with each passing moment, and then moved quickly to the first doorway then tried it, and it opened, the choice was made. Slipping inside and closing the door, a bit too noisily perhaps, too late. There was the tub, a female lounging in the water,

"Hettie?"

Everything froze for a long moment, when the breath was held waiting for the girl to make a move.

She straightened up and was about to turn around and see if Hettie needed help or what was up. Had she only turned even an instant faster she might just have had time to scream and just maybe it would have been heard.

The knotted cord was made from the finest of silks. It had served to end any number of lives, and this courtesan would simply be one more to that long list! But, unlike so many others who simply gave in to deaths beckoning, this one was a fighter!! An unexpected turn of events and a fight by both the killer and the victim to be victorious over the other. The struggle was fierce, the assailant pulling back as hard as could be, cinching the silken chord ever tighter as they tumbled back, the naked girl came out of the tub in a rush, landing atop her killer on her mattress. There was a moment when the grip loosened but then tightened again, drawing even tighter. In the minutes that followed, the valiant young woman succumbed completely.

Showing signs of exhaustion, the killer got up, opened the window, pausing to snatch up a silver broach. Then climbing out, dropping down alongside the house, and to lay for a moment, pain seared through the left leg, but it was fading, the killer struggling to get upright and get clear of the place as fast as possible before being seen.

Limping into the darkness, a second victim taken.