Clara was angrier than she’d ever been before. But even her fury took second place to her deep frustration.
They’d murdered her first husband as a warning to the others. Then six months later, after she’d convinced her second husband to join her crusade against the town’s corruption, he’d been shot in the head to put an end to her editorials.
They thought she’d pack up and leave Cottonwood, but she refused to give up or back down. Two weeks ago, she’d wired the Arizona territorial governor in Prescott, hoping he would send help. But now, those hopes were gone. She hadn’t even received a telegraphed dismissal of her request.
Adding to her frustration was her printer’s refusal to let her continue her crusade. If she’d been able to set type and use the printing press, she could still write her accusatory editorials.
She felt trapped and her newspaper’s circulation was less than half of what it had been just two weeks earlier. As she stared at the cold steel printing press, Clara wished she knew how to use a gun. It may be the only way she could continue the fight as no
one else seemed to care and there was no help on the way.