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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required He’d been on the trail many a month, When he reached the town of Gulrith, A mining village high in the peaks, His named was Wainwright Smith. He searched the west, looking for A sister by the name of Henrietta, Who’d been taken by men in old New York, The search, he would never let up. The men had been seen, to some were known: Thugs who traded in lost girls, But Henrietta had not been truly lost, In her father’s eyes she’d been a pearl. The daughter of a banker, on hard times, He had not the cash for a detective, So Wain went to the cops and there learned What we could about his objectives. Hannibal Mays was the man he sought, Wanted badly in six different states, Wain moved west from town-to-town, Fueled by both love and by hate. In Gulrith he’d heard Mays had set up. Going under the name of Guthrie, After eight brutal months he was now close, So he went to where men got lucky. But the cathouse hadn’t seen hide nor hair, Though a young girl told him for gold, That ever so often Mays found one, That he didn’t see fit to be sold. The whore made him pay for every word, And told him where to find Mays’s house. He paced up at night, Winchester ready To rid the world of this damn lout. He approached the house, and saw a light Blazing away in a back room, He approached slowly, readied his gun, Kicked the door open with a boom... CONCLUDED IN PART II.
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