Jane walked into the old, musty antique bookstore in Rockcreek, that smelled faintly of mold and dust. She was bored out of her mind. She had been wandering around the sleepy little town for over an hour while waiting for her car to be serviced at what she losely termed a gas-station. Jane had already been down the main street four times, each time trying not to go into the store, knowing she's never come out. Stores like that pulled her in, what with her love for old books and history and all. When she finally gave in and wandered into the shop, a small bell tinkled, signaling her entrace.

An elderly woman looked up from the book she was reading, quickly puttling it behind the counter, but not before Jane saw the title, "Spitfire Romance", featureing a buxom woman on the front, and a man with long, flowing hair, your typical bodice ripper. She stifled a smile, she'd read that one.

"Hello, may I help you?" The woman had a husky, but pleasent voice, although she sounded almost...intruded...upon.

"Hi, I'm just looking. Do you have anything in first edition, or hand-written from this area from about 100 years ago? I'm doing my thesis on late eighteen hundreds litariture." The woman perked up noticeably.

"Why I just may! Why don't you come with me and we can search the stacks?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to be any trouble..." Jane trailed off, not wanting to intrude.

"Oh, No! No one has come in the front door for a week, I do all my selling over the internet now. Just wonderful, that machine!" Jane smiled, likeing her better and better. "Oh, my! I forgot my manners in all the excitement of a young girl like yourself coming in, my name is Bernice Hunter. Now, why don't you come with me and we'll take look for ya'."

Jane followed Bernice to a back room, filled almost to the roof with books and manuscripts, close to falling over. Jane found herself smiling more in this store than she had since leaving school on break a week ago. She followed Bernice, who seemed to know where everything was in the room, over to one side, that said one a taped up peice of paper, 1850-1890 Rockcreek.

"Now here we go...What did you say your name was?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! My name is Jane. Jane Hymns."

Bernice cocked an eyebrow. "Hymns? I knew a Jim Hymns. Are you from around here?" at the negative answer, she continued. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Now, this stack, as you can see, is only from around here. You can look around all you want. I'll be in the main room. Call if you need anything." With that, Bernice left Jane to her own devices.

Jane walked over the the wall, and started to root through it. Several minutes later, she came up with four books and what looked like a log-book. It was hand-written and said 'Rockcreek Jail', in gilded letters on the outside.

She sat at a croweded table, filled with more books than she cared to think about. The first book, was "Wild Bill Hickok". A booklet about 30 pages long, badly preserved, but still legible. Carefully flipping through a couple page, Jane snickerd at the overly dramatic language. "The wild, western, wind flowed through Wild Bill's long hair, as he stared down his opponent with steely eyes..." Jane figured it to be a young boy's prized possesion, at one time.

The next two were just diaries she could read later. One by Louise Davis and the other by Rachel Dunn. They were hand-written, but long and hard to read, so Jane figured she'd either buy them, or ask to get them loaned out to her. Finally, she made it to the last book. It was covered in green, cracked leather.

Opening the covered, Jane coughed when the dust hit her in the face. But what she found was interesting to say the least. The cover page had a list of names, each of which had dates of introductin, and dates of death. Only a few had off-duty listings for death. Two of the listings with off-duty death listings were Texas Rangers. Teaspoon Hunter.

The next 50 pages or so were all log-ins and outs of inmates of the jail. There was a column for time in, out, who brought them in, executin, and reason for stay. Quickly, flipping through the pages, three or four repeat names jumped out at her. "Buck Cross...Ike McSwain...Noah Dixon...Kid? Hmmm....Lou McLoud....William F. Cody...could it be? No...But? James Butler Hickok?! There is only one of those!" All the name appeared in both the 'time in' column, and in the 'who brought them in' column.

With her intrest perked, Jane flipped to the back of the book, where each Marshel made their own remarks. Scanning the pages, she looked for the repeat names. Most, if not all of them were found under Marshel Hunter's entries...Hunter? But wasn't that Beatrices...

Jane got up and walked to the front counter. "Bernice? Have you ever seen this before?" She held up the log-book. The woman looked up from her book again.

"That? Why, yes. I do beleive that was in my late husbands family for years. I don't think anyone paid much attention to it after the old Jail burned down fifty years ago. It's been in boxes and on shelves for over a hundred years. Why? Did you find somthing?"

"Well...This is actully a log-book for the jail. It has the name Teaspoon Hunter in it-"

"Hunter?"

"Yes. And the name William F. Cody, or Buffalo Bill, and James Butler Hickok... Better known as Wild Bill. But I just can't beleive that both these names could be in Rockcreek at the same time, or even be THE names I hope I am imaginig, 'cause if they are, this book is priceless to history and-"

"Woah, Honey! You need to slow down before you hurt someone with that runaway train!" Jane stopped her nervous tired, smiling at the spriteful old woman. "Now, slow down and repeat what you just said."

"O.K. I was flipping through this book. It's a log-book to the old jail. Anyway, as I was flipping through the pages, I noticed some names that kept repeating. William F. Cody, James Butler Hickok," Jane glanced at Beatrice, cocked and eyebrow, and opened the book, " Lou McLoud, Kid, Noah Dixon, ahhh...Buck Cross and Ike McSwain. More often than not, they appear in the 'who brought them in' column, but sometimes, in the 'time in' column. But what I want to know, is, do you think that the James Butler Hickok here, and the Willialm F. Cody, are the same as 'Wild Bill' and 'Buffalo Bill' that are so prevelant in Westren folklore."

"I don't rightly know. I guess we could search through the stacks and try to find other pieces from those years." The woman was certainly intrigued.