“From the moment they arrived and tethered their horses to the garden fence, I knew there was something wrong”, said Mrs Rita Arnold, of Chorley.
“They kept having to “mosey off into town” to get materials, and whenever the doorbell rang they hid in cupboards muttering about the Sherriff.
They did do really well lassoing the dog when it escaped, but that was only after they pushed the kitchen door off its hinges because it didn't open both ways.
Then there was the day that a man galloped up to the door on a horse and just managed to say something about Indians before he fell off the horse and died. I thought he must have had a dodgy curry, until I saw the arrow sticking in his back. I took him to the Health Centre but old Doc was sleeping off a heavy session on the moonshine.
Then one day they just failed to turn up at all. I heard later they were ambushed by a posse on the Preston Road. Still, seems they died with their boots on. That’s something, eh?”
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“Cowboy builders wrecked my home” claims housewife
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