The roughnecks

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A Rock Springs policeman shot another Rock Springs policeman at point-blank range and later explained in court that he had sensed that his colleague was about to kill him. How was that again? The defendant said, ‘When a man has the urge to kill, you can see it in his eyes.” The jury saw it that way, too. Not guilty. Some people in Sweetwater County seemed to be of the opinion that the dead policeman needed killing. Love’s son Charlie, who lives and teaches in Rock Springs, once told us that the community’s underworld connections were “only at the hoodlum level.” He explained, “The petty gangsters here aren’t intelligent enough for the Mafia to want to contact. You can’t make silk purses out of sows’ ears.” The number of cowboys in Wyoming dropped from six thousand to four thousand as they rushed into zakelijke energie town to join the boom, disregarding the needed ratio of one man per thousand head of cattle. In desperation for help at branding time, calving time, and haying time, ranchers had to go to the nearest oil rig and beg the roughnecks to moonlight for a steam-driven water-cooled power plant, this one seemed to have a remarkably absent feature. It seemed to be missing a river. The brown surrounding landscape was a craquelure of dry gulches. In one of them, though-a desiccated arroyo called Dead Man Draw-was a seventy-five-acre lake, fringed with life rings, boats, and barbecue grills. At the rate of twenty-one thousand gallons a minute, Jim Bridger was sucking water from the Green River, forty miles to the west. To cool an even drier power station, some hundreds of miles away in northeast Wyoming, a proposal had been made zakelijke energie vergelijken to pump Green River water over the Continental Divide to the Sweetwater River, which runs into the North Platte, from which the water would be pumped over a lesser divide and into the Powder River Basin.

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