Klee had lost out twice-once when his farm was raided by Jeb Stuart's men, and then again, later and much harder, when he had to watch helplessly when while his wife and stepdaughter were raped and murdereed by a marauding band of Indians. He was a man twice filled with hate-and with rage at himself that he had not been able to defend his own better. There was no room for anything else. He set himself to kill, and kill, and kill.