Arriving at Violet"s dilapidated former shack some time after dusk, his entire body gripped in a series of bone-rattling convulsions, Hanson dropped from the saddle. Dismissive of the needs of his horse, he half-crawled up the creaking steps and fell through the door, reeling with the stench that hit him like a fist. Confused, disorientated, he groped like a blind man through the room and crumpled to the floor, shaking with the cold petrifying his bones. He moaned and huddled himself up into a tight ball, teeth chattering, doing his best to find some semblance of warmth in that stinking, filthy room. His hands felt something, a bundle of thick, heavy clothing and he pulled it to him, hoping to get warm again. Too exhausted to care what the heap was, he grunted with the effort but it seemed
