Twenty sevenArriving 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 b
