“Gawddammit!” Holt shouted into the dawn. “Who are you and what do you want?” “We’re from Perdition and we want what you stole as well as that breed for hangin’!” “I didn’t steal anything!” Holt shouted. “Yeah, you did! You didn’t see that old woman rockin’ while she knitted in the back of the store, did you, big man? But she saw you. And she heard everything and she says you never paid nothin’ for them three big sacks of supplies.” “The old woman is crazy!” Holt bellowed. “I paid for those supplies!” “Liar! You left our general store while all that commotion was goin’ on outside and you stole us blind! That there was a community store, big man! That means you stole from each and every one of us in Perdition, and that’s a bad, bad offense.” “You’re wrong,” Holt shouted, his voice no longer sounding blustery or confident. “Suit your damn self, you thief! But we’re not leavin’ here until we have you locked up in chains and that breed the same.
