A stranger might smile and be sociable, and the moment Fargo turned his back, plunge a knife into it and steal his poke. A painted warrior bristling with weapons might appear ready to slay any white he came across, yet turn out to be from a friendly tribe. Yet knowing that, Fargo still found the habit hard to break. He’d taken for granted that the old prospector was harmless and now the old man was about to blow out his wick. “Any last words?” Badger asked. “You’re not the one I’m after. Why shoot me when you don’t have to?” “I like the bonnets and the dresses,” Badger said. “I like to fondle them at night.” “You can get them at any dress shop or most any general store,” Fargo stalled. His right hand was low at his side and he inched it higher. “I don’t like people, remember? I don’t like towns. Every time I go into one, people poke fun at me. Laugh at me behind my back. And now the folks in Haven went and threw me in jail.” Badger was growing agitated as he talked and his mouth began to twitch.
What do You think about High Country Horror (2010)?
