“First thing I heard out of that silence was a woman’s high clear voice—Oh God! Oh God! They are killing Mister Watson! By the time Edna Watson realized what had happened, her husband was dead and on his way to Hell. Watson’s young family was sunk down on the store steps in a sobbing heap. Poor Edna was plain terrified, my sister said, that this “mob,” having tasted blood, might turn on the dead man’s widow and his little children. I hate to admit this but she weren’t all wrong. Their fear made ...these men vengeful, and the most dangerous was the very ones who had looked the other way for all them years—the ones claimed Watson never killed a soul, only one-two riffraff on his place that had it coming. Same ones who was so angry he had scared ’em all them years that they pumped bullets into the dead body. These same brave fellers scared his widow so bad that she grabbed her kids and crawled on hands and knees under the store, even cheered and jeered the fine round of her hip when her frock tore as she crawled into the dark, then dirty-joked about Old Man Watson mounting his young mare.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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