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There was no doubt that of all the scum that Little Pit had to offer, he was the most loathsome. As a result, he was also the most feared and respected.

Scurrying around like a ferret, the young boy expertly raided the corpse, pocketing the valuables. He then grabbed the bridle and returned to their dilapidated shack with the horse in tow. While all of this was going on, Hugg popped out of the outhouse, taking more care to keep the rifle well aimed than to finish pulling up his drawers. He walked heedfully up to the house, his empty holster not the only thing swinging in the dusty breeze.

“All right, kid, how’d we do?” The man’s bulky mass loomed over the boy who, in contrast, was slim and small in stature; his mother’s son. Hugg had no doubt, however, that he was the boy’s father. Not because he had ever trusted the harlot he had regretfully married; as far as he was concerned, only the shiny forty-four in his belt was to be trusted. He had no doubt because of the thick and wiry reddish hair, freckled complexion, and snaggle-toothed features they had in common.