TwentyMost of the room was filled by the enormous man next to the empty fireplace. He wore a crumpled grey shirt, sleeves rolled up over his bulging biceps and, arms crossed, he glared down at Clifton, quivering on the threadbare couch.
In the far corner, huddled together like small, terrified animals, Violet and Leo stared out from wide, frightened eyes. No one spoke until the man in black came in, boots unnaturally loud on the bare wooden floor, his spurs ringing.
“Make up a fire would you, Silas? I'm as cold as a frosted nut on a Christmas morning.”
“I don't like Christmas.”
“Silas, just make up the damned fire.”
The giant grunted and set to his task. Turning, the man frowned towards Violet and her son. “Ma'am, you need to sit down before y'all fall down. And him,” he nodded toward
