A Hanging at Cinder Bottom
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Glenn Taylor. A Hanging at Cinder Bottom
Copyright
Dedication
Author’s Note
THEIR DAY HAD COME. August 21, 1910
ARE YOU A DRINKING MAN? September 22, 1877
QUEENS FULL OF FOURS. February 17, 1897
IT’S A TOAD-STRANGLER. May 15, 1903
THE CROWS WERE IN THE EVERGREENS. April 20, 1910. New York
THE PULPIT WOULD HAVE WHEELS. April 21, 1910
APRIL FOOLS’ HAS COME AND GONE. April 25, 1910
NO BUCKWHEATERS, NO CHICKENS. May 6, 1910
CYANOGEN GAS WILL IMPREGNATE THE ATMOSPHERE. May 18, 1910
A RADIANT AND BLOOD-RED ROOM. May 24, 1910
HIDE THE WHISKEY AND BEND THE KNEE. June 22, 1910
BET YOUR LAST COPPER ON JACK. July 4, 1910
TEN FUN OF THE NUMBER ONE. July 22, 1910
THEIR DAY HAD COME. August 21, 1910
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Also by Glenn Taylor
About the Publisher
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This one is for the people of McDowell County, West Virginia, past, present, and future
And belch their cinders at the fevered days.
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The game at the Alhambra would bring him what he’d always been after. It was something to ponder.
At the window, cold air issued in at the sill. The shade was half drawn, and below him, folks walked the dirt streets laughing. The restaurant beside Fat Ruth’s radiated the stench of hog fat burned black. The cook stood out front in an undershirt despite the cold. He picked his teeth with a thumbnail and watched the ladies coming to work. There were more than usual on account of the grand opening across the creek. There were white ladies and black ladies and foreign ladies too. Fat Ruth’s was the first in the Bottom to do such a thing, and that was fine by the cook. He said to each as she passed, “You looking every inch a peacock tonight.”
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