Then Hang All the Liars by Sarah Shankman

She crept around the side of their barn to where Florence and Frank’s sty was, and it was full of pigs, inferior pigs, of course, and not a one answered when she called Miss Hazel’s name. If Hazel was anywhere near, she would have, because she certainly knew her own name. Pigs, according to Mavis, are smarter than most dogs. Not to mention quite a few humans, though she wasn’t going to name names. Well, she just took a fit on her and before she even knew what she was doing, she had set fire to their barn. It was going pretty good before they woke up, and by that time it was too late, even though Tallbuttons, who had come from all over the county for the wedding, were out in their pajamas throwing water at the blaze.
    “They said Florence was cool as a cuke throughout the whole thing—that she just stood on the side with the flames reflecting off her face like Joan of Arc.
    “‘Woman,’ Frank couldn’t help but yell, ‘don’t you even care if our barn burns down?’
    “And she didn’t even bother to respond, but you could tell she didn’t care. Not a whit.
    “Well, the next day everybody found out why. All the Tallbuttons in Bulloch County—which is to say, all the Tallbuttons—were gathered in the First Baptist Church of Hopeulikit to see Maureen and Mahatma joined in holy matrimony, and I’ll tell you there was some buzzing going on when they got a look at Mahatma, though people were trying to be polite. That is, all of the Tallbuttons except Florence. She was too busy unloading Miss Hazel out of the back of her pickup truck onto the picnic grounds that had been set up behind Mavis and Medford’s house. It was a struggle, but with the help of poor jilted Floyd, she did it. And she was standing right there beside Miss Hazel when the wedding party arrived. There was Florence, in her best Sunday-go-to-meeting dress. And there was Miss Hazel, pit-barbecued whole with an apple in her mouth.”
    “Oh, shit!”
    “Well, I’ll tell you, Mavis said a lot worse than that. And she started for Florence, but Florence was too fast. She’d made her plans well in advance.
    “‘Gun it, son,’ she shouted and jumped in the door of Floyd’s pickup truck when he came wheeling through the yard. Those that saw it said they looked just like Bonnie and Clyde.
    “Mavis left the whole wedding party behind, left Maureen and her groom—in fact, yelled at Maureen as she drove out behind Florence, ‘This is all your fault. I hope you’re happy now!’”
    “Did Maureen cry?”
    “Hell, no. Anybody who’d jilt her fiancé at the blood test wasn’t gonna shed a tear over a little old thing like that.
    “‘Crank ’em up, boys,’ she yelled at the band, and the drinking and the dancing went on late into the night.”
    “Meanwhile, we’ve got Mavis chasing Florence and Floyd down the highway.”
    “Yep, and Florence and Floyd had a good little start on her, and they knew where they were headed.”
    “Which was?”
    “Panama City. Florence had just called up and renewed those reservations that had already been made in Floyd’s name. So they drove like hell into the Greyhound terminal here in Savannah, and Florence had timed it so that no sooner had they abandoned that pickup in the parking lot than they jumped right on the bus.
    “‘Did you see her face?’ Florence kept crowing over and over until an old man in the back of the bus yelled, ‘Lady, would you shut up?’
    “So she whispered, ‘Did you see her face when I said, y’all come on now and have some barbecue?’ Then she and Floyd liked to have died laughing.
    “But that didn’t last very long, because they hadn’t even hit the city limits heading toward Panama City when the bus stopped at a red light and Mavis shot right through that folding door with her double-barreled shotgun. Missed the driver ’cause that’s what she intended to do, but she certainly got his attention.
    “‘What do you want?’ he yelled.
    “‘Open the goddamned