“Because I had been in prison, Larry?”
“I—I guess that was—was part of it.”
“I see. And he said I killed Charley Prentice, didn’t he?”
“He—he said you was a killer, and that folks wouldn’t care to have anythin’ to do with me if I lived with you.”
If Amos Baggs had been in reach at that moment Len might have lived up to the reputation Amos had given him.
“Son,” he said tensely, “would you believe me if I told yuh that I never shot Charley Prentice?”
The boy swallowed painfully, gripped his hands tightly around one knee, but finally shook his head.
“Why wouldn’t yuh, son?”
“Because, I—I know yuh did.”
Len got to his feet and stared down at the boy, who did not dare look up at him.