“He’s older, Len; and he’s been drinkin’ heavy. Lost his job.”
“No!”
“Fact. Old man Grant fired him.”
“Gosh, that’s kinda hard luck.”
Hashknife looked closely at Len Ayres, who seemed genuinely sorry to hear that Prentice had lost his position. Ayres might be a bad man, but Hashknife decided that there was nothing petty about the man. Breezy introduced him to Sleepy.
“I reckon I’m lucky you boys came to Lobo Wells,” he said. “I’m shore indebted to yuh, Hartley. Any time I can do anythin’ for yuh, just yell loud enough for me to hear.”
“Yuh ain’t indebted to me,” grinned Hashknife. “I’ve been watchin’ that feller for quite a while, expectin’ any minute that he’d start trompin’ on snakes. I don’t think he’s responsible for what he done.”
“I reckon he knew what he was doin’,” said Breezy.
“I reckon he did,” nodded Len. “But it’s all past now. I wouldn’t get any satisfaction out of jailin’ him, Breezy. Yuh see,” he shifted his eyes to Hashknife. “I know what it means to be behind the bars.”
“I’ve got friends on both sides of ’em,” said Hashknife. “I dunno which ones I prefer; possibly the insiders.”