Sillman don’t speak: just shifts his feet.
“That dead woman in there was your daughter-in-law, Sillman. You folks denied her a doctor and then yuh killed her husband when he was man enough to try and get medicine for her. We seen that killin’. Bassett and three other men saw it; now yuh tried to throw the deadwood on me and Stevens.”
“You fellers try your dangdest to stir up trouble, don’t yuh?” wails Sol Vane. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back here, I didn’t.”
“I came back to see if your hair growed out, Sol,” says Hashknife. “If yuh want another hair cut, I’ll bury the dynamite.”
Nobody had a word to say, but finally Sol Vane spoke—“The feller you gunned up over there is Lem Sellers. He’s a brother to Sim Sellers.”
“I don’t care if he’s his own uncle and brother-in-law,” says Hashknife. “Who is Sim Sellers?”
“Head of the council,” says Sol, like he’d sprung something on us. “Sim’s the head man of Willer Crick.”
“I hope he’s got more guts than Lem,” says Hashknife. “I like to do my own killin’.”
Just then that little kid kinda sneaks up beside Hashknife and Hashknife looks down at him. The little feller looks up at Hashknife with them big eyes, and then he just slips in closer, like a pup does when he likes yuh.
“Come here, Buddy,” says Glory, but Buddy’s hanging on to a rosette on Hashknife’s chaps and don’t even look at her.