“He did, didn’t he, Jimmy?” anxiously.
“No,” replied Jimmy wearily. “He didn’t even see me.”
“Don’t be a fool,” growled Regan angrily.
“That’s enough,” said Roaring firmly. “The doctor don’t need you, and I’m sure I don’t, so you might as well go home. C’mon, Jimmy.”
Hashknife and Sleepy knew nothing about the shooting until the next morning, when they found Roaring Rigby and several men in the restaurant, eating breakfast. The Black Horse had had a big play, and two of the dealers, Mack Ort and Keno Smiley, were eating breakfast before going to bed. Lovely Lucas was there, still half-drunk and inclined to be a bit belligerent.
As Hashknife and Sleepy came in, Lovely was at the height of an impassioned defense of Jimmy Moran. It did not take long for Hashknife and Sleepy to gather the gist of what had happened at the Hot Creek ranch. Ort and Smiley eyed Hashknife coldly, and it was evident to him that English Ed had told them who he was.
“I been wonderin’ where you boys were,” said Roaring. He turned to Lovely Lucas. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll put you in jail, Lucas,” he declared.
“By golly, I’ll be with honest men, if you do. Jimmy Moran never shot Old Man Conley. Why, I tell you, he was aimin’ to marry Dawn Conley. He wouldn’t shoot his father-in-law.”
“A-a-aw, what can you do?” wailed Roaring. “To hell with this kind of a job! Business is too good. Set down, boys. I’m glad there’s somebody around here that ain’t got no opinion. Ask me all the questions you like, but don’t offer any advice.”
“This is a free country, ain’t it?” demanded Lovely. “I ask you if it ain’t. You can’t put a man in jail for talkin’, can you, Roarin’? You can’t—”