“Law for anybody.”
“Mebby. They tell me you came with Frank Moran.”
Hashknife explained how it happened that he came to Black Horse with Moran, and the old man nodded.
“I hate him,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” said Hashknife. “It’s too bad, Conley. Hate never got either of you anythin’ but misery. Hatin’ folks is just like throwin’ a rubber ball against a wall. It slams back at you.”
“That’s true!” The old man’s eyes opened wide. “It does. Ain’t it queer that my son and Moran’s son should both be in jail at the same time. Jimmy Moran shot me, you know.”
“Sure of it, Conley?”
“He called me out and shot me.”
“Did you see him?”
“No. I don’t remember anythin’ after I opened the door and stepped outside. But he called and told me who he was.”