Nolan blew a long thin streamer of smoke towards the ceiling, his eyes tightly shut.
“I’ll appreciate it a lot more after I find out what I’ve got to do to pay for the job,” he said reflectively.
Marsh sank back in his chair, one elbow braced against the broad arm, the other hand on his knee. There was silence for several moments and then, “You were sent up for ten years for second degree murder, Nolan. The jury found you guilty of killing Ben Kelton, but with enough extenuating circumstances to modify the original charge. You found out how many friends you had in Painted Valley.”
Nolan shifted uneasily, his eyes on the desk top.
“I didn’t have many,” he said softly.
“They threw you down, you mean! The only one who stuck to you was Jules Mendoza.”
“Good old Injun Mendoza.”
Nolan’s eyes were soft now, a half smile on his lips.
“But the rest threw you down—even Jim Kelton, the father of the girl you were to marry.”
Nolan’s eyes hardened quickly.