‘He shore was.’
‘And if Peter Morgan went there, after that warnin’, wasn’t he expectin’ to kill or be killed?’
‘I dunno what he thought. But that can’t be made out as self-defense, Hartley. If Lane killed him, why didn’t Lane report it to the sheriff? I mean, if it was self-defense, Lane could clear himself, I reckon.’
‘Could he, Eller? With his own son hidin’ out from the law? With the feeling against nesters? Do yuh think he could clear himself? Remember, Peter Morgan was a big man around here—Lane the smallest. Look at it from Lane’s angle.’
Red gazed moodily at his empty glass.
‘I see what yuh mean, Hartley. I never did put myself in Lane’s place—until now.’
‘The law,’ said the bartender wisely, ‘is supposed to play square with yuh.’
‘It very often does,’ nodded Hashknife. ‘In case they decide yuh deserve hangin’, they’ll furnish the rope.’
Red squinted at Hashknife, a half-grin on his lips.
‘You ain’t very strong for the law, are yuh, pardner?’