Angel drew DuMond aside and lowered his voice.
“I just had a run-in with the old man, Billy. He knows you told me about Lila; so yuh better steer clear of him.”
DuMond wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and swallowed dryly.
“Lemme git yuh straight, Angel. Yuh told him I said it?”
“Yeah; that he killed Lila’s father and then adopted her. You told me about it ten years ago, yuh remember.”
“Uh-huh. Well”—DuMond cuffed his shapeless hat over one ear and stared at Angel—“Well, what did yuh drag me into it fer? I don’t want no trouble.”
“A man don’t get into trouble by tellin’ the truth.”
“Th’ hell they don’t! I knowed a horse-thief that told the truth—and they hung him. And you told old Rance McCoy that I said—I—Angel, I’m shore sorry yuh told it.”
“You scared of him, Billy?”
“Well, by God!” snorted DuMond, cuffing his hat to the opposite side of his head. “Any old time I git m’ spark of life blowed out, who’s goin’ to light her ag’in? Don’t you re’lize that yore old man is danger’s?, He’ll shoot.”