“Bitter, is he?” Rance laughed harshly. “Oh, I suppose he is—the dirty sidewinder.”
“He’s your son, Rance McCoy.”
“That don’t stop him from bein’ a sidewinder, does it?”
“Perhaps not. Oh, I’m sorry I went to the Eagle that night. I suppose it was none of my business, but he had admitted to me that he dealt crooked with you. You had already given him so much, you know.”
“I’m glad yuh came,” he said slowly. “It kinda showed that yuh—yuh hadn’t forgotten the old man. Angel hates me. He’s always hated me, Lila. And I’m gettin’ so old that it hurts to be hated.”
“I’m sorry. I—I don’t hate you. But it wasn’t fair to never let me know who I was. Angel swears that I came to expose him that night in order to—to get some of your money.”
“Some of my money, eh?” Old Rance smiled bitterly.
“He brags about how much of it he got.”
“Does he? It’s worth braggin’ about, Lila. How is yore school comin’ along?”
“All right. I love the work.”