“Yore mother?” Rance frowned heavily. “Oh, yeah—yore mother. Well, I dunno, Lila.”
“Didn’t my father tell you?”
“No-o-o, he didn’t say.”
“But you killed him.”
Rance McCoy hunched his shoulders helplessly.
“Let’s me and you not talk about it, Lila. It’s all gone and forgotten now. You’ve been my little girl ever since yuh wasn’t knee-high to a nail; you’re still my little girl.”
The old man’s voice was not very steady and he did not look at her.
“It’s not forgotten,” said Lila bitterly. “Why didn’t you tell me a long time ago? I haven’t any right to—I’m not your daughter. You haven’t any adoption papers, have you?”
Rance shook his head sadly.
“Wasn’t anything like that, Lila. I didn’t never want yuh to know. I wish I’d killed Billy DuMond before he ever told Angel. The drunken bum ain’t hardly fit to hang on the hot end of a bullet. Angel wants to marry yuh, Lila. Mebby yuh heard him say it last night. But don’t do it.”