“Well, somebody talked,” growled Angel. “My business is all shot—and it all happened that day. I haven’t dealt a card in my place since. I know what they’re sayin’. I’m no fool. They think I skinned you out of that money. They’re sayin’ that Angel McCoy was so crooked he skinned his own father. They say that you knew I skinned yuh. Oh, I heard it. No, I didn’t hear it said, but I heard it was said.”
“That ain’t a—a good reputation, is it, Angel?”
“Reputation be damned! My business is——”
“Worth more than yore reputation, Angel?”
“Money talks.”
“It does to some folks.”
“Don’t talk to me about reputation,” said Angel hotly. “Yore own won’t stand much, yuh know.”
Old Rance blinked slowly, but the lines of his old face did not change. Perhaps his eyes clouded momentarily, but he was not looking at Angel.
“What do yuh want me to do?” he asked dully. “Why did yuh come out here, Angel?”
“I wanted to find out what you or Chuckwalla had said.”