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Updated: May 7, 2025
I have a deep horror of that imaginary stain which human blood seems to leave on the hands of the killer. Blood guilt." "You call it that? My daddy had his killin's, but they were all in fair-an'-open. I called him a man." There was a ringing quality in her voice, a depth and resonance that spoke of war and heroes. The fire that all the Holding knew was suddenly in her eyes, flashing and flaming.
I'd a-told him before when you met me that day on the range, only I didn't want his honest hands smutted up with such as you. He's had his killin's before but they was always in fair-an'-open. You he'd give no quarter if he knew what you ben askin' me." The man's eyes narrowed evilly. They became calculating. "Tell him," he said. "Eh?" "Tell him."
For a moment she stood so in breathless silence, scanning the room. Then her glance came to rest on the face of Buck Courtrey. "Men," she said clearly, "we buried Jim Last today. El Rey brought him home last night finished. You all know he was a gun man th' best in these parts. It was no gun man that killed him, in fair-an'-open, for he was shot in th' back.
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