The reason for their hatred had always been a mystery to him and, for all he cared, would remain a mystery.
When he was fifteen his mother died.

On the day when the neighbors laid her away in a quiet spot at the edge of the wood near the far end of the corral fence, he stood beside her body as it lay in the rough pine box which some of them had knocked together, looking at her for the last time.

He was neither glad or sorry; he felt no emotion whatever.

When one of the neighbors spoke to him, asking him if he felt no grief, he cursed and stormed out of the house.

Later, after the neighbors departed, his father came upon him in the stable and beat him unmercifully.