"No, ma'am."
"And you rode from Tenney's! I'll get you something right away! Just put your mule in back."
She hurried into the house and Joe led the mule toward the outbuildings. He'd brought a tie rope because, no matter how hospitable a host might be, one didn't just ask for corn to help catch his mule. Joe looped the rope around the mule's neck and tied her to a fence post before he slipped the bridle off. He turned to meet the man and boy who, by this time, were very near the barn.
John Seeley was a stocky, square-built man, and apparently he never made a fast move if a slow one would serve. But there was about him that which was as solid and dependable as the land he worked, and Joe warmed to him. He had an approving glance for the youngster who, Joe suspected, was a mirror of what the father had been twenty years ago.
"Are you John Seeley?" Joe asked.
"That's me," the other's voice was as deep as he was stocky. "What can I do for you?"
"My name's Tower," Joe introduced himself. "Joe Tower. I didn't exactly come to talk with you, but with your father. Les Tenney told me he's been west."
"And you," the other guessed, "aim to go?"
"I've been pondering on it. First I wanted to talk with somebody who's been there."
"I've been there."