It was an hour or so later when Paul Lane rode in and stabled his horse. Nan was in the kitchen, preparing a meal, and Rex was sitting on the front porch, reading an old magazine.
Rex had never seen the old man, but he knew it must be Nan’s father. The old man came up to the porch and looked Rex over quizzically.
‘How’s yore head?’ he asked.
‘It is much better, thank you,’ replied Rex. ‘You are Mr. Lane? My name is Morgan.’
The old man did not offer to shake hands with him.
‘What Morgan?’ he asked coldly.
‘What Morgan? I don’t know just what you mean, Mr. Lane.’
‘Any relation to the Morgans of Mesa City?’
Rex shook his head quickly. ‘I guess not. At least, I don’t believe I am.’
Nan heard them talking and came out to the porch.