“Ten years ago. He said you killed her father and then adopted her.”
“That drunken thief!” muttered the old man.
“Who—Lila’s father?”
“No—Billy DuMond.”
“I don’t know anythin’ about that part of it,” said Angel. “He merely told me that she wasn’t my sister. You don’t deny that, do yuh?”
“No, I don’t deny it.”
Angel slowly rolled a cigarette, watching the old man’s face.
“Maybe you think I’m not good enough for her, eh? Was that why you were willin’ to give me my share of the cattle, and let me buy out the Eagle? Wanted to get rid of me, eh?”
Angel laughed harshly and lighted his cigarette over the top of the lamp-chimney.
“There wasn’t any question of gettin’ rid of yuh,” said Rance McCoy slowly. “It was yore own proposition. You wanted to run a saloon and be a gambler; so I gave yuh yore share of the cattle. I sent Lila away to school. It cost me a lot of money to educate her, Angel.”