"Not too strong. The folks in Stacey are giving Hardy the laugh. He's not so popular as he might be."
"I can't say that I blame Hardy, either. The boy was wrong."
"Not a bit. Lorry was wrong."
"It will blow over," said Torrance. "I had no idea he was your son."
Waring leaned back in his chair. "John, I had two reasons for coming down here. One was to get my horse. That's settled. Now I want to talk about leasing a few thousand acres down this way, with water-rights. I'm through with the other game. I want to run a few cattle in here, under fence. I think it will pay."
Torrance shook his head. "The Mormons and the Apaches will keep you poor, Jim."
"They might, if I tried it alone. But I have a partner just up from the border. You remember Pat. He's been customs inspector at Nogales for some time."
"I should say I do remember him!"
"Well, he asked me to look around and write to him. I think we could do well enough here. What do you know about the land north of here, on up toward the Santa Fé?"
Torrance pondered the situation. The times were, indeed, changing when men like Waring and Pat ceased to ride the high trails and settled down to ranching under fence. The day of the gunman was past, but two such men as Pat and Waring would suppress by their mere presence in the country the petty rustling and law-breaking that had made Torrance's position difficult at times.