"Well, you will have to decide that."
"Well, I'm goin' to—before ma comes. Dog-gone it! You know how it is tryin' to explain things to a woman. Wimmin don't understand them kind of things."
"I don't know about that, Lorry."
Lorry nodded. "I tell you, dad—you kind of set a pace for me. And I figure I don't want folks to say: 'There goes Jim Waring's boy.' If they're goin' to say anything, I want it to be: 'There goes Lorry Waring.'"
Waring knew that kind of pride if he knew anything. He was proud of his son. And Waring's most difficult task was to keep from influencing him in any way. He wanted the boy to feel free to do as he thought best.
"You were in that fight at Sterling," said Waring, gesturing toward the south.
"But that was different," said Lorry. "Them coyotes was pluggin' at us, and we just nacherally had to let 'em have it. And besides we was workin' for the law."
"I understand there wasn't any law in Sterling About that time."
"Well, we made some," asserted Lorry.
"And that's just what this war means. It's being fought to make law."