You remember? That Terry would shoot a
man before he was twenty-five?"
"Have I ever forgotten?" she said huskily. "Have I ever let it go out of
my mind? But it isn't the danger of Terry shooting. It's the danger of
Terry being shot. If he should reach for a gun against the sheriff--that
professional mankiller--Vance, something has to be done!"
"Right," he nodded. "I wouldn't trust Terry in the face of such a
temptation to violence. Not for a moment!"
The natural stubbornness on which he had counted hardened in her face.
"I don't know."
"It would be an acid test, Elizabeth. But perhaps now is the time. You've
spent twenty-four years training him. If he isn't what he ought to be
now, he never will be, no doubt."
"It may be that you're right," she said gloomily. "Twenty-four years!
Yes, and I've filled about half of my time with Terry and his training.
Vance, you are right. If he has the elements of a mankiller in him after
what I've done for him, then he's a hopeless case. The sheriff shall
stay! The sheriff shall stay!"
She kept repeating it, as though the repetition of the phrase might bring
her courage.
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