" Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. "My father!" she whispered. It was the first expression of the mother's blood. " And thus their domesticity at McClintock's began—with the tubbing of a stray yellow dog. And when I ask you why it is you do so, you have no answer. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. Sniveling brats, little fatherless bastards, you should breathe a sigh of relief. Go to her. I’ll need you to go back to the barracks and fetch more men up to town.
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