A big, fancy house on a spread of land so large no one could mistake it. That’s what Lynch wanted. On a big place you could get indignant about trespassers because they had no plausible excuse. It’s hard to casually dismiss crossing a thousand acres to plant your feet in the middle of someone else’s land. Now, a little place, who could tell? The offender could claim he had been innocently passing by, minding his own business, when he tripped over your paltry border. He could then brush himself off and, with a sly tip of his hat, be gone. Begging your pardon, no harm done.
Lynch was not a big man. Lynch was born with ‘Little Man’ carved onto the cornerstone of his character. But he dreamt big man dreams, and etched them in the acid ink of his soul. In the ranks of hard walking, order giving, land owning hard cases, Lynch had been left out. Secretly wishing he were one of them, Lynch fell asleep.