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Updated: June 13, 2025
Then Venters climbed down, saddled his horse, tied on his pack, and, with a word to his dogs, was about to ride out to meet Lassiter, when he concluded to wait for him there, on higher ground, where the outlook was commanding. It had been long since Venters had experienced friendly greeting from a man. Lassiter's warmed in him something that had grown cold from neglect.
"But if Chadron brought that terrible man in here, why should the horrible creature turn against him?" she asked, doubt and suspicion grasping the seeming fault in Lassiter's tale. "Chadron refused to make settlement with him for the killin' he done because he didn't git Macdonald. Thorn told Alan that with his own bloody tongue."
She jest said to me, 'Where's muvver Jane?" Without a fear or a tremor or a slip or a touch of Lassiter's hand Jane Withersteen walked up that ladder of cut steps. He pushed her round the corner of the wall. Fay lay, with wide staring eyes, in the shade of a gloomy wall. The dogs waited. Lassiter picked up the child and turned into a dark cleft. It zigzagged. It widened. It opened.
Jane turned Lassiter's horse loose in the thick grass. "You will want him to be near you," she said, "or I'd have him taken to the alfalfa fields." At her call appeared women who began at once to bustle about, hurrying to and fro, setting the table. Then Jane, excusing herself, went within.
"I reckon mebbe the best hoss'll prove himself yet," said Lassiter, "an', Jane, if it ever comes to that race I'd like you to be on Wrangle." "I'd like that, too," rejoined Venters. "But, Jane, maybe Lassiter's hint is extreme. Bad as your prospects are, you'll surely never come to the running point." "Who knows!" she replied, with mournful smile. "No, no, Jane, it can't be so bad as all that.
First his sombrero with its leather band and silver ornaments commanded her attention; next his quirt, and then the clinking, silver spurs. These held her for some time, but presently, true to childish fickleness, she left off playing with them to look for something else. She laughed in glee as she ran her little hands down the slippery, shiny surface of Lassiter's leather chaps.
Remorse was heavy on her for the injustice she had done Macdonald that day, and shame for her sharp words bowed her head as she rode at old Tom Lassiter's hand. "He'll run the old devil down ag'in," Tom spoke confidently, as of a thing that admitted no dispute, "and take that young woman home if he finds her livin'. Many thanks he'll git for it from them and her.
Go on alone! Save little Fay!" "Only with you!" "Oh! I'm a coward a miserable coward! I can't fight or think or hope or pray! I'm lost! Oh, Lassiter, look back! Is he coming? I'll not hold out " "Keep your breath, woman, an' ride not for yourself or for me, but for Fay!" A last breaking run across the sage brought Lassiter's horse to a walk. "He's done," said the rider. "Oh, no no!" moaned Jane.
Lassiter's cool argument made Venters waver, not in determination to go, but in hope of success. "Bess, I want you to know. Lassiter says the trip's almost useless now. I'm afraid he's right. We've got about one chance in a hundred to go through. Shall we take it? Shall we go on?" "We'll go on," replied Bess. "That settles it, Lassiter."
She led the way, with the bridle of Lassiter's horse over her arm. They entered a grove and walked down a wide path shaded by great low-branching cottonwoods. The last rays of the setting sun sent golden bars through the leaves. The grass was deep and rich, welcome contrast to sage-tired eyes.
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