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Updated: June 13, 2025
Thet was Lassiter's way. "An' Lassiter spoke, en' if I ever forgit his words I'll never forgit the sound of his voice. "'Proselyter, I reckon you'd better call quick on thet God who reveals Hisself to you on earth, because He won't be visitin' the place you're goin' to!" "An' then I seen Dyer look at his big, hangin' hands thet wasn't big enough fer the last work he set them to.
Whether that run was of moments or hours Jane Withersteen could not tell. Lassiter's horse covered her with froth that blew back in white streams. Both horses ran their limit, were allowed slow down in time to save them, and went on dripping, heaving, staggering. "Oh, Lassiter, we must run we must run!" He looked back, saying nothing.
"See here, lady, look at your hands now, right now. Aren't they fine, firm, white hands? Aren't they bloody now? Lassiter's blood! That's a queer thing to stain your beautiful hands. But if you could only see deeper you'd find a redder color of blood. Heart color, Jane!" "Oh!... My friend!" "No, Jane, I'm not one to quit when the game grows hot, no more than you.
Her smiles and tears seemingly dazed him. Presently as something like calmness returned, she went to Lassiter's weary horse. "I will water him myself," she said, and she led the horse to a trough under a huge old cottonwood. With nimble fingers she loosened the bridle and removed the bit. The horse snorted and bent his head.
And, gazing forward at the dogs, at Lassiter's limping horse, at the blood on his face, at the rocks growing nearer, last at Fay's golden hair, the ice left her veins, and slowly, strangely, she gained hold of strength that she believed would see her to the safety Lassiter promised. And, as she gazed, Lassiter's horse stumbled and fell. He swung his leg and slipped from the saddle.
And through the watches of that sleepless night Jane Withersteen, in fear and sorrow and doubt, came finally to believe that if she must throw herself into Lassiter's arms to make him abide by "Thou shalt not kill!" she would yet do well. In the morning she expected Lassiter at the usual hour, but she was not able to go at once to the court, so she sent little Fay. Mrs.
Lassiter's cool gray eyes seemed to pierce her. "I said I was prepared for anything; but that was hardly true. But why would they anybody stampede my cattle?" "That's a Mormon's godly way of bringin' a woman to her knees." "Lassiter, I'll die before I ever bend my knees. I might be led I won't be driven. Do you expect the herd to bolt?" "I don't like the looks of them big steers.
When the first shock of her futile appeal to Lassiter had passed, Jane took his cold, silent condemnation and abrupt departure not so much as a refusal to her entreaty as a hurt and stunned bitterness for her attempt at his betrayal. Upon further thought and slow consideration of Lassiter's past actions, she believed he would return and forgive her.
An', Jane, didn't I always say Bern would come back to get us out? Shore it's just the same." How cool, easy, slow, and mild this Lassiter seemed! Had the man grown old, Shefford wondered? The past to him manifestly was only yesterday, and the danger of the present was as nothing. Looking in Lassiter's face, Shefford was baffled.
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