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Updated: May 17, 2025
The burros trotted tirelessly; the dogs, once more free, pattered tirelessly; and Lassiter led on with never a stop, and at every open place he looked back. The shade under the walls gave place to sunlight. And presently they came to a dense thicket of slender trees, through which they passed to rich, green grass and water.
He was cursing himself for a thoughtless fool when the man's tall form became familiar and he recognized Lassiter. Then the reversal of emotions changed his run to a walk; he tried to call out, but his voice refused to carry; when he reached camp there was Lassiter staring at the white-faced girl. By that time Ring and Whitie had recognized him. "Hello, Venters!
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.
Yes, sir, thet big rustler you know he's as broad as he is long, an' the powerfulest build of a man yes, sir, the nerve had been taken out of him. Then, after a little, he began to talk an' said a lot to Lassiter, an' by an' by it didn't take much of an eye to see thet Lassiter was gittin' hit hard. I never seen him anyway but cooler 'n ice till then.
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.
Lassiter was leading the horse up a smooth slope toward cedar trees of twisted and bleached appearance. Among these he halted. "Jane, give me the girl en' get down," he said. As if it wrenched him he unbuckled the empty black guns with a strange air of finality. He then received Fay in his arms and stood a moment looking backward.
If she could mitigate his hatred of Mormons, or at least keep him from killing more of them, not only would she be saving her people, but also be leading back this bloodspiller to some semblance of the human. "Mornin', ma'am," he said, black sombrero in hand. "Lassiter I'm not an old woman, or even a madam," she replied, with her bright smile. "If you can't say Miss Withersteen call me Jane."
"Bishop Dyer, I don't want to tell." He waved his hand in an imperative gesture of command. The red once more leaped to his face, and in his steel-blue eyes glinted a pin-point of curiosity. "That first day," whispered Jane, "Lassiter said he came here to find Milly Erne's grave!" With downcast eyes Jane watched the swift flow of the amber water.
Get what things you want to take with you." "Oh yes Mother Jane, let us hurry!" cried Fay. "I'm so full I can't talk my heart hurts so!" Jane Withersteen's face shone with an exceedingly radiant light, and a glory blended with a terrible fear in her eyes. "Fay! my little Fay!" Lassiter had stood there with his mild, clear blue eyes upon Shefford.
Near her stood a lean, stoop-shouldered man whose long hair was perfectly white. His gaunt face was bare of beard. It had strange, sloping, sad lines. And he was staring with mild, surprised eyes. The moment held Shefford mute till sight of Fay Larkin's tear-wet face broke the spell. He leaped forward and his strong hands reached for the woman and the man. "Jane Withersteen!... Lassiter!
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