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Updated: June 17, 2025
"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.
An' the truth of it is here. Oldrin' swore to me that if Dyer died, releasin' the contract, he intended to hunt up your father an' give you back to him. It seems Oldrin' wasn't all bad, en' he sure loved you." Venters leaned forward in passionate remorse. "Oh, Bess! I know Lassiter speaks the truth. For when I shot Oldring he dropped to his knees and fought with unearthly power to speak.
Tom Lassiter bent in his saddle with eagerness as she mentioned that particular, and ran his eyes over the road like one reading the pages of a book. "There!" he said, pointing, "I've been seein' it all the way down, Alan. He was headin' for the hills."
Almost, she thought, she saw his dark, relentless face. Behind him more riders climbed. What did they mean for Fay for Lassiter for herself? "Roll the stone!... Lassiter, I love you!" Under all his deathly pallor, and the blood, and the iron of seared cheek and lined brow, worked a great change. He placed both hands on the rock and then leaned his shoulder there and braced his powerful body.
"Some men once roped an' tied him, an' then held white-iron close to his eyes." "Oh! Men? You mean devils.... Were they your enemies Mormons?" "Yes, ma'am." "To take revenge on a horse! Lassiter, the men of my creed are unnaturally cruel. To my everlasting sorrow I confess it. They have been driven, hated, scourged till their hearts have hardened.
She rose, and for a moment her eyes blurred and swam in tears. "Are you all all right?" she asked, tremulously. "I reckon." "Lassiter, I'll ride away with you. Hide me till danger is past till we are forgotten then take me where you will. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God!" He kissed her hand with the quaint grace and courtesy that came to him in rare moments.
Lassiter will tell you how I shot her for a rustler, saved her life all the story. It's a strange story, Jane, as wild as the sage. But it's true true as her innocence. That you must believe." "Oldring's Masked Rider! Oldring's daughter!" exclaimed Jane "And she's innocent! You ask me to believe much. If this girl is is what you say, how could she be going away with the man who killed her father?"
The embarrassment of the moment did not extend to Lassiter. Almost at once his manner, as he shook hands with Bess, relieved Venters and put the girl at ease. After Venters's words and one quick look at Lassiter, her agitation stilled, and, though she was shy, if she were conscious of anything out of the ordinary in the situation, certainly she did not show it.
"Tell Bern to come for the pack I want to give him and and to say good-by," called Jane, as Lassiter went out. Jane passed the rest of that day in a vain endeavor to decide what and what not to put in the pack for Venters. This task was the last she would ever perform for him, and the gifts were the last she would ever make him.
Where is he?" "Lassiter is with Mrs. Larkin. She is ill. I'll call him," answered Jane, and going to the door she softly called for the rider. A faint, musical jingle preceded his step then his tall form crossed the threshold. "Lassiter, here's Blake, an old rider of mine. He has come back to me and he wishes to speak to you." Blake's brown face turned exceedingly pale.
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