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Updated: May 23, 2025
The great room into which he looked was empty. "What was it?" he cried, leaping down. "What were they doing with Winnsome?" "It was the king," said Nathaniel, struggling to master himself. "The king put his arms around Winnsome and she struck him!" "That was all?" "He kissed her as she fought and I yelled." "She struck him!" Neil cried. "God bless little Winnsome, Nat! and God bless her!"
Directly in front of them, on the lower floor, stood the Mormon king, and at his side, partly held in the embrace of one of his arms was Winnsome!
"It is impossible. I am speaking of Winnsome. Arbor Croche's house is in the heart of the town and guarded by dogs. I doubt if she would go, anyway. She has always been like a little sister to Marion and me and she has come to believe something as we do. I hate to leave her." "Obadiah told me about her mother," ventured Nathaniel. "He said that some day Winnsome will be a queen."
Again the fingers dug into Nathaniel's arm, and pressing close to the sheriff he bent down his head. A low, quick whisper fell in his ear. "Don't give up hope! Marion Winnsome " The sheriff jerked himself erect without finishing. Hurried footsteps had come close to their heels. The rear guards were so near that they could have touched them with their guns.
"If he won't take it for that I've got more. I'll go a thousand!" Neil stood silent, wondering if his companion was mad. Nathaniel saw the look in his face and his own flushed with sudden excitement. "Don't you understand?" he cried. "That note means Heaven or hell for Winnsome it means life her whole future! And you know what this cell means for us," he said more calmly.
Barely had he disappeared when a voice called to him. It was Winnsome. The girl ran up to him holding something in her hand. It was a pistol. "You may need it!" she exclaimed. "We brought two!" Nathaniel reached out hesitatingly, but not to take the weapon.
Then, in a moment, he began stroking the shimmering glory of her hair, caressing the silken curls between his fingers until the blood seemed as if it must burst, like hot sweat from Nathaniel's face. Suddenly Winnsome drew back from him, the pallor gone from her face, her eyes blazing like angry stars.
"It means that we're at the end of our rope, that the game is up, that neither of us will ever see Marion or Winnsome again. That note is the last word in life from us from you. It's a dying prayer. Tell Winnsome your love, tell her that it is your last wish that she go out into the big, free world away from this hell-hole, away from Strang, away from the Mormons, and live as other women live!
He had known that girl, years ago, as Neil knew Winnsome; in years of wandering he had almost forgotten her until this letter came. It had brought many memories back to him with shocking clearness. The old folk were still in the little home under the hill; they received his letters; they received the money he sent them each month but they wanted him. The girl wrote with merciless candor.
"It would be madness worse than madness!" interposed Neil, steadying himself. "There will be a dozen rifles at that door when they open it. We must return to the cell. It is worth dying a harder death to hear from Marion and Winnsome. And we will hear from them before night!" They retreated into the dungeon. A few minutes later the door opened cautiously at the head of the corridor.
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