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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Ruth Jones," was the cool reply. "How old are you?" "Twenty." "Where were you born?" went on the judge. He allowed time for the clerk to record her answers. "Panguitch, Utah." "Were your parents Mormons?" "Yes." "Are you a Mormon?" "Yes." "Are you a married woman?" "No." The answer was instant, cold, final. It seemed to the truth. Almost Shefford believed she spoke truth.
It was his habit to call upon Mother Smith in the afternoons. From the first her talk to him hinted of a leaning toward thought of making him a Mormon. Her husband and the other men took up her cue and spoke of their religion, casually at first, but gradually opening their minds to free and simple discussion of their faith. Shefford lent respectful attention.
"Say, is that a usual morning's task with the pack-animals?" asked Shefford. "They're all pretty decent to-day, except Dynamite," replied Withers. "She's got to be worked out." Shefford felt both amusement and consternation.
I'll feel safer about my supplies and stock than I've ever been.... Joe, I'll back this stranger for all I'm worth. He's square.... And, Shefford, Joe Lake is a Mormon of the younger generation. I want to start you right. You can trust him as you trust me. He's white clean through. And he's the best horse-wrangler in Utah."
Well, Joe, between you and me, as old friends now, that trial established one fact, even if it couldn't be proved.... Those women are sealed wives." Joe had no reply for that. He looked gloomy, and there was a stern line in his lips. To-day he seemed more like a Mormon. "Judge Stone knew that as well as I knew," went on Shefford. "Any man of penetration could have seen it.
Shefford listened intently to the bishop's sermon. In some respects it was the best he had ever heard. In others it was impossible for an intelligent man to regard seriously. It was very long, lasting an hour and a half, and the parts that were helpful to Shefford came from the experience and wisdom of a man who had grown old in the desert.
They have no God they can see and hear and feel, who is with them day and night." It was late in the afternoon when Bishop Kane rode through the camp and halted on his way to speak to Shefford. He was kind and fatherly. "Young man, are you open to faith?" he questioned gravely. "I think I am," replied Shefford, thankful he could answer readily. "Then come into the fold. You are a lost sheep.
"How so?" inquired the other. Then Shefford related the incident following his arrival. "Perhaps my action was hasty," he concluded, apologetically. "I didn't think. Indeed, I'm surprised at myself." Presbrey made no comment and his face was as hard to read as one of the distant bluffs. "But what did the man mean?" asked Shefford, conscious of a little heat. "I'm a stranger out here.
A squall swooped and roared down upon him, and the wind that bore the driving white pellets of snow, almost like hail, was so freezing bitter cold that the former wind seemed warm in comparison. The squall passed as swiftly as it had come, and it left Shefford so benumbed he could not hold the bridle. He tumbled off his horse and walked.
Shefford felt no fear he really had little experience of physical fear but it was certain that he gritted his teeth and welcomed whatever was to come to him.
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