by Zane Grey
CHAPTER XX. LASSITER'S WAY
Footprints told the story of little Fay's abduction. In anguish JaneWithersteen turned speechlessly to Lassiter, and, confirming her fears,she saw him gray-faced, aged all in a moment, stricken as if by a mortalblow.
Then all her life seemed to fall about her in wreck and ruin.
"It's all over," she heard her voice whisper. "It's ended. I'mgoing--I'm going--"
"Where?" demanded Lassiter, suddenly looming darkly over her.
"To--to those cruel men--"
"Speak names!" thundered Lassiter.
"To Bishop Dyer--to Tull," went on Jane, shocked into obedience.
"Well--what for?"
"I want little Fay. I can't live without her. They've stolen her as theystole Milly Erne's child. I must have little Fay. I want only her. Igive up. I'll go and tell Bishop Dyer--I'm broken. I'll tell him I'mready for the yoke--only give me back Fay--and--and I'll marry Tull!"
"Never!" hissed Lassiter.
His long arm leaped at her. Almost running, he dragged her under thecottonwoods, across the court, into the huge hall of Withersteen House,and he shut the door with a force that jarred the heavy walls. BlackStar and Night and Bells, since their return, had been locked in thishall, and now they stamped on the stone floor.
Lassiter released Jane and like a dizzy man swayed from her with ahoarse cry and leaned shaking against a table where he kept his rider'saccoutrements. He began to fumble in his saddlebags. His action broughta clinking, metallic sound--the rattling of gun-cartridges. His fingerstrembled as he slipped cartridges into an extra belt. But as he buckledit over the one he habitually wore his hands became steady. This secondbelt contained two guns, smaller than the black ones swinging low, andhe slipped them round so that his coat hid them. Then he fell to swiftaction. Jane Withersteen watched him, fascinated but uncomprehending andshe saw him rapidly saddle Black Star and Night. Then he drew her intothe light of the huge windows, standing over her, gripping her arm withfingers like cold steel.
"Yes, Jane, it's ended--but you're not goin' to Dyer!... I'm goin'instead!"
Looking at him--he was so terrible of aspect--she could not comprehendhis words. Who was this man with the face gray as death, with eyesthat would have made her shriek had she the strength, with the strange,ruthlessly bitter lips? Where was the gentle Lassiter? What was thispresence in the hall, about him, about her--this cold, invisiblepresence?
"Yes, it's ended, Jane," he was saying, so awfully quiet and cool andimplacable, "an' I'm goin' to make a little call. I'll lock you in here,an' when I get back have the saddle-bags full of meat an bread. An' beready to ride!"
"Lassiter!" cried Jane.
Desperately she tried to meet his gray eyes, in vain, desperately shetried again, fought herself as feeling and thought resurged in torment,and she succeeded, and then she knew.
"No--no--no!" she wailed. "You said you'd foregone your vengeance. Youpromised not to kill Bishop Dyer."
"If you want to talk to me about him--leave off the Bishop. I don'tunderstand that name, or its use."
"Oh, hadn't you foregone your vengeance on--on Dyer?
"Yes."
"But--your actions--your words--your guns--your terrible looks!... Theydon't seem foregoing vengeance?"
"Jane, now it's justice."
"You'll--kill him?"
"If God lets me live another hour! If not God--then the devil who drivesme!"
"You'll kill him--for yourself--for your vengeful hate?"
"No!"
"For Milly Erne's sake?"
"No."
"For little Fay's?"
"No!"
"Oh--for whose?"
"For yours!"
"His blood on my soul!" whispered Jane, and she fell to her knees.This was the long-pending hour of fruition. And the habit of years--thereligious passion of her life--leaped from lethargy, and the long monthsof gradual drifting to doubt were as if they had never been. "If youspill his blood it'll be on my soul--and on my father's. Listen."And she clasped his knees, and clung there as he tried to raise her."Listen. Am I nothing to you?"
"Woman--don't trifle at words! I love you! An' I'll soon prove it."
"I'll give myself to you--I'll ride away with you--marry you, if onlyyou'll spare him?"
His answer was a cold, ringing, terrible laugh.
"Lassiter--I'll love you. Spare him!"
"No."
She sprang up in despairing, breaking spirit, and encircled his neckwith her arms, and held him in an embrace that he strove vainly toloosen. "Lassiter, would you kill me? I'm fighting my last fight forthe principles of my youth--love of religion, love of father. You don'tknow--you can't guess the truth, and I can't speak ill. I'm losingall. I'm changing. All I've gone through is nothing to this hour. Pityme--help me in my weakness. You're strong again--oh, so cruelly, coldlystrong! You're killing me. I see you--feel you as some other Lassiter!My master, be merciful--spare him!"
His answer was a ruthless smile.
She clung the closer to him, and leaned her panting breast on him, andlifted her face to his. "Lassiter, I do love you! It's leaped out of myagony. It comes suddenly with a terrible blow of truth. You are a man!I never knew it till now. Some wonderful change came to me when youbuckled on these guns and showed that gray, awful face. I loved youthen. All my life I've loved, but never as now. No woman can love likea broken woman. If it were not for one thing--just one thing--and yet! Ican't speak it--I'd glory in your manhood--the lion in you that means toslay for me. Believe me--and spare Dyer. Be merciful--great as it's inyou to be great.... Oh, listen and believe--I have nothing, but I'm awoman--a beautiful woman, Lassiter--a passionate, loving woman--and Ilove you! Take me--hide me in some wild place--and love me and mend mybroken heart. Spare him and take me away."
She lifted her face closer and closer to his, until their lips nearlytouched, and she hung upon his neck, and with strength almost spentpressed and still pressed her palpitating body to his.
"Kiss me!" she whispered, blindly.
"No--not at your price!" he answered. His voice had changed or she hadlost clearness of hearing.
"Kiss me!... Are you a man? Kiss me and save me!"
"Jane, you never played fair with me. But now you're blisterin' yourlips--blackenin' your soul with lies!"
"By the memory of my mother--by my Bible--no! No, I have no Bible! Butby my hope of heaven I swear I love you!"
Lassiter's gray lips formed soundless words that meant even her lovecould not avail to bend his will. As if the hold of her arms was that ofa child's he loosened it and stepped away.
"Wait! Don't go! Oh, hear a last word!... May a more just and mercifulGod than the God I was taught to worship judge me--forgive me--save me!For I can no longer keep silent!... Lassiter, in pleading for Dyer I'vebeen pleading more for my father. My father was a Mormon master, closeto the leaders of the church. It was my father who sent Dyer out toproselyte. It was my father who had the blue-ice eye and the beard ofgold. It was my father you got trace of in the past years. Truly, Dyerruined Milly Erne--dragged her from her home--to Utah--to Cottonwoods.But it was for my father! If Milly Erne was ever wife of a Mormon thatMormon was my father! I never knew--never will know whether or not shewas a wife. Blind I may be, Lassiter--fanatically faithful to a falsereligion I may have been but I know justice, and my father is beyondhuman justice. Surely he is meeting just punishment--somewhere. Alwaysit has appalled me--the thought of your killing Dyer for my father'ssins. So I have prayed!"
"Jane, the past is dead. In my love for you I forgot the past. Thisthing I'm about to do ain't for myself or Milly or Fay. It's not becauseof anythin' that ever happened in the past, but for what is happenin'right now. It's for you!... An' listen. Since I was a boy I've neverthanked God for anythin'. If there is a God--an' I've come to believeit--I thank Him now for the years that made me Lassiter!... I can reachdown en' feel these big guns, en' know what I can do with them. An',Jane, only one of the miracles Dyer professes t
o believe in can savehim!"
Again for Jane Withersteen came the spinning of her brain in darkness,and as she whirled in endless chaos she seemed to be falling at the feetof a luminous figure--a man--Lassiter--who had saved her from herself,who could not be changed, who would slay rightfully. Then she slippedinto utter blackness.
When she recovered from her faint she became aware that she was lying ona couch near the window in her sitting-room. Her brow felt damp and coldand wet, some one was chafing her hands; she recognized Judkins, andthen saw that his lean, hard face wore the hue and look of excessiveagitation.
"Judkins!" Her voice broke weakly.
"Aw, Miss Withersteen, you're comin' round fine. Now jest lay still alittle. You're all right; everythin's all right."
"Where is--he?"
"Who?"
"Lassiter!"
"You needn't worry none about him."
"Where is he? Tell me--instantly."
"Wal, he's in the other room patchin' up a few triflin' bullet holes."
"Ah!... Bishop' Dyer?"
"When I seen him last--a matter of half an hour ago, he was on hisknees. He was some busy, but he wasn't prayin'!"
"How strangely you talk! I'll sit up. I'm--well, strong again. Tell me.Dyer on his knees! What was he doing?"
"Wal, beggin' your pardon fer blunt talk, Miss Withersteen, Dyer wason his knees an' not prayin'. You remember his big, broad hands? You'veseen 'em raised in blessin' over old gray men an' little curly-headedchildren like--like Fay Larkin! Come to think of thet, I disrememberever hearin' of his liftin' his big hands in blessin' over a woman. Wal,when I seen him last--jest a little while ago--he was on his knees,not prayin', as I remarked--an' he was pressin' his big hands over somebigger wounds."
"Man, you drive me mad! Did Lassiter kill Dyer?"
"Yes."
"Did he kill Tull?"
"No. Tull's out of the village with most of his riders. He's expectedback before evenin'. Lassiter will hev to git away before Tull en' hisriders come in. It's sure death fer him here. An' wuss fer you, too,Miss Withersteen. There'll be some of an uprisin' when Tull gits back."
"I shall ride away with Lassiter. Judkins, tell me all you saw--all youknow about this killing." She realized, without wonder or amaze, howJudkins's one word, affirming the death of Dyer--that the catastrophehad fallen--had completed the change whereby she had been molded orbeaten or broken into another woman. She felt calm, slightly cold,strong as she had not been strong since the first shadow fell upon her.
"I jest saw about all of it, Miss Withersteen, an' I'll be glad to tellyou if you'll only hev patience with me," said Judkins, earnestly. "Yousee, I've been pecooliarly interested, an' nat'rully I'm some excited.An' I talk a lot thet mebbe ain't necessary, but I can't help thet.
"I was at the meetin'-house where Dyer was holdin' court. You know heallus acts as magistrate an' judge when Tull's away. An' the trialwas fer tryin' what's left of my boy riders--thet helped me hold yourcattle--fer a lot of hatched-up things the boys never did. We're used tothet, an' the boys wouldn't hev minded bein' locked up fer a while,or hevin' to dig ditches, or whatever the judge laid down. You see, Idivided the gold you give me among all my boys, an' they all hid it,en' they all feel rich. Howsomever, court was adjourned before the judgepassed sentence. Yes, ma'm, court was adjourned some strange an' quick,much as if lightnin' hed struck the meetin'-house.
"I hed trouble attendin' the trial, but I got in. There was a good manypeople there, all my boys, an' Judge Dyer with his several clerks. Alsohe hed with him the five riders who've been guardin' him pretty close oflate. They was Carter, Wright, Jengessen, an' two new riders from StoneBridge. I didn't hear their names, but I heard they was handy men withguns an' they looked more like rustlers than riders. Anyway, there theywas, the five all in a row.
"Judge Dyer was tellin' Willie Kern, one of my best an' steadiestboys--Dyer was tellin' him how there was a ditch opened near Willie'shome lettin' water through his lot, where it hadn't ought to go. An'Willie was tryin' to git a word in to prove he wasn't at home all theday it happened--which was true, as I know--but Willie couldn't git aword in, an' then Judge Dyer went on layin' down the law. An' all toonct he happened to look down the long room. An' if ever any man turnedto stone he was thet man.
"Nat'rully I looked back to see what hed acted so powerful strange onthe judge. An' there, half-way up the room, in the middle of the wideaisle, stood Lassiter! All white an' black he looked, an' I can't thinkof anythin' he resembled, onless it's death. Venters made thet same roomsome still an' chilly when he called Tull; but this was different. Igive my word, Miss Withersteen, thet I went cold to my very marrow. Idon't know why. But Lassiter had a way about him thet's awful. He spokea word--a name--I couldn't understand it, though he spoke clear as abell. I was too excited, mebbe. Judge Dyer must hev understood it, an' alot more thet was mystery to me, for he pitched forrard out of his chairright onto the platform.
"Then them five riders, Dyer's bodyguards, they jumped up, an' two ofthem thet I found out afterward were the strangers from Stone Bridge,they piled right out of a winder, so quick you couldn't catch yourbreath. It was plain they wasn't Mormons.
"Jengessen, Carter, an' Wright eyed Lassiter, for what must hev been asecond an' seemed like an hour, an' they went white en' strung. But theydidn't weaken nor lose their nerve.
"I hed a good look at Lassiter. He stood sort of stiff, bendin' alittle, an' both his arms were crooked an' his hands looked like ahawk's claws. But there ain't no tellin' how his eyes looked. I knowthis, though, an' thet is his eyes could read the mind of any man aboutto throw a gun. An' in watchin' him, of course, I couldn't see thethree men go fer their guns. An' though I was lookin' right atLassiter--lookin' hard--I couldn't see how he drawed. He was quicker 'neyesight--thet's all. But I seen the red spurtin' of his guns, en' heardhis shots jest the very littlest instant before I heard the shots of theriders. An' when I turned, Wright an' Carter was down, en' Jengessen,who's tough like a steer, was pullin' the trigger of a wabblin' gun. Butit was plain he was shot through, plumb center. An' sudden he fell witha crash, an' his gun clattered on the floor.
"Then there was a hell of a silence. Nobody breathed. Sartin I didn't,anyway. I saw Lassiter slip a smokin' gun back in a belt. But he hadn'tthrowed either of the big black guns, an' I thought thet strange. An'all this was happenin' quick--you can't imagine how quick.
"There come a scrapin' on the floor an' Dyer got up, his face like lead.I wanted to watch Lassiter, but Dyer's face, onct I seen it like thet,glued my eyes. I seen him go fer his gun--why, I could hev done better,quicker--an' then there was a thunderin' shot from Lassiter, an' ithit Dyer's right arm, an' his gun went off as it dropped. He looked atLassiter like a cornered sage-wolf, an' sort of howled, an' reached downfer his gun. He'd jest picked it off the floor an' was raisin' it whenanother thunderin' shot almost tore thet arm off--so it seemed to me.The gun dropped again an' he went down on his knees, kind of flounderin'after it. It was some strange an' terrible to see his awful earnestness.Why would such a man cling so to life? Anyway, he got the gun with lefthand an' was raisin' it, pullin' trigger in his madness, when the thirdthunderin' shot hit his left arm, an' he dropped the gun again. Butthet left arm wasn't useless yet, fer he grabbed up the gun, an' witha shakin' aim thet would hev been pitiful to me--in any other man--hebegan to shoot. One wild bullet struck a man twenty feet from Lassiter.An' it killed thet man, as I seen afterward. Then come a bunch ofthunderin' shots--nine I calkilated after, fer they come so quick Icouldn't count them--an' I knew Lassiter hed turned the black guns looseon Dyer.
"I'm tellin' you straight, Miss Withersteen, fer I want you to know.Afterward you'll git over it. I've seen some soul-rackin' scenes on thisUtah border, but this was the awfulest. I remember I closed my eyes, an'fer a minute I thought of the strangest things, out of place there, suchas you'd never dream would come to mind. I saw the sage, an' runnin'hosses--an' thet's the beautfulest sight to me--an' I saw dim thingsin
the dark, an' there was a kind of hummin' in my ears. An' I rememberdistinctly--fer it was what made all these things whirl out of my mindan' opened my eyes--I remember distinctly it was the smell of gunpowder.
"The court had about adjourned fer thet judge. He was on his knees, en'he wasn't prayin'. He was gaspin' an' tryin' to press his big,floppin', crippled hands over his body. Lassiter had sent all those lastthunderin' shots through his body. Thet was Lassiter's way.
"An' Lassiter spoke, en' if I ever forgit his words I'll never forgitthe sound of his voice.
"'Proselyter, I reckon you'd better call quick on thet God who revealsHisself to you on earth, because He won't be visitin' the place you'regoin' to!"
"An' then I seen Dyer look at his big, hangin' hands thet wasn't bigenough fer the last work he set them to. An' he looked up at Lassiter.An' then he stared horrible at somethin' thet wasn't Lassiter, noranyone there, nor the room, nor the branches of purple sage peepin'into the winder. Whatever he seen, it was with the look of a man whodiscovers somethin' too late. Thet's a terrible look!... An' with ahorrible understandin' cry he slid forrard on his face."
Judkins paused in his narrative, breathing heavily while he wiped hisperspiring brow.
"Thet's about all," he concluded. "Lassiter left the meetin'-house an' Ihurried to catch up with him. He was bleedin' from three gunshots,none of them much to bother him. An' we come right up here. I found youlayin' in the hall, an' I hed to work some over you."
Jane Withersteen offered up no prayer for Dyer's soul.
Lassiter's step sounded in the hall--the familiar soft, silver-clinkingstep--and she heard it with thrilling new emotions in which was a vaguejoy in her very fear of him. The door opened, and she saw him, the oldLassiter, slow, easy, gentle, cool, yet not exactly the same Lassiter.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--tillwe are forgotten--then take me where you will. Your people shall be mypeople, and your God my God!"
He kissed her hand with the quaint grace and courtesy that came to himin rare moments.
"Black Star an' Night are ready," he said, simply.
His quiet mention of the black racers spurred Jane to action. Hurryingto her room, she changed to her rider's suit, packed her jewelry, andthe gold that was left, and all the woman's apparel for which therewas space in the saddle-bags, and then returned to the hall. Black Starstamped his iron-shod hoofs and tossed his beautiful head, and eyed herwith knowing eyes.
"Judkins, I give Bells to you," said Jane. "I hope you will always keephim and be good to him."
Judkins mumbled thanks that he could not speak fluently, and his eyesflashed.
Lassiter strapped Jane's saddle-bags upon Black Star, and led the racersout into the court.
"Judkins, you ride with Jane out into the sage. If you see any riderscomin' shout quick twice. An', Jane, don't look back! I'll catch upsoon. We'll get to the break into the Pass before midnight, an' thenwait until mornin' to go down."
Black Star bent his graceful neck and bowed his noble head, and hisbroad shoulders yielded as he knelt for Jane to mount.
She rode out of the court beside Judkins, through the grove, acrossthe wide lane into the sage, and she realized that she was leavingWithersteen House forever, and she did not look back. A strange, dreamy,calm peace pervaded her soul. Her doom had fallen upon her, but, insteadof finding life no longer worth living she found it doubly significant,full of sweetness as the western breeze, beautiful and unknown as thesage-slope stretching its purple sunset shadows before her. She becameaware of Judkins's hand touching hers; she heard him speak a huskygood-by; then into the place of Bells shot the dead-black, keen, racynose of Night, and she knew Lassiter rode beside her.
"Don't--look--back!" he said, and his voice, too, was not clear.
Facing straight ahead, seeing only the waving, shadowy sage, Jane heldout her gauntleted hand, to feel it enclosed in strong clasp. So sherode on without a backward glance at the beautiful grove of Cottonwoods.She did not seem to think of the past of what she left forever, but ofthe color and mystery and wildness of the sage-slope leading down toDeception Pass, and of the future. She watched the shadows lengthen downthe slope; she felt the cool west wind sweeping by from the rear; andshe wondered at low, yellow clouds sailing swiftly over her and beyond.
"Don't look--back!" said Lassiter.
Thick-driving belts of smoke traveled by on the wind, and with it came astrong, pungent odor of burning wood.
Lassiter had fired Withersteen House! But Jane did not look back.
A misty veil obscured the clear, searching gaze she had kept steadfastlyupon the purple slope and the dim lines of canyons. It passed, as passedthe rolling clouds of smoke, and she saw the valley deepening into theshades of twilight. Night came on, swift as the fleet racers, and starspeeped out to brighten and grow, and the huge, windy, eastern heave ofsage-level paled under a rising moon and turned to silver. Blanchedin moonlight, the sage yet seemed to hold its hue of purple and wasinfinitely more wild and lonely. So the night hours wore on, and JaneWithersteen never once looked back.
