Riders of the Purple Sage

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER XXIII. THE FALL OF BALANCING ROCK

  Through tear-blurred sight Jane Withersteen watched Venters andElizabeth Erne and the black racers disappear over the ridge of sage.

  "They're gone!" said Lassiter. "An' they're safe now. An' there'll neverbe a day of their comin' happy lives but what they'll remember JaneWithersteen an'--an' Uncle Jim!... I reckon, Jane, we'd better be on ourway."

  The burros obediently wheeled and started down the break with littlecautious steps, but Lassiter had to leash the whining dogs and leadthem. Jane felt herself bound in a feeling that was neither listlessnessnor indifference, yet which rendered her incapable of interest. She wasstill strong in body, but emotionally tired. That hour at the entranceto Deception Pass had been the climax of her suffering--the flood ofher wrath--the last of her sacrifice--the supremity of her love--and theattainment of peace. She thought that if she had little Fay she wouldnot ask any more of life.

  Like an automaton she followed Lassiter down the steep trail of dust andbits of weathered stone; and when the little slides moved with her orpiled around her knees she experienced no alarm. Vague relief came toher in the sense of being enclosed between dark stone walls, deep hiddenfrom the glare of sun, from the glistening sage. Lassiter lengthened thestirrup straps on one of the burros and bade her mount and ride closeto him. She was to keep the burro from cracking his little hard hoofs onstones. Then she was riding on between dark, gleaming walls. There werequiet and rest and coolness in this canyon. She noted indifferently thatthey passed close under shady, bulging shelves of cliff, through patchesof grass and sage and thicket and groves of slender trees, and overwhite, pebbly washes, and around masses of broken rock. The burrostrotted tirelessly; the dogs, once more free, pattered tirelessly; andLassiter led on with never a stop, and at every open place he lookedback. The shade under the walls gave place to sunlight. And presentlythey came to a dense thicket of slender trees, through which they passedto rich, green grass and water. Here Lassiter rested the burros for alittle while, but he was restless, uneasy, silent, always listening,peering under the trees. She dully reflected that enemies were behindthem--before them; still the thought awakened no dread or concern orinterest.

  At his bidding she mounted and rode on close to the heels of his burro.The canyon narrowed; the walls lifted their rugged rims higher; andthe sun shone down hot from the center of the blue stream of sky above.Lassiter traveled slower, with more exceeding care as to the groundhe chose, and he kept speaking low to the dogs. They were nowhunting-dogs--keen, alert, suspicious, sniffing the warm breeze.The monotony of the yellow walls broke in change of color and smoothsurface, and the rugged outline of rims grew craggy. Splits appearedin deep breaks, and gorges running at right angles, and then the Passopened wide at a junction of intersecting canyons.

  Lassiter dismounted, led his burro, called the dogs close, and proceededat snail pace through dark masses of rock and dense thickets under theleft wall. Long he watched and listened before venturing to cross themouths of side canyons. At length he halted, tied his burro, lifted awarning hand to Jane, and then slipped away among the boulders, and,followed by the stealthy dogs, disappeared from sight. The time heremained absent was neither short nor long to Jane Withersteen.

  When he reached her side again he was pale, and his lips were set in ahard line, and his gray eyes glittered coldly. Bidding her dismount, heled the burros into a covert of stones and cedars, and tied them.

  "Jane, I've run into the fellers I've been lookin' for, an' I'm goin'after them," he said.

  "Why?" she asked.

  "I reckon I won't take time to tell you."

  "Couldn't we slip by without being seen?"

  "Likely enough. But that ain't my game. An' I'd like to know, in case Idon't come back, what you'll do."

  "What can I do?"

  "I reckon you can go back to Tull. Or stay in the Pass an' be taken offby rustlers. Which'll you do?"

  "I don't know. I can't think very well. But I believe I'd rather betaken off by rustlers."

  Lassiter sat down, put his head in his hands, and remained for a fewmoments in what appeared to be deep and painful thought. When he liftedhis face it was haggard, lined, cold as sculptured marble.

  "I'll go. I only mentioned that chance of my not comin' back. I'm prettysure to come."

  "Need you risk so much? Must you fight more? Haven't you shed enoughblood?"

  "I'd like to tell you why I'm goin'," he continued, in coldness he hadseldom used to her. She remarked it, but it was the same to her as if hehad spoken with his old gentle warmth. "But I reckon I won't. Only, I'llsay that mercy an' goodness, such as is in you, though they're the grandthings in human nature, can't be lived up to on this Utah border. Life'shell out here. You think--or you used to think--that your religion madethis life heaven. Mebbe them scales on your eyes has dropped now. Jane,I wouldn't have you no different, an' that's why I'm going to try tohide you somewhere in this Pass. I'd like to hide many more women, forI've come to see there are more like you among your people. An' I'd likeyou to see jest how hard an' cruel this border life is. It's bloody.You'd think churches an' churchmen would make it better. They make itworse. You give names to things--bishops, elders, ministers, Mormonism,duty, faith, glory. You dream--or you're driven mad. I'm a man, an'I know. I name fanatics, followers, blind women, oppressors, thieves,ranchers, rustlers, riders. An' we have--what you've lived through theselast months. It can't be helped. But it can't last always. An' rememberthis--some day the border'll be better, cleaner, for the ways of ten likeLassiter!"

  She saw him shake his tall form erect, look at her strangely andsteadfastly, and then, noiselessly, stealthily slip away amid the rocksand trees. Ring and Whitie, not being bidden to follow, remained withJane. She felt extreme weariness, yet somehow it did not seem to be ofher body. And she sat down in the shade and tried to think. She saw acreeping lizard, cactus flowers, the drooping burros, the resting dogs,an eagle high over a yellow crag. Once the meanest flower, a color,the flight of the bee, or any living thing had given her deepest joy.Lassiter had gone off, yielding to his incurable blood lust, probablyto his own death; and she was sorry, but there was no feeling in hersorrow.

  Suddenly from the mouth of the canyon just beyond her rang out a clear,sharp report of a rifle. Echoes clapped. Then followed a piercinglyhigh yell of anguish, quickly breaking. Again echoes clapped, in grimimitation. Dull revolver shots--hoarse yells--pound of hoofs--shrillneighs of horses--commingling of echoes--and again silence! Lassitermust be busily engaged, thought Jane, and no chill trembled over her,no blanching tightened her skin. Yes, the border was a bloody place.But life had always been bloody. Men were blood-spillers. Phases of thehistory of the world flashed through her mind--Greek and Roman wars,dark, mediaeval times, the crimes in the name of religion. On sea, onland, everywhere--shooting, stabbing, cursing, clashing, fighting men!Greed, power, oppression, fanaticism, love, hate, revenge, justice,freedom--for these, men killed one another.

  She lay there under the cedars, gazing up through the delicate lacelikefoliage at the blue sky, and she thought and wondered and did not care.

  More rattling shots disturbed the noonday quiet. She heard a sliding ofweathered rock, a hoarse shout of warning, a yell of alarm, again theclear, sharp crack of the rifle, and another cry that was a cry ofdeath. Then rifle reports pierced a dull volley of revolver shots.Bullets whizzed over Jane's hiding-place; one struck a stone and whinedaway in the air. After that, for a time, succeeded desultory shots; andthen they ceased under long, thundering fire from heavier guns.

  Sooner or later, then, Jane heard the cracking of horses' hoofs on thestones, and the sound came nearer and nearer. Silence intervened untilLassiter's soft, jingling step assured her of his approach. When heappeared he was covered with blood.

  "All right, Jane," he said. "I come back. An' don't worry."

  With water from a canteen he washed the blood from his face and hands.

  "Jane, hurry now. Tear my scarf in
two, en' tie up these places. Thathole through my hand is some inconvenient, worse 'n this at over my ear.There--you're doin' fine! Not a bit nervous--no tremblin'. I reckon Iain't done your courage justice. I'm glad you're brave jest now--you'llneed to be. Well, I was hid pretty good, enough to keep them fromshootin' me deep, but they was slingin' lead close all the time. I usedup all the rifle shells, an' en I went after them. Mebbe you heard. Itwas then I got hit. Had to use up every shell in my own gun, an' theydid, too, as I seen. Rustlers an' Mormons, Jane! An' now I'm packin'five bullet holes in my carcass, an' guns without shells. Hurry, now."

  He unstrapped the saddle-bags from the burros, slipped the saddles andlet them lie, turned the burros loose, and, calling the dogs, led theway through stones and cedars to an open where two horses stood.

  "Jane, are you strong?" he asked.

  "I think so. I'm not tired," Jane replied.

  "I don't mean that way. Can you bear up?"

  "I think I can bear anything."

  "I reckon you look a little cold an' thick. So I'm preparin' you."

  "For what?"

  "I didn't tell you why I jest had to go after them fellers. I couldn'ttell you. I believe you'd have died. But I can tell you now--if you'llbear up under a shock?"

  "Go on, my friend."

  "I've got little Fay! Alive--bad hurt--but she'll live!"

  Jane Withersteen's dead-locked feeling, rent by Lassiter's deep,quivering voice, leaped into an agony of sensitive life.

  "Here," he added, and showed her where little Fay lay on the grass.

  Unable to speak, unable to stand, Jane dropped on her knees. By thatlong, beautiful golden hair Jane recognized the beloved Fay. But Fay'sloveliness was gone. Her face was drawn and looked old with grief. Butshe was not dead--her heart beat--and Jane Withersteen gathered strengthand lived again.

  "You see I jest had to go after Fay," Lassiter was saying, as he kneltto bathe her little pale face. "But I reckon I don't want no morechoices like the one I had to make. There was a crippled feller in thatbunch, Jane. Mebbe Venters crippled him. Anyway, that's why they wereholding up here. I seen little Fay first thing, en' was hard put to itto figure out a way to get her. An' I wanted hosses, too. I had to takechances. So I crawled close to their camp. One feller jumped a hoss withlittle Fay, an' when I shot him, of course she dropped. She's stunnedan' bruised--she fell right on her head. Jane, she's comin' to! Sheain't bad hurt!"

  Fay's long lashes fluttered; her eyes opened. At first they seemedglazed over. They looked dazed by pain. Then they quickened, darkened,to shine with intelligence--bewilderment--memory--and sudden wonderfuljoy.

  "Muvver--Jane!" she whispered.

  "Oh, little Fay, little Fay!" cried Jane, lifting, clasping the child toher.

  "Now, we've got to rustle!" said Lassiter, in grim coolness. "Jane, lookdown the Pass!"

  Across the mounds of rock and sage Jane caught sight of a band of ridersfiling out of the narrow neck of the Pass; and in the lead was a whitehorse, which, even at a distance of a mile or more, she knew.

  "Tull!" she almost screamed.

  "I reckon. But, Jane, we've still got the game in our hands. They'reridin' tired hosses. Venters likely give them a chase. He wouldn'tforget that. An' we've fresh hosses."

  Hurriedly he strapped on the saddle-bags, gave quick glance to girthsand cinches and stirrups, then leaped astride.

  "Lift little Fay up," he said.

  With shaking arms Jane complied.

  "Get back your nerve, woman! This's life or death now. Mind that. Climbup! Keep your wits. Stick close to me. Watch where your hoss's goin' en'ride!"

  Somehow Jane mounted; somehow found strength to hold the reins, to spur,to cling on, to ride. A horrible quaking, craven fear possessed hersoul. Lassiter led the swift flight across the wide space, over washes,through sage, into a narrow canyon where the rapid clatter of hoofsrapped sharply from the walls. The wind roared in her ears; the gleamingcliffs swept by; trail and sage and grass moved under her. Lassiter'sbandaged, blood-stained face turned to her; he shouted encouragement; helooked back down the Pass; he spurred his horse. Jane clung on, spurringlikewise. And the horses settled from hard, furious gallop into along-striding, driving run. She had never ridden at anything like thatpace; desperately she tried to get the swing of the horse, to be of somehelp to him in that race, to see the best of the ground and guidehim into it. But she failed of everything except to keep her seat thesaddle, and to spur and spur. At times she closed her eyes unable tobear sight of Fay's golden curls streaming in the wind. She could notpray; she could not rail; she no longer cared for herself. All of life,of good, of use in the world, of hope in heaven entered in Lassiter'sride with little Fay to safety. She would have tried to turn theiron-jawed brute she rode, she would have given herself to thatrelentless, dark-browed Tull. But she knew Lassiter would turn with her,so she rode on and on.

  Whether that run was of moments or hours Jane Withersteen could nottell. Lassiter's horse covered her with froth that blew back in whitestreams. Both horses ran their limit, were allowed slow down in time tosave them, and went on dripping, heaving, staggering.

  "Oh, Lassiter, we must run--we must run!"

  He looked back, saying nothing. The bandage had blown from his head,and blood trickled down his face. He was bowing under the strainof injuries, of the ride, of his burden. Yet how cool and gay helooked--how intrepid!

  The horses walked, trotted, galloped, ran, to fall again to walk. Hourssped or dragged. Time was an instant--an eternity. Jane Withersteen felthell pursuing her, and dared not look back for fear she would fall fromher horse.

  "Oh, Lassiter! Is he coming?"

  The grim rider looked over his shoulder, but said no word. Fay's goldenhair floated on the breeze. The sun shone; the walls gleamed; the sageglistened. And then it seemed the sun vanished, the walls shaded, thesage paled. The horses walked--trotted--galloped--ran--to fall againto walk. Shadows gathered under shelving cliffs. The canyon turned,brightened, opened into a long, wide, wall-enclosed valley. Again thesun, lowering in the west, reddened the sage. Far ahead round, scrawledstone appeared to block the Pass.

  "Bear up, Jane, bear up!" called Lassiter. "It's our game, if you don'tweaken."

  "Lassiter! Go on--alone! Save little Fay!"

  "Only with you!"

  "Oh!--I'm a coward--a miserable coward! I can't fight or think or hopeor pray! I'm lost! Oh, Lassiter, look back! Is he coming? I'll not--holdout--"

  "Keep your breath, woman, an' ride not for yourself or for me, but forFay!"

  A last breaking run across the sage brought Lassiter's horse to a walk.

  "He's done," said the rider.

  "Oh, no--no!" moaned Jane.

  "Look back, Jane, look back. Three--four miles we've come across thisvalley, en' no Tull yet in sight. Only a few more miles!"

  Jane looked back over the long stretch of sage, and found the narrow gapin the wall, out of which came a file of dark horses with a white horsein the lead. Sight of the riders acted upon Jane as a stimulant. Theweight of cold, horrible terror lessened. And, gazing forward at thedogs, at Lassiter's limping horse, at the blood on his face, at therocks growing nearer, last at Fay's golden hair, the ice left her veins,and slowly, strangely, she gained hold of strength that she believedwould see her to the safety Lassiter promised. And, as she gazed,Lassiter's horse stumbled and fell.

  He swung his leg and slipped from the saddle.

  "Jane, take the child," he said, and lifted Fay up. Jane clasped herarms suddenly strong. "They're gainin'," went on Lassiter, as he watchedthe pursuing riders. "But we'll beat 'em yet."

  Turning with Jane's bridle in his hand, he was about to start when hesaw the saddle-bag on the fallen horse.

  "I've jest about got time," he muttered, and with swift fingers thatdid not blunder or fumble he loosened the bag and threw it over hisshoulder. Then he started to run, leading Jane's horse, and he ran, andtrotted, and walked, and ran again. Close ahead now Jane saw a rise ofb
are rock. Lassiter reached it, searched along the base, and, findinga low place, dragged the weary horse up and over round, smooth stone.Looking backward, Jane saw Tull's white horse not a mile distant, withriders strung out in a long line behind him. Looking forward, she sawmore valley to the right, and to the left a towering cliff. Lassiterpulled the horse and kept on.

  Little Fay lay in her arms with wide-open eyes--eyes which were stillshadowed by pain, but no longer fixed, glazed in terror. The goldencurls blew across Jane's lips; the little hands feebly clasped her arm;a ghost of a troubled, trustful smile hovered round the sweet lips. AndJane Withersteen awoke to the spirit of a lioness.

  Lassiter was leading the horse up a smooth slope toward cedar trees oftwisted and bleached appearance. Among these he halted.

  "Jane, give me the girl en' get down," he said. As if it wrenched him heunbuckled the empty black guns with a strange air of finality. He thenreceived Fay in his arms and stood a moment looking backward. Tull'swhite horse mounted the ridge of round stone, and several bays or blacksfollowed. "I wonder what he'll think when he sees them empty guns. Jane,bring your saddle-bag and climb after me."

  A glistening, wonderful bare slope, with little holes, swelled up andup to lose itself in a frowning yellow cliff. Jane closely watched hersteps and climbed behind Lassiter. He moved slowly. Perhaps he was onlyhusbanding his strength. But she saw drops of blood on the stone, andthen she knew. They climbed and climbed without looking back. Her breastlabored; she began to feel as if little points of fiery steel werepenetrating her side into her lungs. She heard the panting of Lassiterand the quicker panting of the dogs.

  "Wait--here," he said.

  Before her rose a bulge of stone, nicked with little cut steps, andabove that a corner of yellow wall, and overhanging that a vast,ponderous cliff.

  The dogs pattered up, disappeared round the corner. Lassiter mountedthe steps with Fay, and he swayed like a drunken man, and he toodisappeared. But instantly he returned alone, and half ran, half slippeddown to her.

  Then from below pealed up hoarse shouts of angry men. Tull and severalof his riders had reached the spot where Lassiter had parted with hisguns.

  "You'll need that breath--mebbe!" said Lassiter, facing downward, withglittering eyes.

  "Now, Jane, the last pull," he went on. "Walk up them little steps. I'llfollow an' steady you. Don't think. Jest go. Little Fay's above. Hereyes are open. 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 JaneWithersteen walked up that ladder of cut steps.

  He pushed her round the corner of the wall. Fay lay, with wide staringeyes, in the shade of a gloomy wall. The dogs waited. Lassiter pickedup the child and turned into a dark cleft. It zigzagged. It widened.It opened. Jane was amazed at a wonderfully smooth and steep inclineleading up between ruined, splintered, toppling walls. A red hazefrom the setting sun filled this passage. Lassiter climbed with slow,measured steps, and blood dripped from him to make splotches on thewhite stone. Jane tried not to step in his blood, but was compelled, forshe found no other footing. The saddle-bag began to drag her down; shegasped for breath, she thought her heart was bursting. Slower, sloweryet the rider climbed, whistling as he breathed. The incline widened.Huge pinnacles and monuments of stone stood alone, leaning fearfully.Red sunset haze shone through cracks where the wall had split. Jane didnot look high, but she felt the overshadowing of broken rims above.She felt that it was a fearful, menacing place. And she climbed on inheartrending effort. And she fell beside Lassiter and Fay at the top ofthe incline in a narrow, smooth divide.

  He staggered to his feet--staggered to a huge, leaning rock that restedon a small pedestal. He put his hand on it--the hand that had been shotthrough--and Jane saw blood drip from the ragged hole. Then he fell.

  "Jane--I--can't--do--it!" he whispered.

  "What?"

  "Roll the--stone!... All my--life I've loved--to roll stones--en' nowI--can't!"

  "What of it? You talk strangely. Why roll that stone?"

  "I planned to--fetch you here--to roll this stone. See! It'll smash thecrags--loosen the walls--close the outlet!"

  As Jane Withersteen gazed down that long incline, walled in by crumblingcliffs, awaiting only the slightest jar to make them fall asunder,she saw Tull appear at the bottom and begin to climb. A rider followedhim--another--and another.

  "See! Tull! The riders!"

  "Yes--they'll get us--now."

  "Why? Haven't you strength left to roll the stone?"

  "Jane--it ain't that--I've lost my nerve!"

  "You!... Lassiter!"

  "I wanted to roll it--meant to--but I--can't. Venters's valley is downbehind here. We could--live there. But if I roll the stone--we're shutin for always. I don't dare. I'm thinkin' of you!"

  "Lassiter! Roll the stone!" she cried.

  He arose, tottering, but with set face, and again he placed the bloodyhand on the Balancing Rock. Jane Withersteen gazed from him down thepassageway. Tull was climbing. Almost, she thought, she saw his dark,relentless face. Behind him more riders climbed. What did they mean forFay--for Lassiter--for herself?

  "Roll the stone!... Lassiter, I love you!"

  Under all his deathly pallor, and the blood, and the iron of searedcheek and lined brow, worked a great change. He placed both hands on therock and then leaned his shoulder there and braced his powerful body.

  ROLL THE STONE!

  It stirred, it groaned, it grated, it moved, and with a slow grinding,as of wrathful relief, began to lean. It had waited ages to fall, andnow was slow in starting. Then, as if suddenly instinct with life, itleaped hurtlingly down to alight on the steep incline, to bound moreswiftly into the air, to gather momentum, to plunge into the loftyleaning crag below. The crag thundered into atoms. A wave of air--asplitting shock! Dust shrouded the sunset red of shaking rims; dustshrouded Tull as he fell on his knees with uplifted arms. Shafts andmonuments and sections of wall fell majestically.

  From the depths there rose a long-drawn rumbling roar. The outlet toDeception Pass closed forever.