e of his dark sayings--that
if she were lost to him she might as well be lost to heaven. Jane
Withersteen's common sense took arms against the binding limits of her
religion; and she doubted that her Bishop, whom she had been taught had
direct communication with God--would damn her soul for refusing to marry
a Mormon. As for Tull and his churchmen, when they had harassed her,
perhaps made her poor, they would find her unchangeable, and then she
would get back most of what she had lost. So she reasoned, true at last
to her faith in all men, and in their ultimate goodness.

The clank of iron hoofs upon the stone courtyard drew her hurriedly
from her retirement. There, beside his horse, stood Lassiter, his dark
apparel and the great black gun-sheaths contrasting singularly with his
gentle smile. Jane's active mind took up her interest in him and her
half-determined desire to use what charm she had to foil his evident
design in visiting Cottonwoods. If she could mitigate his hatred of
Mormons, or at least keep him from killing more of them, not only would
she be saving her people, but also be leading back this bloodspiller to
some semblance of the human.

"Mornin', ma'am," he said, black sombrero in hand.

"Lassiter I'm not an old woman, or even a madam," she replied, with her
bright smile. "If you can't say Miss Withersteen--call me Jane."

"I reckon Jane would be easier. First names are always handy for me."

"Well, use mine, then. Lassiter, I'm glad to see you. I'm in trouble."

Then she told him of Judkins's return, of the driving of the red herd,
of Venters's departure on Wrangle, and the calling-in of her riders.

"'Pears to me you're some smilin' an' pretty for a woman with so much
trouble," he remarked.

"Lassiter! Are you paying me compliments? But, seriously I've made up
my mind not to be miserable. I've lost much, and I'll lose more.
Nevertheless, I won't be sour, and I hope I'll never be unhappy--again."

Lassiter twisted his hat round and round, as was his way, and took his
time in replying.

"Women are strange to me. I got to back-trailin' myself from them long
ago. But I'd like a game woman. Might I ask, seein' as how you take this
trouble, if you're goin' to fight?"

"Fight! How? Even if I would, I haven't a friend except that boy who
doesn't dare stay in the village."

"I make bold to say, ma'am--Jane--that there's another, if you want
him."

"Lassiter!... Thank you. But how can I accept you