by Zane Grey
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 feet of a luminous figure-a man-Lassiter, grandly chivalrous and heroic, who had saved her from herself, who could not be changed, who would ruthlessly, rightfully slay. There she slipped into utter blackness.
When she recovered from her faint, she became aware that she was lying on a couch near the window in her sitting room. Her brow felt damp and cold and wet; someone was chafing her hands; she recognized Judkins, and then saw that his lean, hard face wore the hue and look of excessive agitation.
"Judkins," her voice broke weakly.
"Aw, Miss Withersteen, you're comin' 'round fine. Now jest lay still a little. 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 his knees. 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 was on his knees an' not prayin'. You remember his big broad hands? You've seen 'em raised in blessin' over old, gray men and little, curly-haired children like... like Fay Larkin. Come to think of thet I disremember ever 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 his bowels tryin' to hold 'em in, but his hands wasn't in no shape jest then to hold...."
"Man! You drive me mad! Did Lassiter kill Dyer?"
"Yes."
"Did he kill Tull?"
"No. Tull is out of the village with most of his riders. He's expected back before evenin'. Lassiter will hev' to get away before Tull an' his riders come in. It's sure death fer him here. An' fer you, too, Miss Withersteen. There'll be some uprisin' when Tull gets back."
"I shall ride away with Lassiter. Judkins, tell me all you saw... all you know about this killing." She realized, without wonder or amazement, how Judkins's one word, affirming the death of Dyer-that the catastrophe had fallen-had completed the change whereby she had been molded or beaten 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 tell you if you'll only hev' patience with me," said Judkins earnestly. "You see, I've been pecooliarly interested, an' nat'rully I'm some excited. An' I talk a lot that mebbe ain't necessary, but I can't help thet.
"I was at the meetin' house where Dyer was holdin' court. You know, he allus acts as magistrate an' judge when Tull's away. An' the trial was fer tryin' what's left of my boys... riders that helped me hold your cattle... fer a lot of hatched-up things the boys never did. We're used to thet, an' the boys wouldn't hev' minded bein' locked up fer a while, or havin' to dig ditches or whatever the judge laid down. You see, I divided the gold you give me among all my boys, an' they all hid it, an' they all feel rich. Howsomever, court was adjourned before the judge passed sentence. Yes, ma'am, court was adjourned some strange an' quick, much as if lightnin' had struck the meetin' house.
"I hed trouble attendin' the trial, but I got in. There was a good many people there, all my boys, an' Judge Dyer with his several clerks. Also he hed with him the five riders who've been guardin' him pretty close of late. They was Carter, Wright, Jengessen, an' two new riders from Stone Bridge. I didn't hear their names, but I heard they was handy men with guns, an' they looked more like rustlers than riders. Anyway there they was, the five all in a row.
"Judge Dyer was tellin' Willie Kern, one of my best an' steadfast boys... Dyer was tellin' him how there was a ditch opened near Willie's home lettin' water through his lot where it hadn't ought to go. An' Willie was tryin' to get a word in to prove he wasn't at home all the day it happened... which was true, as I know... but Willie couldn't get a word in, an' then Judge Dyer went on layin' down the law. An' all to oncet he happened to look down the long room. An' if ever any man turned to stone he was thet man.
"Nat'rully I looked back to see what hed acted so powerful strange on the judge. An' there halfway up the room, in the middle of the wide aisle, stood Lassiter! All white an' black he looked, an' I can't think of anythin' he resembled, onless it's death. Venters made thet same room some still an' chilly when he called Tull, but this was different. I give my word, Miss Withersteen, thet I went cold to my very marrow. I don't know why. But Lassiter has a way about him that's awful. He spoke a word... a name. I couldn't understand it, though he spoke clear as a bell. I was too excited, mebbe. Judge Dyer must hev' understood it, an' a lot more thet was mystery to me, fer he pitched forrard out of his chair right onto the platform.
"Then them five riders, Dyer's bodyguards, they jumped up, an' two of them thet I found out afterwards were the strangers from Stone Bridge, they piled right out of a window, so quick you couldn't catch your breath. It was plain they wasn't Mormons. Jengessen, Carter, an' Wright eyed Lassiter fer what might hev' been a second an' seemed like an hour, an' they went white an' strung. But they didn't weaken or lose their nerve.
"I hed a good look at Lassiter. He stood sort of stiff, bendin' a little, an' both his arms was crooked, an' his hands looked like a hawk's claws. But there ain't no tellin' how his eyes looked. I know this, though, an' thet is his eyes could read the mind of any man about to throw a gun. An' in watchin' him, of course, I couldn't see the three men go fer their guns. An' though I was lookin' hard... I couldn't see how he drew. He was quicker'n eyesight... thet's all. But I seen the red spurtin' of his guns, an' heard his shots jest the very littlest instant before I heard the shots of the riders. An' when I turned, Wright an' Carter was down, an' Jengessen, who's tough like a steer, was pullin' the trigger of a wobblin' gun. But it was plain he was shot through, plumb center. An' sudden he fell with a 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't drawn 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, oncet 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' it hit Dyer's right arm, an' his gun went off as it dropped. Like some cornered sage wolf he looked at Lassiter, an' sort of howled, an' reached down fer his gun. He'd jest picked it off the floor an' was raisin' it when another thunderin' shot almost tore that 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 left hand, an' was raisin' it, pullin' trigger in his weakness when the third thunderin' shot hit his left arm, an' he dropped the gun again. But thet left arm wasn't useless yet, fer he grabbed up the gun, an' with a shakin' aim thet would hev' been pitiful to see... in any other man... he began to shoot. One wild bullet struck a man twenty feet from Lassiter. An' it killed thet man, as I seen afterwards. Then come a bunch of thunderin' shots... nine I calkilated after, fer they come so quick. I couldn't count them... an I knew Lassiter hed turned the black guns loose on Dyer.
"I'm tellin' you straight, Miss Withersteen, fer I want you to know. Afterwards, you'll git over it. I've seen some soul-rackin' scenes on this Utah border, but this was the awfulest. I remember I closed my eyes, an' fer a minute I thought of the str
angest things, out of place there, such as you'd never dream would come to mind. I saw the sage, an' runnin' horses... thet's the beautifulest sight to me... an' I saw dim things in the dark and there was a kind of hummin' in my ears. I remember distinctly, fer it was what made all these things whirl out of my mind an' 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 an' he wasn't prayin'. He was gaspin', an' tryin' to press his big, floppin', crippled hands over his bowels. Lassiter had sent all those last, thunderin' shots through Dyer's bowels. Thet was Lassiter's way.
"An' Lassiter spoke, an', if I ever fergit his words, I'll never fergit the sound of his voice. `Proselytes, I reckon you'd better call quick on that God who reveals hisself to you on earth, because he won't be visitin' the place you're goin' to!' An' then I seen Dyer look at his big, hangin' hands thet wasn't big enough 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, nor anyone 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 who discovers somethin' too late. Thet's a terrible look. An' with a horrible understandin' cry he slid forrard on his face."
judkins paused in his narrative, breathing heavily while he wiped his perspiring brow. "Thet's about all," he concluded. "Lassiter left the meetin' house, an' I hurried to catch up with him. He was bleedin' from those gunshots, none of them much to bother him. An' we come right up here. I found you layin' in the hall, an' I had 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-clinking step-and she heard it with thrilling new emotions in which was a vague joy in her very fear of him. The door opened, and she saw him, the old Lassiter, 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... till we are forgotten... then take me where you will. Your people shall be my people and your God my God!"
He kissed her hand with the quaint grace and courtesy that came to him in rare moments. "Black Star an' Night are ready," he said simply.
His quiet mention of the black racers spurred Jane to action. Hurrying to her room, she changed to her rider's suit, packed her jewelry, and the gold that was left, and all the women's apparel for which there was space in the saddlebags, and then returned to the hall. Black Star stamped his iron-shod hoofs, and tossed his beautiful head and eyed her with knowing eyes.
"Judkins, I give Bells to you," said Jane. "I hope you will always keep him and be good to him."
Judkins mumbled thanks that he could not speak fluently, and his eyes flashed.
Lassiter strapped Jane's saddlebags upon Black Star, then led the racers out into the court.
"Judkins, you ride with Jane out into the sage. If you see any riders comin', shoot quick twice. An' Jane... don't look back! I'll catch up soon. We'll get to the break into the pass before midnight, an' then wait for mornin' to go down."
Black Star bent his graceful neck and bowed his noble head and sagged his broad shoulders as he knelt for Jane to mount.
She rode out of the court beside Judkins, through the grove, across the wide lane into the sage. She realized that she was leaving Withersteen House forever, and she did not look back. A strange, dreamy, calm peace pervaded her soul. Her doom had fallen upon her, but, instead of finding life no longer worth living, she found it doubly significant, full of sweetness as the western breeze, beautiful and unknown as the sage slope stretching its purple sunset shadows before her. She became aware of Judkins's hand touching hers. She heard him speak a husky good-bye, then into the place of Bells shot the dead-black, keen racy nose 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 held out her gauntleted hand, to feel it enclosed in a strong clasp. So she rode 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 of the color and mystery and wildness of the sage slope leading down to Deception Pass, and of the future. She watched the shadows lengthen down the slope. She felt the cool west wind sweeping by from the rear, and she 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 a strong, 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 steadfastly upon the purple slope and the dim lines of canons. It passed, as passed the rolling clouds of smoke, and she saw the valley deepening into the shades of twilight. Night came on, swift as the fleet racers, and stars peeped out to brighten and grow, and the huge, windy, eastern heave of sage paled under a rising moon and turned to silver. Blanched in moonlight the sage yet seemed to hold its line of purple and was infinitely more wild and lonely. So the night hours wore on and Jane Withersteen never once looked back.
Venters and Bess were at great pains to choose the few things they would be able to carry with them on the journey out of Utah.
"Bern, whatever kind of pack's this, anyhow?" questioned Bess, raising from her work with reddened face.
Venters, absorbed in his own task, did not look up at all, and in reply said he had brought so much from Cottonwoods that he did not recollect the half of it.
"A woman packed this!" Bess exclaimed.
He scarcely caught her meaning, but the peculiar tone of her voice caused him instantly to rise, and he saw Bess on her knees before an open pack that he recognized as the one given him by Jane.
"By George!" he ejaculated guiltily, and there at sight of Bess's face he laughed outright.
"A woman packed this," she repeated, fixing woeful, tragic eyes on him.
"Well, is that a crime?"
"There... there is a woman, after all!"
"Now, Bess...."
"You've lied to me!"
Then and there Venters found it imperative to postpone work for the present. All her life Bess had been isolated, but she had inherited certain elements of the eternal feminine.
"But there was a woman and you did lie to me," she kept repeating, after he had explained.
"What of that? Bess, I'll get angry at you in a moment. Remember you've been penned up all your life. I venture to say that, if you'd been out in the world, you'd have had a dozen sweethearts and have told many a lie before this."
"I wouldn't do anything of the kind," declared Bess indignantly.
"Well... perhaps not lie. But you'd have had the sweethearts, you couldn't have helped that... being so pretty."
This remark appeared to be a very clever and fortunate one, and the work of selecting and then of stowing all the packs in the cave went on without further interruption.
Venters closed up the opening of the cave with a thatch of willows and aspens so that not even a bird or a rat could get in to the sacks of grain. This work was in order with the precaution habitually observed by him. He might not be able to get out of Utah and have to return to the valley. But he owed it to Bess to make the attempt, and, in case they were compelled to turn back, he wanted to find that fine store of food and grain intact. The outfit of implements and utensils he packed away in another cave.
"Bess, we have enough to live here all our lives," he had said once dreamily.
"Shall I go roll Balancing Rock?" she had asked in light speech, but with deep blue fire in her eyes.
"No... no."
"Ali, you don't forget the gold and the world?" she had sighed.
"Child! You forget the beautiful dresses and
the travel... and everything."
"Oh! I want to go. But I want to stay!"
"I feel the same way."
They let the eight calves out of the corral, and kept only two of the burros Venters had brought from Cottonwoods. These they intended to ride. Bess freed all her pets, the quail and rabbits and foxes.
The last sunset and twilight and night were the sweetest and saddest they had ever spent in Surprise Valley. Morning brought keen exhilaration and excitement. When Venters had saddled the two burros, strapped on the light packs and the two canteens, the sunlight was dispersing the lazy shadows from the valley. Taking a last look at the caves and the silver spruces, Venters and Bess made a reluctant start, leading the burros. Ring and Whitie looked keen and knowing. Something seemed to drag at Venters's feet and he noticed Bess lagged behind. Never had the climb from terrace to bridge appeared so long.
Not till they reached the opening of the gorge did they stop to rest and take one last look at the valley. The tremendous arch of stone curved, clear and sharp, in outline against the morning sky, and through it streaked the golden shaft. The valley seemed one enchanted circle of glorious veils of gold and wraiths of white and silver haze and dim blue, moving shade-beautiful and wild and unreal as a dream.
"We... we can... th-think of it... always... reremember," sobbed Bess.
"Hush! Don't cry. Our valley has only fitted us for a better life somewhere. Come."
They entered the gorge, and he closed the willow gate. From rosy, golden morning light they passed into cool, dense gloom. The burros pattered up the trail with little, hollow-cracking steps. The gorge widened to narrow outlet and the gloom lightened to gray. At the divide they halted for another rest. Venters's keen remembering gaze searched Balancing Rock and the long incline and the cracked toppling walls, but failed to note the slightest change.
The dogs led the descent, then came Bess leading her burro, then Venters leading his. Bess kept her eyes bent downward. Venters, however, had an irresistible desire to look upward at Balancing Rock. It had always haunted him and now he wondered if he were really to get through the outlet before the huge stone thundered down. He fancied that would be a miracle. Every few steps he answered to the strange, nervous fear and turned to make sure the rock still stood-like a giant statue. As he descended, it grew dimmer in his sight. It changed form; it swayed; it nodded darkly; at last, in his heightened fancy, he saw it heave and roll. As in a dream, when he felt himself falling yet knew he would never fall, so he saw this long-standing thunderbolt of the little Stone Age men plunge down to close forever the outlet to Deception Pass. While he was giving way to unaccountable imaginings of dread, the descent was accomplished without mishap.