"Ma'am, I have hunted all over the southern Utah and Nevada for--
somethin'. An' through your name I learned where to find it--here
in Cottonwoods."
"My name! Oh, I remember. You did know my name when you spoke
first. Well, tell me where you heard it and from whom?"
"At the little village--Glaze, I think it's called--some fifty
miles or more west of here. An' I heard it from a Gentile, a
rider who said you'd know where to tell me to find--"
"What?" she demanded, imperiously, as Lassiter broke off.
"Milly Erne's grave," he answered low, and the words came with a
wrench.
Venters wheeled in his chair to regard Lassiter in amazement, and
Jane slowly raised herself in white, still wonder.
"Milly Erne's grave?" she echoed, in a whisper. "What do you know
of Milly Erne, my best-beloved friend--who died in my arms? What
were you to her?"
"Did I claim to be anythin'?" he inquired. "I know
people--relatives-- who have long wanted to know where she's
buried, that's all."
"Relatives? She never spoke of relatives, except a brother who
was shot in Texas. Lassiter, Milly Erne's grave is in a secret
burying-ground on my property."
"Will you take me there?...You'll be offendin' Mormons worse than
by breakin' bread with me."
"Indeed yes, but I'll do it. Only we must go unseen. To-morrow,
perhaps."
"Thank you, Jane Withersteen," replied the rider, and he bowed to
her and stepped backward out of the court.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38