"
"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 as a friend?
Think! Why, you'd ride down into the village with those terrible
guns and kill my enemies--who are also my churchmen."
"I reckon I might be riled up to jest about that," he replied,
dryly.
She held out both hands to him.
"Lassiter! I'll accept your friendship--be proud of it--return
it--if I may keep you from killing another Mormon."
"I'll tell you one thing," he said, bluntly, as the gray
lightning formed in his eyes. "You're too good a woman to be
sacrificed as you're goin' to be....No, I reckon you an' me can't
be friends on such terms."
In her earnestness she stepped closer to him, repelled yet
fascinated by the sudden transition of his moods. That he would
fight for her was at once horrible and wonderful.
"You came here to kill a man--the man whom Milly Erne--"
"The man who dragged Milly Erne to hell--put it that way!...Jane
Withersteen, yes, that's why I came here. I'd tell so much to no
other livin' soul....There're things such a woman as you'd never
dream of-- so don't mention her again. Not till you tell me the
name of the man!"
"Tell you! I? Never!"
"I reckon you will. An' I'll never ask you. I'm a man of strange
beliefs an' ways of thinkin', an' I seem to see into the future
an' feel things hard to explain.
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