Presently she raised it to greet Lassiter with
something like a smile. "My righteous brethren are at work
again," she said, in scorn. She had stifled the leap of her
wrath, but for perhaps the first time in her life a bitter
derision curled her lips. Lassiter's cool gray eyes seemed to
pierce her. "I said I was prepared for anything; but that was
hardly true. But why would they--anybody stampede my
cattle?"
"That's a Mormon's godly way of bringin' a woman to her
knees."
"Lassiter, I'll die before I ever bend my knees. I might be led I
won't be driven. Do you expect the herd to bolt?"
"I don't like the looks of them big steers. But you can never
tell. Cattle sometimes stampede as easily as buffalo. Any little
flash or move will start them. A rider gettin' down an' walkin'
toward them sometimes will make them jump an' fly. Then again
nothin' seems to scare them. But I reckon that white flare will
do the biz. It's a new one on me, an' I've seen some ridin' an'
rustlin'. It jest takes one of them God-fearin' Mormons to think
of devilish tricks."
"Lassiter, might not this trick be done by Oldring's men?" asked
Jane, ever grasping at straws.
"It might be, but it ain't," replied Lassiter. "Oldring's an
honest thief. He don't skulk behind ridges to scatter your cattle
to the four winds. He rides down on you, an' if you don't like it
you can throw a gun.
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