Whatever the price to be paid, she must keep
Lassiter close to her; she must shield from him the man who had
led Milly Erne to Cottonwoods. In her fear she so controlled her
mind that she did not whisper this Mormon's name to her own soul,
she did not even think it. Besides, beyond this thing she regarded
as a sacred obligation thrust upon her, was the need of a helper,
of a friend, of a champion in this critical time. If she could rule
this gun-man, as Venters had called him, if she could even keep
him from shedding blood, what strategy to play his flame and his
presence against the game of oppression her churchmen were waging
against her? Never would she forget the effect on Tull and his
men when Venters shouted Lassiter's name. If she could not wholly
control Lassiter, then what she could do might put off the fatal
day.
One of her safe racers was a dark bay, and she called him Bells
because of the way he struck his iron shoes on the stones. When
Jerd led out this slender, beautifully built horse Lassiter
suddenly became all eyes. A rider's love of a thoroughbred shone
in them. Round and round Bells he walked, plainly weakening all
the time in his determination not to take one of Jane's favorite
racers.
"Lassiter, you're half horse, and Bells sees it already," said
Jane, laughing. "Look at his eyes. He likes you. He'll love you,
too. How can you resist him? Oh, Lassiter, but Bells can run!
It's nip and tuck between him and Wrangle, and only Black Star
can beat him.
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