"That's the story," he said, concluding. "I love her, though I've
never told her. If I did tell her I'd be ready to marry her, and
that seems impossible in this country. I'd be afraid to risk
taking her anywhere. So I intend to do the best I can for her
here."
"The longer I live the stranger life is," mused Lassiter, with
downcast eyes. "I'm reminded of somethin' you once said to Jane
about hands in her game of life. There's that unseen hand of
power, an' Tull's black hand, an' my red one, an' your
indifferent one, an' the girl's little brown, helpless one. An',
Venters there's another one that's all-wise an' all-wonderful.
That's the hand guidin' Jane Withersteen's game of life!...Your
story's one to daze a far clearer head than mine. I can't offer
no advice, even if you asked for it. Mebbe I can help you.
Anyway, I'll hold Oldrin' up when he comes to the village an'
find out about this girl. I knew the rustler years ago. He'll
remember me."
"Lassiter, if I ever meet Oldring I'll kill him!" cried Venters,
with sudden intensity.
"I reckon that'd be perfectly natural," replied the rider.
"Make him think Bess is dead--as she is to him and that old
life."
"Sure, sure, son. Cool down now. If you're goin' to begin pullin'
guns on Tull an' Oldin' you want to be cool. I reckon, though,
you'd better keep hid here. Well, I must be leavin'."
"One thing, Lassiter.
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