She asked Frank to tell her
brother to give up the search because if he didn't she would
suffer in a way too horrible to tell. She didn't beg. She just
stated a fact an' made the simple request. An' she ended that
letter by sayin' she would soon leave Salt Lake City with the man
she had come to love, en' would never be heard of again.
"I recognized Milly's handwritin', an' I recognized her way of
puttin' things. But that second letter told me of some great
change in her. Ponderin' over it, I felt at last she'd either
come to love that feller an' his religion, or some terrible fear
made her lie an' say so. I couldn't be sure which. But, of
course, I meant to find out. I'll say here, if I'd known Mormons
then as I do now I'd left Milly to her fate. For mebbe she was
right about what she'd suffer if I kept on her trail. But I was
young an' wild them days. First I went to the town where she'd
first been taken, an' I went to the place where she'd been kept.
I got that skunk who owned the place, an' took him out in the
woods, an' made him tell all he knowed. That wasn't much as to
length, but it was pure hell's-fire in substance. This time I
left him some incapacitated for any more skunk work short of
hell. Then I hit the trail for Utah.
"That was fourteen years ago. I saw the incomin' of most of the
Mormons. It was a wild country an' a wild time. I rode from town
to town, village to village, ranch to ranch, camp to camp.
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