But that ain't my game. An' I'd like to know, in
case I don't come back, what you'll do."
"What can I do?"
"I reckon you can go back to Tull. Or stay in the Pass an' be
taken off by rustlers. Which'll you do?"
"I don't know. I can't think very well. But I believe I'd rather
be taken off by rustlers."
Lassiter sat down, put his head in his hands, and remained for a
few moments in what appeared to be deep and painful thought. When
he lifted his face it was haggard, lined, cold as sculptured
marble.
"I'll go. I only mentioned that chance of my not comin' back. I'm
pretty sure to come."
"Need you risk so much? Must you fight more? Haven't you shed
enough blood?"
"I'd like to tell you why I'm goin'," he continued, in coldness
he had seldom used to her. She remarked it, but it was the same
to her as if he had spoken with his old gentle warmth. "But I
reckon I won't. Only, I'll say that mercy an' goodness, such as
is in you, though they're the grand things in human nature, can't
be lived up to on this Utah border. Life's hell out here. You
think--or you used to think--that your religion made this life
heaven. Mebbe them scales on your eyes has dropped now. Jane, I
wouldn't have you no different, an' that's why I'm going to try
to hide you somewhere in this Pass. I'd like to hide many more
women, for I've come to see there are more like you among your
people.
Pages:
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413