riders of the purple sage-第29节

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　everything　dear　to　her　except　hope　of　heaven。　Passionately　devoted　as　she　was　to　her　religion；　she　had　yet　refused　to　marry　a　Mormon。　But　a　situation　had　developed　wherein　self　paled　in　the　great　white　light　of　religious　duty　of　the　highest　order。　That　was　the　leading　motive；　the　divinely　spiritual　one；　but　there　were　other　motives；　which；　like　tentacles；　aided　in　drawing　her　will　to　the　acceptance　of　a　possible　abnegation。　And　through　the　watches　of　that　sleepless　night　Jane　Withersteen；　in　fear　and　sorrow　and　doubt；　came　finally　to　believe　that　if　she　must　throw　herself　into　Lassiter's　arms　to　make　him　abide　by　〃Thou　shalt　not　kill！〃　she　would　yet　do　well。

In　the　morning　she　expected　Lassiter　at　the　usual　hour；　but　she　was　not　able　to　go　at　once　to　the　court；　so　she　sent　little　Fay。　Mrs。　Larkin　was　ill　and　required　attention。　It　appeared　that　the　mother；　from　the　time　of　her　arrival　at　Withersteen　House；　had　relaxed　and　was　slowly　losing　her　hold　on　life。　Jane　had　believed　that　absence　of　worry　and　responsibility　coupled　with　good　nursing　and　comfort　would　mend　Mrs。　Larkin's　broken　health。　Such；　however；　was　not　the　case。

When　Jane　did　get　out　to　the　court；　Fay　was　there　alone；　and　at　the　moment　embarking　on　a　dubious　voyage　down　the　stone…lined　amber　stream　upon　a　craft　of　two　brooms　and　a　pillow。　Fay　was　as　delightfully　wet　as　she　could　possibly　wish　to　get。

Clatter　of　hoofs　distracted　Fay　and　interrupted　the　scolding　she　was　gleefully　receiving　from　Jane。　The　sound　was　not　the　light…spirited　trot　that　Bells　made　when　Lassiter　rode　him　into　the　outer　court。　This　was　slower　and　heavier；　and　Jane　did　not　recognize　in　it　any　of　her　other　horses。　The　appearance　of　Bishop　Dyer　startled　Jane。　He　dismounted　with　his　rapid；　jerky　motion　flung　the　bridle；　and；　as　he　turned　toward　the　inner　court　and　stalked　up　on　the　stone　flags；　his　boots　rang。　In　his　authoritative　front；　and　in　the　red　anger　unmistakably　flaming　in　his　face；　he　reminded　Jane　of　her　father。

〃Is　that　the　Larkin　pauper？〃　he　asked；　bruskly；　without　any　greeting　to　Jane。

〃It's　Mrs。　Larkin's　little　girl；〃　replied　Jane；　slowly。

〃I　hear　you　intend　to　raise　the　child？〃

〃Yes。〃

〃Of　course　you　mean　to　give　her　Mormon　bringing…up？〃

〃No。〃

His　questions　had　been　swift。　She　was　amazed　at　a　feeling　that　some　one　else　was　replying　for　her。

〃I've　come　to　say　a　few　things　to　you。〃　He　stopped　to　measure　her　with　stern；　speculative　eye。

Jane　Withersteen　loved　this　man。　From　earliest　childhood　she　had　been　taught　to　revere　and　love　bishops　of　her　church。　And　for　ten　years　Bishop　Dyer　had　been　the　closest　friend　and　counselor　of　her　father；　and　for　the　greater　part　of　that　period　her　own　friend　and　Scriptural　teacher。　Her　interpretation　of　her　creed　and　her　religious　activity　in　fidelity　to　it；　her　acceptance　of　mysterious　and　holy　Mormon　truths；　were　all　invested　in　this　Bishop。　Bishop　Dyer　as　an　entity　was　next　to　God。　He　was　God's　mouthpiece　to　the　little　Mormon　community　at　Cottonwoods。　God　revealed　himself　in　secret　to　this　mortal。

And　Jane　Withersteen　suddenly　suffered　a　paralyzing　affront　to　her　consciousness　of　reverence　by　some　strange；　irresistible　twist　of　thought　wherein　she　saw　this　Bishop　as　a　man。　And　the　train　of　thought　hurdled　the　rising；　crying　protests　of　that　other　self　whose　poise　she　had　lost。　It　was　not　her　Bishop　who　eyed　her　in　curious　measurement。　It　was　a　man　who　tramped　into　her　presence　without　removing　his　hat；　who　had　no　greeting　for　her；　who　had　no　semblance　of　courtesy。　In　looks；　as　in　action；　he　made　her　think　of　a　bull　stamping　cross…grained　into　a　corral。　She　had　heard　of　Bishop　Dyer　forgetting　the　minister　in　the　fury　of　a　common　man；　and　now　she　was　to　feel　it。　The　glance　by　which　she　measured　him　in　turn　momentarily　veiled　the　divine　in　the　ordinary。　He　looked　a　rancher；　he　was　booted；　spurred；　and　covered　with　dust；　he　carried　a　gun　at　his　hip；　and　she　remembered　that　he　had　been　known　to　use　it。　But　during　the　long　moment　while　he　watched　her　there　was　nothing　commonplace　in　the　slow…gathering　might　of　his　wrath。

〃Brother　Tull　has　talked　to　me；〃　he　began。　〃It　was　your　father's　wish　that　you　marry　Tull；　and　my　order。　You　refused　him？〃

〃Yes。〃

〃You　would　not　give　up　your　friendship　with　that　tramp　Venters？〃

〃No。〃

〃But　you'll　do　as　I　order！〃　he　thundered。　〃Why；　Jane　Withersteen；　you　are　in　danger　of　becoming　a　heretic！　You　can　thank　your　Gentile　friends　for　that。　You　face　the　damning　of　your　soul　to　perdition。〃

In　the　flux　and　reflux　of　the　whirling　torture　of　Jane's　mind；　that　new；　daring　spirit　of　hers　vanished　in　the　old　habitual　order　of　her　life。　She　was　a　Mormon；　and　the　Bishop　regained　ascendance。

〃It's　well　I　got　you　in　time；　Jane　Withersteen。　What　would　your　father　have　said　to　these　goings…on　of　yours？　He　would　have　put　you　in　a　stone　cage　on　bread　and　water。　He　would　have　taught　you　something　about　Mormonism。　Remember；　you're　a　born　Mormon。　There　have　been　Mormons　who　turned　hereticdamn　their　souls！but　no　born　Mormon　ever　left　us　yet。　Ah；　I　see　your　shame。　Your　faith　is　not　shaken。　You　are　only　a　wild　girl。〃　The　Bishop's　tone　softened。　〃Well；　it's　enough　that　I　got　to　you　in　time。。。。Now　tell　me　about　this　Lassiter。　I　hear　strange　things。〃

〃What　do　you　wish　to　know？〃　queried　Jane。

〃About　this　man。　You　hired　him？〃

〃Yes；　he's　riding　for　me。　When　my　riders　left　me　I　had　to　have　any　one　I　could　get。〃

〃Is　it　true　what　I　hearthat　he's　a　gun…man；　a　Mormon…hater；　steeped　in　blood？〃

〃Trueterribly　true；　I　fear。〃

〃But　what's　he　doing　here　in　Cottonwoods？　This　place　isn't　notorious　enough　for　such　a　man。　Sterling　and　the　villages　north；　where　there's　universal　gun…packing　and　fights　every　daywhere　there　are　more　men　like　him；　it　seems　to　me　they　would　attract　him　most。　We're　only　a　wild；　lonely　border　settlement。　It's　only　recently　that　the　rustlers　have　made　killings　here。　Nor　have　there　been　saloons　till　lately；　nor　the　drifting　in　of　outcasts。　Has　not　this　gun…man　some　special　mission　here？〃

Jane　maintained　silence。

〃Tell　me；〃　ordered　Bishop　Dyer；　sharply。

〃Yes；〃　she　replied。

〃Do　you　know　what　it　is？〃

〃Yes。〃

〃Tell　me　that。〃

〃Bishop　Dyer；　I　don't　want　to　tell。〃

He　waved　his　hand　in　an　imperative　gesture　of　command。　The　red　once　more　leaped　to　his　face；　and　in　his　steel…blue　eyes　glinted　a　pin…point　of　curiosity。

〃That　first　day；〃　whispered　Jane；　〃Lassiter　said　he　came　here　to　find　Milly　Erne's　grave！〃

With　downcast　eyes　Jane　watched　the　swift　flow　of　the　amber　water。　She　saw　it　and　tried　to　think　of　it；　of　the　stones；　of　the　ferns；　but；　like　her　body；　her　mind　was　in　a　leaden　vise。　Only　the　Bishop's　voice　could　release　her。　Seemingly　there　was　silence　of　longer　duration　than　all　her　former　life。

〃Tor　whatelse？〃　When　Bishop　Dyer's　voice　did　cleave　the　silence　it　was　high；　curiously　shrill；　and　on　the　point　of　breaking。　It　released　Jane's　tongue；　but　she　could　not　lift　her　eyes。

〃To　kill　the　man　who　persuaded　Milly　Erne　to　abandon　her　home　and　her　husbandand　her　God！〃

With　wonderful　distinctness　Jane　Withersteen　heard　her　own　clear　voice。　She　heard　the　water　murmur　at　her　feet　and　flow　on　to　the　sea；　she　heard　the　rushing　of　all　the　waters　in　the　world。　They　filled　her　ears　with　low；　unreal　murmuringsthese　sounds　that　deadened　her　brain　and　yet　could　not　break　the　long　and　terrible　silence。　Then；　from　somewhere　from　an　immeasurable　distancecame　a　slow；　guarded；　clinking；　clanking　step。　Into　her　it　shot　electrifying　life。　It　released　the　weight　upon　her　numbed　eyelids。　Lifting　her　eyes　she　sawashen；　shaken；　stricken　not　the　Bishop　but　the　man！　And　beyond　him；　from　round　the　corner　came　that　soft；　silvery　step。　A　long　black　boot　with　a　gleaming　spur　swept　into　sightand　then　Lassiter！　Bishop　Dyer　did　not　see；　did　not　hear：　he　stared　at　Jane　in　the　throes　of　sudden　revelation。

〃Ah；　I　understand！〃　he　cried；　in　hoarse　accents。　〃That's　why　you　made　love　to　this　Lassiterto　bind　his　hands！〃

It　was　Jane's　gaze　riveted　upon　the　rider　that　made　Bishop　Dyer　turn。　Then　clear　sight　failed　her。　Dizzily；　in　a　blur；　she　saw　the　Bishop's　hand　jerk　to　his　hip。　She　saw　gleam　of　blue　and　spout　of　red。　In　her　ears　burst　a　thundering　report。　The　court　floated　in　darkening　circles　around　her；　and　she　fell　into　utter　blackness。

The　darkness　lightened；　turned　to　slow…drifting　haze；　and　lifted。　Through　a　thin　film　of　blue　smoke　she　saw　the　rough…hewn　timbers　of　the　court　roof。　A　cool；　damp　touch　moved　across　her　brow。　She　smelled　powder；　and　it　was　that　which　galvanized　her　suspended　thought。　She　moved；　to　see　that　she　lay　prone　upon　the　stone　flags　with　her　head　on　Lassiter's　knee；　and　he　was　bathing　her　brow　with　water　from　the　stream。　The　same　swift　glance；　shifting　low；　brought　into　range　of　her　sight　a　smoking　gun　and　splashes　of　blood。

〃Ah…h！〃　she　moaned；　and　was　drifting；　sinking　again　into　darkness；　when　Lassiter's　voice　arrested　her。

〃It's　all　right；　Jane。　It's　all　right。〃

〃Didyoukillhim？〃　she　whispered。

〃Who？　That　fat　party　who　was　here？　No。　I　didn't　kill　him。〃

〃Oh！。。。Lassiter！〃

〃Say！　It　was　queer　for　you　to　faint。　I　thought　you　were　such　a　strong　woman；　not　faintish　like　that。　You're　all　right　nowonly　some　pale。　I　thought　you'd　never　com