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Riders of the Purple Sage-Part22_Zane Gray(1872-1939)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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end."



How much better and freer Jane felt after that confession! She

meant to show him that there was one Mormon who could play a game



or wage a fight in the open.

"I reckon," said Lassiter, and he laughed.



It was the best in her, if the most irritating, that Lassiter

always aroused.



"Will you come?" She looked into his eyes, and for the life of

her could not quite subdue an imperiousness that rose with her



spirit. "I never asked so much of any man--except Bern Venters."

"'Pears to me that you'd run no risk, or Venters, either. But



mebbe that doesn't hold good for me."

"You mean it wouldn't be safe for you to be often here? You look



for ambush in the cottonwoods?"

"Not that so much."



At this juncture little Fay sidled over to Lassiter.

"Has oo a little dirt?" she inquired.



"No, lassie," replied the rider.

Whatever Fay seemed to be searching for in Lassiter's



sun-reddened face and quiet eyes she evidently found. "Oo tan tom

to see me," she added, and with that, shyness gave place to



friendly curiosity. First his sombrero with its leather band and

silver ornaments commanded her attention; next his quirt, and



then the clinking, silver spurs. These held her for some time,

but presently, true to childish fickleness, she left off playing



with them to look for something else. She laughed in glee as she

ran her little hands down the slippery, shiny surface of



Lassiter's leather chaps. Soon she discovered one of the hanging

gun-- sheaths, and she dragged it up and began tugging at the



huge black handle of the gun. Jane Withersteen repressed an

exclamation. What significance there was to her in the little



girl's efforts to dislodge that heavy weapon! Jane Withersteen

saw Fay's play and her beauty and her love as most powerful



allies to her own woman's part in a game that suddenly had

acquired a strange zest and a hint of danger. And as for the



rider, he appeared to have forgotten Jane in the wonder of this

lovely child playing about him. At first he was much the shyer of



the two. Gradually her confidence overcame his backwardness, and

he had the temerity to stroke her golden curls with a great hand.



Fay rewarded his boldness with a smile, and when he had gone to

the extreme of closing that great hand over her little brown one,



she said, simply, "I like oo!"

Sight of his face then made Jane oblivious for the time to his



character as a hater of Mormons. Out of the mother longing that

swelled her breast she divined the child hunger in Lassiter.



He returned the next day, and the next; and upon the following he

came both at morning and at night. Upon the evening of this



fourth day Jane seemed to feel the breaking of a brooding

struggle in Lassiter. During all these visits he had scarcely a



word to say, though he watched her and played absent-mindedly

with Fay. Jane had contented herself with silence. Soon little



Fay substituted for the expression of regard, "I like oo," a

warmer and more generous one, "I love oo."



Thereafter Lassiter came oftener to see Jane and her little

protegee. Daily he grew more gentle and kind, and gradually



developed a quaintly merry mood. In the morning he lifted Fay

upon his horse and let her ride as he walked beside her to the



edge of the sage. In the evening he played with the child at an

infinite variety of games she invented, and then, oftener than



not, he accepted Jane's invitation to supper. No other visitor

came to Withersteen House during those days. So that in spite of



watchfulness he never forgot, Lassiter began to show he felt at

home there. After the meal they walked into the grove of



cottonwoods or up by the lakes, and little Fay held Lassiter's

hand as much as she held Jane's. Thus a strange relationship was



established, and Jane liked it. At twilight they always returned

to the house, where Fay kissed them and went in to her mother.



Lassiter and Jane were left alone.

Then, if there were anything that a good woman could do to win a



man and still preserve her self-respect, it was something which

escaped the natural subtlety of a woman determined to allure.



Jane's vanity, that after all was not great, was soon satisfied

with Lassiter's silent admiration. And her honest desire to lead



him from his dark, blood-stained path would never have blinded

her to what she owed herself. But the driving passion of her



religion, and its call to save Mormons' lives, one life in




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