Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey (best novels in english txt) š
- Author: Zane Grey
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āDo it, then. If youāre going to make your life a lesson to Mormon women, let me make mine a lesson to the men. Right is right. I believe in you, and hereās my life to prove it.ā
āYou hint it may mean your life!ā said Jane, breathless and low.
āWe wonāt speak of that. I want to come back. I want to do what every rider aches in his secret heart to do for you.... Miss Withersteen, I hoped itād not be necessary to tell you that my mother on her deathbed told me to have courage. She knew how the thing galled meāshe told me to come back.... Will you take me?ā
āGod bless you, Blake! Yes, Iāll take you back. And will youāwill you accept gold from me?ā
āMiss Withersteen!ā
āI just gave Judkins a bag of gold. Iāll give you one. If you will not take it you must not come back. You might ride for me a few monthsāweeksādays till the storm breaks. Then youād have nothing, and be in disgrace with your people. Weāll forearm you against poverty, and me against endless regret. Iāll give you gold which you can hideātill some future time.ā
āWell, if it pleases you,ā replied Blake. āBut you know I never thought of pay. Now, Miss Withersteen, one thing more. I want to see this man Lassiter. Is he here?ā
āYes, but, BlakeāwhatāNeed you see him? Why?ā asked Jane, instantly worried. āI can speak to himātell him about you.ā
āThat wonāt do. I want toāIāve got to tell him myself. Where is he?ā
āLassiter is with Mrs. Larkin. She is ill. Iāll call him,ā answered Jane, and going to the door she softly called for the rider. A faint, musical jingle preceded his stepāthen his tall form crossed the threshold.
āLassiter, hereās Blake, an old rider of mine. He has come back to me and he wishes to speak to you.ā
Blakeās brown face turned exceedingly pale.
āYes, I had to speak to you,ā he said, swiftly. āMy nameās Blake. Iām a Mormon and a rider. Lately I quit Miss Withersteen. Iāve come to beg her to take me back. Now I donāt know you; but I knowāwhat you are. So Iāve this to say to your face. It would never occur to this woman to imagineālet alone suspect me to be a spy. She couldnāt think it might just be a low plot to come here and shoot you in the back. Jane Withersteen hasnāt that kind of a mind.... Well, Iāve not come for that. I want to help herāto pull a bridle along with Judkins andāand you. The thing isādo you believe me?ā
āI reckon I do,ā replied Lassiter. How this slow, cool speech contrasted with Blakeās hot, impulsive words! āYou might have saved some of your breath. See here, Blake, cinch this in your mind. Lassiter has met some square Mormons! Anā mebbeāā
āBlake,ā interrupted Jane, nervously anxious to terminate a colloquy that she perceived was an ordeal for him. āGo at once and fetch me a report of my horses.ā
āMiss Withersteen!... You mean the big droveādown in the sage-cleared fields?ā
āOf course,ā replied Jane. āMy horses are all there, except the blooded stock I keep here.ā
āHavenāt you heardāthen?ā
āHeard? No! Whatās happened to them?ā
āTheyāre gone, Miss Withersteen, gone these ten days past. Dorn told me, and I rode down to see for myself.ā
āLassiterādid you know?ā asked Jane, whirling to him.
āI reckon so.... But what was the use to tell you?ā
It was Lassiter turning away his face and Blake studying the stone flags at his feet that brought Jane to the understanding of what she betrayed. She strove desperately, but she could not rise immediately from such a blow.
āMy horses! My horses! Whatās become of them?ā
āDorn said the riders report another drive by Oldring.... And I trailed the horses miles down the slope toward Deception Pass.ā
āMy red herdās gone! My horses gone! The white herd will go next. I can stand that. But if I lost Black Star and Night, it would be like parting with my own flesh and blood. LassiterāBlakeāam I in danger of losing my racers?ā
āA rustlerāorāor anybody stealinā hosses of yours would most of all want the blacks,ā said Lassiter. His evasive reply was affirmative enough. The other rider nodded gloomy acquiescence.
āOh! Oh!ā Jane Withersteen choked, with violent utterance.
āLet me take charge of the blacks?ā asked Blake. āOne more rider wonāt be any great help to Judkins. But I might hold Black Star and Night, if you put such store on their value.ā
āValue! Blake, I love my racers. Besides, thereās another reason why I mustnāt lose them. You go to the stables. Go with Jerd every day when he runs the horses, and donāt let them out of your sight. If you would please meāwin my gratitude, guard my black racers.ā
When Blake had mounted and ridden out of the court Lassiter regarded Jane with the smile that was becoming rarer as the days sped by.
āāPears to me, as Blake says, you do put some store on them hosses. Now I aināt gainsayinā that the Arabians are the handsomest hosses I ever seen. But Bells can beat Night, anā run neck enā neck with Black Star.ā
āLassiter, donāt tease me now. Iām miserableāsick. Bells is fast, but he canāt stay with the blacks, and you know it. Only Wrangle can do that.ā
āIāll bet that big raw-boned brute can moreān show his heels to your black racers. Jane, out there in the sage, on a long chase, Wrangle could kill your favorites.ā
āNo, no,ā replied Jane, impatiently. āLassiter, why do you say that so often? I know youāve teased me at times, and I believe itās only kindness. Youāre always trying to keep my mind off worry. But you mean more by this repeated mention of my racers?ā
āI reckon so.ā Lassiter paused, and for the thousandth time in her presence moved his black sombrero round and round, as if counting the silver pieces on the band. āWell, Jane, Iāve sort of read a little thatās passinā in your mind.ā
āYou think I might fly from my homeāfrom Cottonwoodsāfrom the Utah border?ā
āI reckon. Anā if you ever do anā get away with the blacks I wouldnāt like to see Wrangle left here on the sage. Wrangle could catch you. I know Venters had him. But you can never tell. Mebbe he hasnāt got him now.... Besidesāthings are happeninā, anā somethinā of the same queer nature might have happened to Venters.ā
āGod knows youāre right!... Poor Bern, how long heās gone! In my trouble Iāve been forgetting him. But, Lassiter, Iāve little fear for him. Iāve heard my riders say heās as keen as a wolf.... As to your reading my thoughtsāwell, your suggestion makes an actual thought of what was only one of my dreams. I believe I dreamed of flying from this wild borderland, Lassiter. Iāve strange dreams. Iām not always practical and thinking of my many duties, as you said once. For instanceāif I daredāif I dared Iād ask you to saddle the blacks and ride away with meāand hide me.ā
āJane!ā
The riderās sunburnt face turned white. A few times Jane had seen Lassiterās cool calm brokenāwhen he had met little Fay, when he had learned how and why he had come to love both child and mistress, when he had stood beside Milly Erneās grave. But one and all they could not be considered in the light of his present agitation. Not only did Lassiter turn whiteānot only did he grow tense, not only did he lose his coolness, but also he suddenly, violently, hungrily took her into his arms and crushed her to his breast.
āLassiter!ā cried Jane, trembling. It was an action for which she took sole blame. Instantly, as if dazed, weakened, he released her. āForgive me!ā went on Jane. āIām always forgetting yourāyour feelings. I thought of you as my faithful friend. Iām always making you out more than human... only, let me sayāI meant thatāabout riding away. Iām wretched, sick of thisāthisāOh, something bitter and black grows on my heart!ā
āJane, the hellāof it,ā he replied, with deep intake of breath, āis you canāt ride away. Mebbe realizinā it accounts for my grabbinā youāthat way, as much as the crazy boyās rapture your words gave me. I donāt understand myself.... But the hell of this game isāyou canāt ride away.ā
āLassiter!... What on earth do you mean? Iām an absolutely free woman.ā
āYou aināt absolutely anythinā of the kind.... I reckon Iāve got to tell you!ā
āTell me all. Itās uncertainty that makes me a coward. Itās faith and hopeāblind love, if you will, that makes me miserable. Every day I awake believingāstill believing. The day grows, and with it doubts, fears, and that black bat hate that bites hotter and hotter into my heart. Then comes nightāI prayāI pray for all, and for myselfāI sleepāand I awake free once more, trustful, faithful, to believeāto hope! Then, O my God! I grow and live a thousand years till night again!... But if you want to see me a woman, tell me why I canāt ride awayātell me what more Iām to loseātell me the worst.ā
āJane, youāre watched. Thereās no single move of yours, except when youāre hid in your house, that aināt seen by sharp eyes. The cottonwood groveās full of creepinā, crawlinā men. Like Indians in the grass. When you rode, which wasnāt often lately, the sage was full of sneakinā men. At night they crawl under your windows into the court, anā I reckon into the house. Jane Withersteen, you know, never locked a door! This here groveās a humminā bee-hive of mysterious happeninās. Jane, it aināt so much that these spies keep out of my way as me keepinā out of theirs. Theyāre goinā to try to kill me. Thatās plain. But mebbe Iām as hard to shoot in the back as in the face. So far Iāve seen fit to watch only. This all means, Jane, that youāre a marked woman. You canāt get awayānot now. Mebbe later, when youāre broken, you might. But thatās sure doubtful. Jane, youāre to lose the cattle thatās leftāyour home anā ranchāanā Amber Spring. You canāt even hide a sack of gold! For it couldnāt be slipped out of the house, day or night, anā hid or buried, let alone be rid off with. You may lose all. Iām tellinā you, Jane, hopinā to prepare you, if the worst does come. I told you once before about that strange power Iāve got to feel things.ā
āLassiter, what can I do?ā
āNothinā, I reckon, except know whatās cominā anā wait anā be game. If youād let me make a call on Tull, anā a long-deferred call onāā
āHush!... Hush!ā she whispered.
āWell, even that wouldnāt help you any in the end.ā
āWhat does it mean? Oh, what does it mean? I am my fatherās daughterāa Mormon, yet I canāt see! Iāve not failed in religionāin duty. For years Iāve given with a free and full heart. When my father died I was rich. If Iām still rich itās because I couldnāt find enough ways to become poor. What am I, what are my possessions to set in motion such intensity of secret oppression?ā
āJane, the mind behind it all is an empire builder.ā
āBut, Lassiter, I would give freelyāall I own to avert thisāthis wretched thing. If I gaveāthat would leave me with faith still. Surely myāmy churchmen think of my soul? If I lose my trust in themāā
āChild, be still!ā said Lassiter, with a dark dignity that had in it something of pity. āYou are a woman, fine enā big anā strong, anā your heart matches your size. But in mind youāre a child. Iāll say a little moreāthen Iām done. Iāll never mention this again. Among many thousands of women youāre one who has bucked against your churchmen. They tried you out, anā failed of persuasion, anā finally of threats. You meet now the cold steel of a will as far from Christlike as the universe is wide. Youāre to be broken. Your bodyās to be held, given to some man, made, if possible, to bring children into the world. But your soul?... What do they care for your soul?ā
SOLITUDE AND STORM
In his hidden valley Venters awakened from sleep, and his ears rang with innumerable melodies from full-throated mockingbirds, and his eyes opened wide upon the glorious golden shaft of sunlight shining through the great stone bridge. The circle of cliffs surrounding Surprise Valley lay shrouded in morning mist, a dim blue low down along the terraces, a creamy, moving cloud along the ramparts. The oak forest in the center was a plumed and tufted oval of gold.
He saw Bess under the spruces. Upon her complete recovery of strength she always
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