Venters leaned forward in passionate remorse.
“Oh, Bess! I know Lassiter speaks the truth. For when I shot Oldring he dropped to his knees and fought with unearthly power to speak. And he said: ‘Man – why – didn’t – you – wait? Bess was – ’ Then he fell dead. And I’ve been haunted by his look and words. Oh, Bess, what a strange, splendid thing for Oldring to do! It all seems impossible. But, dear, you really are not what you thought.”
“Elizabeth Erne!” cried Jane Withersteen. “I loved your mother and I see her in you!”
What had been incredible from the lips of men became, in the tone, look, and gesture of a woman, a wonderful truth for Bess. With little tremblings of all her slender body she rocked to and fro on her knees. The yearning wistfulness of her eyes changed to solemn splendor of joy. She believed. She was realizing happiness. And as the process of thought was slow, so were the variations of her expression. Her eyes reflected the transformation of her soul. Dark, brooding, hopeless belief – clouds of gloom – drifted, paled, vanished in glorious light. An exquisite rose flush – a glow – shone from her face as she slowly began to rise from her knees. A spirit uplifted her. All that she had held as base dropped from her.
Venters watched her in joy too deep for words. By it he divined something of what Lassiter’s revelation meant to Bess, but he knew he could only faintly understand. That moment when she seemed to be lifted by some spiritual transfiguration was the most beautiful moment of his life. She stood with parted, quivering lips, with hands tightly clasping the locket to her heaving breast. A new conscious pride of worth dignified the old wild, free grace and poise.
“Uncle Jim!” she said, tremulously, with a different smile from any Venters had ever seen on her face.
Lassiter took her into his arms.
“I reckon. It’s powerful fine to hear that,” replied Lassiter, unsteadily.
Venters, feeling his eyes grow hot and wet, turned away, and found himself looking at Jane Withersteen. He had almost forgotten her presence. Tenderness and sympathy were fast hiding traces of her agitation. Venters read her mind – felt the reaction of her noble heart – saw the joy she was beginning to feel at the happiness of others. And suddenly blinded, choked by his emotions, he turned from her also. He knew what she would do presently; she would make some magnificent amend for her anger; she would give some manifestation of her love; probably all in a moment, as she had loved Milly Erne, so would she love Elizabeth Erne.
“’Pears to me, folks, that we’d better talk a little serious now,” remarked Lassiter, at length. “Time flies.”
“You’re right,” replied Venters, instantly. “I’d forgotten time – place – danger. Lassiter, you’re riding away. Jane’s leaving Withersteen House?”
“Forever,” replied Jane.
“I fired Withersteen House,” said Lassiter.
“Dyer?” questioned Venters, sharply.
“I reckon where Dyer’s gone there won’t be any kidnappin’ of girls.”
“Ah! I knew it. I told Judkins – And Tull?” went on Venters, passionately.
“Tull wasn’t around when I broke loose. By now he’s likely on our trail with his riders.”
“Lassiter, you’re going into the Pass to hide till all this storm blows over?”
“I reckon that’s Jane’s idea. I’m thinkin’ the storm’ll be a powerful long time blowin’ over. I was comin’ to join you in Surprise Valley. You’ll go back now with me?”
“No. I want to take Bess out of Utah. Lassiter, Bess found gold in the valley. We’ve a saddle-bag full of gold. If we can reach Sterling—”
“Man! how’re you ever goin’ to do that? Sterlin’ is a hundred miles.”
“My plan is to ride on, keeping sharp lookout. Somewhere up the trail we’ll take to the sage and go round Cottonwoods and then hit the trail again.”
“It’s a bad plan. You’ll kill the burros in two days.”
“Then we’ll walk.”
“That’s more bad an’ worse. Better go back down the Pass with me.”
“Lassiter, this girl has been hidden all her life in that lonely place,” went on Venters. “Oldring’s men are hunting me. We’d not be safe there any longer. Even if we would be I’d take this chance to get her out. I want to marry her. She shall have some of the pleasures of life – see cities and people. We’ve gold – we’ll be rich. Why, life opens sweet for both of us. And, by Heaven! I’ll get her out or lose my life in the attempt!”
“I reckon if you go on with them burros you’ll lose your life all right. Tull will have riders all over this sage. You can’t get out on them burros. It’s a fool idea. That’s not doin’ best by the girl. Come with me an’ take chances on the rustlers.”
Lassiter’s cool argument made Venters waver, not in determination to go, but in hope of success.
“Bess, I want you to know. Lassiter says the trip’s almost useless now. I’m afraid he’s right. We’ve got about one chance in a hundred to go through. Shall we take it? Shall we go on?”
“We’ll go on,” replied Bess.
“That settles it, Lassiter.”
Lassiter spread wide his hands, as if to signify he could do no more, and his face clouded.
Venters felt a touch on his elbow. Jane stood beside him with a hand on his arm. She was smiling. Something radiated from her, and like an electric current accelerated the motion of his blood.
“Bern, you’d be right to die rather than not take Elizabeth out of Utah – out of this wild country. You must do it. You’ll show her the great world, with all its wonders. Think how little she has seen! Think what delight is in store for her! You have gold; you will be free; you will make her happy. What a glorious prospect! I share it with you. I’ll think of you – dream of you – pray for you.”
“Thank you, Jane,” replied Venters, trying to steady his voice. “It does look bright. Oh, if we were only across that wide, open waste of sage!”
“Bern, the trip’s as good as made. It’ll be safe – easy. It’ll be a glorious ride,” she said, softly.
Venters stared. Had Jane’s troubles made her insane? Lassiter, too, acted queerly, all at once beginning to turn his sombrero round in hands that actually shook.
“You are a rider. She is a rider. This will be the ride of your lives,” added Jane, in that same soft undertone, almost as if she were musing to herself.
“Jane!” he cried.
“I give you Black Star and Night!”
“Black Star and Night!” he echoed.
“It’s done. Lassiter, put our saddle-bags on the burros.”
Only when Lassiter moved swiftly to execute her bidding did Venters’s clogged brain grasp at literal meanings. He leaped to catch Lassiter’s busy hands.
“No, no! What are you doing?” he demanded, in a kind of fury. “I won’t take her racers. What do you think I am? It’d be monstrous. Lassiter! stop it, I say! … You’ve got her to save. You’ve miles and miles to go. Tull is trailing you. There are rustlers in the Pass. Give me back that saddle-bag!”