Publisher's Synopsis
Venters appeared too deeply moved to speak the gratitude his face expressed. And Jane turnedupon the rescuer and gripped his hands. Her smiles and tears seemingly dazed him. Presently assomething like calmness returned, she went to Lassiter's weary horse."I will water him myself," she said, and she led the horse to a trough under a huge oldcottonwood. With nimble fingers she loosened the bridle and removed the bit. The horse snortedand bent his head. The trough was of solid stone, hollowed out, moss-covered and green and wetand cool, and the clear brown water that fed it spouted and splashed from a wooden pipe."He has brought you far to-day?""Yes, ma'am, a matter of over sixty miles, mebbe seventy.""A long ride-a ride that-Ah, he is blind!""Yes, ma'am," replied Lassiter."What blinded him?""Some men once roped an' tied him, an' then held white-iron close to his eyes.""Oh! Men? You mean devils.... Were they your enemies-Mormons?""Yes, ma'am.""To take revenge on a horse! Lassiter, the men of my creed are unnaturally cruel. To myeverlasting sorrow I confess it. They have been driven, hated, scourged till their hearts havehardened. But we women hope and pray for the time when our men will soften.""Beggin' your pardon, ma'am-that time will never come.""Oh, it will!... Lassiter, do you think Mormon women wicked? Has your hand been against them, too?""No. I believe Mormon women are the best and noblest, the most long-sufferin', and the blindest, unhappiest women on earth.""Ah!" She gave him a grave, thoughtful look. "Then you will break bread with me?"Lassiter had no ready response, and he uneasily shifted his weight from one leg to another, andturned his sombrero round and round in his hands. "Ma'am," he began, presently, "I reckon yourkindness of heart makes you overlook things. Perhaps I ain't well known hereabouts, but back upNorth there's Mormons who'd rest uneasy in their graves at the idea of me sittin' to table with you.""I dare say. But-will you do it, anyway?" she aske
