Latter Day Saint women -- Fiction; Polygamy -- Fiction; Utah -- Fiction; Western stories; Women ranchers -- Fiction
“What of it? You talk strangely. Why roll that stone?”
“I planned to—fetch you here—to roll this stone. See! It’ll smash the
crags—loosen the walls—close the outlet!”
As Jane Withersteen gazed down that long incline, walled in by
crumbling cliffs, awaiting only the slightest jar to make them fall
asunder, she saw Tull appear at the bottom and begin to climb. A rider
followed him—another—and another.
“See! Tull! The riders!”
“Yes—they’ll get us—now.”
“Why? Haven’t you strength left to roll the stone?”
“Jane—it ain’t that—I’ve lost my nerve!”
“_You!_... Lassiter!”
“I wanted to roll it—meant to—but I—can’t. Venters’s valley is down
behind here. We could—live there. But if I roll the stone—we’re shut in
for always. I don’t dare. I’m thinkin’ of you!”
“Lassiter! Roll the stone!” she cried.
He arose, tottering, but with set face, and again he placed the bloody
hand on the Balancing Rock. Jane Withersteen gazed from him down the
passageway. Tull was climbing. Almost, she thought, she saw his dark,
relentless face. Behind him more riders climbed. What did they mean for
Fay—for Lassiter—for herself?
“_Roll the stone!... Lassiter, I love you!_”
Under all his deathly pallor, and the blood, and the iron of seared
cheek and lined brow, worked a great change. He placed both hands on
the rock and then leaned his shoulder there and braced his powerful
body.
“ROLL THE STONE!”
It stirred, it groaned, it grated, it moved, and with a slow grinding,
as of wrathful relief, began to lean. It had waited ages to fall, and
now was slow in starting. Then, as if suddenly instinct with life, it
leaped hurtlingly down to alight on the steep incline, to bound more
swiftly into the air, to gather momentum, to plunge into the lofty
leaning crag below. The crag thundered into atoms. A wave of air—a
splitting shock! Dust shrouded the sunset red of shaking rims; dust
shrouded Tull as he fell on his knees with uplifted arms. Shafts and
monuments and sections of wall fell majestically.
From the depths there rose a long-drawn rumbling roar. The outlet to
Deception Pass closed forever.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account