Deserts -- Fiction; Latter Day Saints -- Fiction; Utah -- Fiction; Western stories
“She's in a secret cave, a Mormon hiding-place for women. Only a few men
know of its existence. Rest easy, for she's absolutely safe.”
“Thank God!... then that's settled.” Hare drew a long, deep breath.
“Mescal told us what happened, how she got caught at the sand-strip and
escaped from Holderness at Silver Cup. Was Dene hurt?”
“Silvermane killed him.”
“Good God! How things come about! I saw you run Dene down that time here
in White Sage. It must have been written. Did Holderness shoot Snap
Naab?”
“Yes.”
“What of old Naab? Won't he come down here now to lead us Mormons
against the rustlers?”
“He called the Navajos across the river. He meant to take the trail
alone and kill Holderness, keeping the Indians back a few days. If he
failed to return then they were to ride out on the rustlers. But his
plan must be changed, for I came ahead of him.”
“For what? Mescal?”
“No. For Holderness.”
“You'll kill him!”
“Yes.”
“He'll be coming soon?--When?”
“To-morrow, possibly by daylight. He wants Mescal. There's a chance Naab
may have reached Silver Cup before Holderness left, but I doubt it.”
“May I know your plan?” The Mormon hesitated while his strong brown face
flashed with daring inspiration. “I--I've a good reason.”
“Plan?-- Yes. Hide Bolly and Silvermane in the little arbor down in the
orchard. I'll stay outside to-night, sleep a little--for I'm dead tired-
-and watch in the morning. Holderness will come here with his men,
perhaps not openly at first, to drag Mescal away. He'll mean to use
strategy. I'll meet him when he comes--that's all.”
“It's well. I ask you not to mention this to my father. Come in, now.
You need food and rest. Later I'll hide Bolly and Silvermane in the
arbor.”
Hare met the Bishop and his family with composure, but his arrival
following so closely upon Mescal's, increased their alarm. They seemed
repelled yet fascinated by his face. Hare ate in silence. John Caldwell
did not come in to supper; his brothers mysteriously left the table
before finishing the meal. A subdued murmur of voices floated in at the
open window.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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