“What on earth is that?”
“I reckon there’s some one behind that ridge throwin’ up a sheet or a white blanket to reflect the sunshine.”
“Why?” queried Jane, more bewildered than ever.
“To stampede the herd,” replied Lassiter, and his teeth clicked.
“Ah!” She made a fierce, passionate movement, clutched the glass tightly, shook as with the passing of a spasm, and then dropped her head. Presently she raised it to greet Lassiter with something like a smile. “My righteous brethren are at work again,” she said, in scorn. She had stifled the leap of her wrath, but for perhaps the first time in her life a bitter derision curled her lips. Lassiter’s cool gray eyes seemed to pierce her. “I said I was prepared for anything; but that was hardly true. But why would they—anybody stampede my cattle?”
“That’s a Mormon’s godly way of bringin’ a woman to her knees.”
“Lassiter, I’ll die before I ever bend my knees. I might be led: I won’t be driven. Do you expect the herd to bolt?”
“I don’t like the looks of them big steers. But you can never tell. Cattle sometimes stampede as easily as buffalo. Any little flash or move will start them. A rider gettin’ down an’ walkin’ toward them sometimes will make them jump an’ fly. Then again nothin’ seems to scare them. But I reckon that white flare will do the biz. It’s a new one on me, an’ I’ve seen some ridin’ an’ rustlin’. It jest takes one of them God-fearin’ Mormons to think of devilish tricks.”
“Lassiter, might not this trick be done by Oldring’s men?” asked Jane, ever grasping at straws.