She resented Elder Tull's cold, impassive manner that looked down upon
her as one who had incurred his just displeasure. Otherwise he would
have been the same calm, dark-browed, impenetrable man she had known
for ten years. In fact, except when he had revealed his passion in the
matter of the seizing of Venters, she had never dreamed he could be
other than the grave, reproving preacher. He stood out now a strange,
secretive man. She would have thought better of him if he had picked
up the threads of their quarrel where they had parted. Was Tull what
he appeared to be? The question flung itself in-voluntarily over Jane
Withersteen's inhibitive habit of faith without question. And she
refused to answer it. Tull could not fight in the open Venters had said,
Lassiter had said, that her Elder shirked fight and worked in the dark.
Just now in this meeting Tull had ignored the fact that he had sued,
exhorted, demanded that she marry him. He made no mention of Venters.
His manner was that of the minister who had been outraged, but
who overlooked the frailties of a woman. Beyond question he seemed
unutterably aloof from all knowledge of pressure being brought to bear
upon her, absolutely guiltless of any connection with secret power over
riders, with night journeys, with rustlers and stampedes of cattle. And
that convinced her again of unjust suspicions. But it was convincement
through an obstinate faith. She shuddered as she accepted it, and that
shudder was the nucleus of a terrible revolt.

Jane turned into one of the wide lanes leading from the main street and
entered a huge, shady yard. Here were sweet-smelling clover, alfalfa,
flowers, and vegetables, all growing in happy confusion. And like these
fresh green things were the dozens of babies, tots, toddlers, noisy
urchins, laughing girls, a whole multitude of children of one family.
For Collier Brandt, the father of all this numerous progeny, was a
Mormon with four wives.

The big house where they lived was old, solid, picturesque the lower
part built of logs, the upper of rough clapboards, with vines growing
up the outside stone chimneys. There were many wooden-shuttered windows,
and one pretentious window of glass proudly curtained in white. As this
house had four mistresses, it likewise had four separate sections, not
one of which communicated with another, and all had to be entered from
the outside.

In the shade of a wide, low, vine-roofed porch Jane found Brandt's