Riders of the Purple Sage

By Zane Grey and Christopher Angus

Riders of the Purple Sage is an acknowledged western classic. Although it is a book of some complexity, it encompasses the themes that have since been witnessed on a thousand movie screens: the strong, silent and incorruptable cowboy, the fallen woman with the heart of gold, the greedy land baron.

Grey was deeply concerned with the loss of wilderness, and the stirring tale of the love of the fast-drawing Lassiter for the gentle Jane Withersteen is set against the majesty of untamed Utah.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wordsworth Editions
• Release date: Oct 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781848705890

Zane Grey

Zane Grey (1872–1939) was an American writer best known for western literature. Born and raised in Ohio, Grey was one of five children from an English Quaker family. As a youth, he developed an interest in sports, history and eventually writing. He attended University of Pennsylvania where he studied dentistry, while balancing his creative endeavors. One of his first published pieces was the article “A Day on the Delaware" (1902), followed by the novels Betty Zane (1903) and The Spirit of the Border (1906). His career spanned several decades and was often inspired by real-life settings and events.

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Contents

1. Lassiter

2. Cottonwoods

3. Amber Spring

4. Deception Pass

5. The Masked Rider

6. The Mill-Wheel of Steers

7. The Daughter of Withersteen

8. Surprise Valley

9. Silver Spruce and Aspens

10. Love

11. Faith and Unfaith

12. The Invisible Hand

13. Solitude and Storm

14. West Wind

15. Shadows on the Sage-Slope

16. Gold

17. Wrangle’s Race Run

18. Oldring’s Knell

19. Fay

20. Lassiter’s Way

21. Black Star and Night

22. Riders of the Purple Sage

23. The Fall of Balancing Rock

Introduction

Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey (1872–1939) was the author’s second popular success following The Heritage of the Desert. It was successful from the outset, both in sales and reviews, when it appeared in 1912 and has since become an acknowledged western classic.

Through his prodigious output of some 85 books, Grey chronicled an entire era of American history. His descriptions of the West were historically accurate, and his love of the majestic desert and canyon lands was nourished by his many years of travel across the region, often in the company of colourful western characters like Buffalo Jones and Jim Emmett.

During earlier careers as a professional baseball player and later as a dentist in New York City, Grey always maintained his skills as an avid outdoorsman and fisherman. Before long, the financial independence he attained by wielding a pen allowed him to pursue his true loves, writing, fishing and the exploration of the American West for most of his adult life.

Riders of the Purple Sage is a book of some complexity. There are various interlocking plotlines and themes. But perhaps the most fascinating thing about reading this book more than eighty years after it was written is how the images Grey presented have all been indelibly set in our minds from viewing western movies. The themes we’ve witnessed on a thousand movie screens were drafted while the motion picture industry was still in its infancy: the strong, silent and incorruptible cowboy, the fallen woman with the heart of gold, the greedy land baron. They are all here, all familiar to us. Reading Zane Grey is like reading about family, like reading our own personal history, so steeped have we all become in the author’s subject.

Over everything hangs the vast spectre of the wild, untamed western landscape. In his best descriptive passages, Grey exhibits his strong sense of place. His passion for the wild lands of the West is intense. He can spend six pages detailing the approach of a storm across the mountains of Utah: ‘The clouds spread over the valley, rolling swiftly and low, and twilight faded into a sweeping darkness. Then the singing of the wind in the caves drowned the swift roar of rustling leaves . . . The last bit of blue sky yielded to the onsweep of clouds. Like angry surf the pale gleams of grey, amid the purple of that scudding front, swept beyond the eastern rampart of the valley.’

This is the art of silent watching, which Grey learned, in large measure, from men like Jones and Emmett. ‘Of all the gifts that have come to me from contact with the West,’ he wrote, ‘this one of sheer love of wilderness beauty, colour, grandeur, has been the greatest, the most significant for my work.’ Through this intimacy with the landscape, we learn that nothing in nature is static; that things are not always as they seem. This reality infuses Grey’s work. Bishop Dyer, who presents to the world a face of benevolence and morality, is in fact an evil man. And Oldring, considered a vicious outlaw by society, has enough good in him to have inspired the love of Bess.

Like Grey, many writers have found their wellsprings in this soil. Wallace Stegner, who spent part of his childhood in the mountains of Utah, wrote:

Something will have gone out of us as a people if we ever let the remaining wilderness be destroyed . . . We need wilderness preserved – as much of it as is still left, and as many kinds – because it was the challenge against which our character as a people was formed.

Yet Grey is also capable of overwhelming the reader with occasional bursts of the flowery romanticism that was much in vogue at the time: ‘With little tremblings of all her slender body she rocked to and fro on her knees. The yearning wistfulness of her eyes changed to solemn splendour of joy,’ and, ‘You are a woman, fine an’ big an’ strong, an’ your heart matches your size. But in mind you’re a child’.

Today’s women may find much of this hard to take. Yet it is important to note that one of Grey’s recurring themes was of the strong-willed frontier woman, courageous, determined and morally superior to men in most instances. Indeed, part of what Grey was getting at was the contrast between the male and female roles in the opening of the West. Both were needed, the gentle firmness of Jane Withersteen side by side with the fast-drawing violence of a Lassiter. Viewed in historical perspective, Grey can be counted as one writer who was unafraid to portray women as free-spirited and powerful. In this, he was often willing to depart from the gender stereotypes of the period.

If Grey sometimes overdid his traditional portrayals of the fast-shooting, invincible Lassiter and the vulnerable, yet strong-willed Jane Withersteen, these descriptions nevertheless paled before his near mythic representations of animals. Venters’s superdogs, Ring and Whitie, were always on guard, always capable of being sent off on specific errands like any other cowhands to round up the horses or bring in game for food. The horses, Black Star, Night, and Wrangle performed almost supernatural feats of travel, covering scores of miles across desert at impossible speeds, leaping chasms, one even performing such deeds while completely blind.

In one of the great chases in western literature, Venters pursues the outlaw, Jerry Card, across vast stretches of desert. Card has stolen Jane’s two mighty horses, Black Star and Night, and he shifts himself from one to the other under full gallop as he attempts to outdistance Venter’s invincible Wrangle. But to no avail. ‘The great sorrel thundered on – and on – and on. In every yard he gained a foot. He was whistling through his nostrils, wringing wet, flying lather, and as hot as fire.’ The end of the contest is never really in doubt.

By choosing to go along for this literary ride across Utah’s vast plateaus of purple sage, the reader will reap his own rewards, perhaps even learning to love the west almost as much as Zane Grey once did long ago.

Christopher Angus

Further Reading

Cynthia S. Hamilton, Western and Hard-Boiled Fiction in America: From High Noon to Midnight, MacMillan, London, 1987

Carlton Jackson (Ed.), Zane Grey, Twayne Publishers, Boston, 1989.

Arthur G. Kimball, Ace of Hearts: The Westerns of Zane Grey, Texas Christian University Press, Fort Worth, 1993

John Milton, The Novel of the American West, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1980

Lawrence Clark Powell, Southwest Classics: The Creative Literature of the Arid Land, Ward Ritchie Press, Los Angeles, 1974

Riders of the Purple Sage

Chapter 1

Lassiter

A sharp clip-clop of iron-shod hoofs deadened and died away, and clouds of yellow dust drifted from under the cottonwoods out over the sage.

Jane Withersteen gazed down the wide purple slope with dreamy and troubled eyes. A rider had just left her and it was his message that held her thoughtful and almost sad, awaiting the churchmen who were coming to resent and attack her right to befriend a Gentile.

She wondered if the unrest and strife that had lately come to the little village of Cottonwoods was to involve her. And then she sighed, remembering that her father had founded this remotest border settlement of southern Utah and that he had left it to her. She owned all the ground and many of the cottages. Withersteen House was hers, and the great ranch, with its thousands of cattle, and the swiftest horses of the sage. To her belonged Amber Spring, the water which gave verdure and beauty to the village and made living possible on that wild purple upland waste. She could not escape being involved by whatever befell Cottonwoods.

That year, 1871, had marked a change which had been gradually coming in the lives of the peace-loving Mormons of the border. Glaze – Stone Bridge – Sterling, villages to the north, had risen against the invasion of Gentile settlers and the forays of rustlers. There had been opposition to the one and fighting with the other. And now Cottonwoods had begun to wake and bestir itself and grow hard.

Jane prayed that the tranquillity and sweetness of her life would not be permanently disrupted. She meant to do so much more for her people than she had done. She wanted the sleepy quiet pastoral days to last always. Trouble between the Mormons and the Gentiles of the community would make her unhappy. She was Mormon-born, and she was a friend to poor and unfortunate Gentiles. She wished only to go on doing good and being happy. And she thought of what that great ranch meant to her. She loved it all – the grove of cottonwoods, the old stone house, the amber-tinted water, and the droves of shaggy, dusty horses and mustangs, the sleek, clean-limbed, blooded racers, and the browsing herds of cattle and the lean, sun-browned riders of the sage.

While she waited there she forgot the prospect of untoward change. The bray of a lazy burro broke the afternoon quiet, and it was comfortingly suggestive of the drowsy farmyard, and the open corrals, and the green alfalfa fields. Her clear sight intensified the purple sage-slope as it rolled before her. Low swells of prairie-like ground sloped up to the west. Dark, lonely cedar trees, few and far between, stood out strikingly, and at long distances ruins of red rocks. Farther on, up the gradual slope, rose a broken wall, a huge monument, looming dark purple and stretching its solitary, mystic way, a wavering line that faded in the north. Here to the westward was the light and colour and beauty. Northward the slope descended to a dim line of canyons from which rose an up-flinging of the earth, not mountainous, but a vast heave of purple uplands, with ribbed and fan-shaped walls, castle-crowned cliffs, and grey escarpments. Over it all crept the lengthening, waning afternoon shadows.

The rapid beat of hoofs recalled Jane Withersteen to the question at hand. A group of riders cantered up the lane, dismounted, and threw their bridles. They were seven in number, and Tull, the leader, a tall, dark man, was an elder of Jane’s church.

‘Did you get my message?’ he asked, curtly.

‘Yes,’ replied Jane.

‘I sent word I’d give that rider Venters half an hour to come down to the village. He didn’t come.’

‘He knows nothing of it,’ said Jane. ‘I didn’t tell him. I’ve been waiting here for you.’

‘Where is Venters?’

‘I left him in the courtyard.’

‘Here, Jerry,’ called Tull, turning to his men, ‘take the gang and fetch Venters out here if you have to rope him.’

The dusty-booted and long-spurred riders clanked noisily into the grove of cottonwoods and disappeared in the shade.

‘Elder Tull, what do you mean by this?’ demanded Jane. ‘If you must arrest Venters you might have the courtesy to wait till he leaves my home. And if you do arrest him it will be adding insult to injury. It’s absurd to accuse Venters of being mixed up in that shooting fray in the village last night. He was with me at the time. Besides, he let me take charge of his guns. You’re only using this as a pretext. What do you mean to do to Venters?’

‘I’ll tell you presently,’ replied Tull. ‘But first tell me why you defend this worthless rider?’

‘Worthless!’ exclaimed Jane, indignantly. ‘He’s nothing of the kind. He was the best rider I ever had. There’s not a reason why I shouldn’t champion him and every reason why I should. It’s no little shame to me, Elder Tull, that through my friendship he has roused the enmity of my people and become an outcast. Besides, I owe him eternal gratitude for saving the life of little Fay.’

‘I’ve heard of your love for Fay Larkin and that you intend to adopt her. But – Jane Withersteen, the child is a Gentile!’

‘Yes. But, Elder, I don’t love the Mormon children any less because I love a Gentile child. I shall adopt Fay if her mother will give her to me.’

‘I’m not so much against that. You can give the child Mormon teaching,’ said Tull. ‘But I’m sick of seeing this fellow Venters hang around you. I’m going to put a stop to it. You’ve so much love to throw away on these beggars of Gentiles that I’ve an idea you might love Venters.’

Tull spoke with the arrogance of a Mormon whose power could not be brooked and with the passion of a man in whom jealousy had kindled a consuming fire.

‘Maybe I do love him,’ said Jane. She felt both fear and anger stir her heart. ‘I’d never thought of that. Poor fellow! he certainly needs someone to love him.’

‘This’ll be a bad day for Venters unless you deny that,’ returned Tull, grimly.

Tull’s men appeared under the cottonwoods and led a young man out into the lane. His ragged clothes were those of an outcast. But he stood tall and straight, his wide shoulders flung back, with the muscles of his bound arms rippling and a blue flame of defiance in the gaze he bent on Tull.

For the first time Jane Withersteen felt Venters’s real spirit. She wondered if she would love this splendid youth. Then her emotion cooled to the sobering sense of the issue at stake.

‘Venters, will you leave Cottonwoods at once and forever?’ asked Tull, tensely.

‘Why?’ rejoined the rider.

‘Because I order it.’

Venters laughed in cool disdain.

The red leaped to Tull’s dark cheek.

‘If you don’t go it means your ruin,’ he said, sharply.

‘Ruin!’ exclaimed Venters, passionately. ‘Haven’t you already ruined me? What do you call ruin? A year ago I was a rider. I had horses and cattle of my own. I had a good name in Cottonwoods. And now when I come into the village to see this woman you set your men on me. You hound me. You trail me as if I were a rustler. I’ve no more to lose – except my life.’

‘Will you leave Utah?’

‘Oh! I know,’ went on Venters, tauntingly, ‘it galls you, the idea of beautiful Jane Withersteen being friendly to a poor Gentile. You want her all yourself. You’re a wiving Mormon. You have use for her – and Withersteen House and Amber Spring and seven thousand head of cattle!’

Tull’s hard jaw protruded, and rioting blood corded the veins of his neck.

‘Once more. Will you go?’

‘No!’

‘Then I’ll have you whipped within an inch of your life,’ replied Tull, harshly. ‘I’ll turn you out in the sage. And if you ever come back you’ll get worse.’

Venters’s agitated face grew coldly set and the bronze changed to grey.

Jane impulsively stepped forward. ‘Oh! Elder Tull!’ she cried. ‘You won’t do that!’

Tull lifted a shaking finger towards her.

‘That’ll do from you. Understand, you’ll not be allowed to hold this boy to a friendship that’s offensive to your Bishop. Jane Withersteen, your father left you wealth and power. It has turned your head. You haven’t yet come to see the place of Mormon women. We’ve reasoned with you, borne with you. We’ve patiently waited. We’ve let you have your fling, which is more than I ever saw granted to a Mormon woman. But you haven’t come to your senses. Now, once for all, you can’t have any further friendship with Venters. He’s going to be whipped, and he’s got to leave Utah!’

‘Oh! Don’t whip him! It would be dastardly!’ implored Jane, with slow certainty of her failing courage.

Tull always blunted her spirit, and she grew conscious that she had feigned a boldness which she did not possess. He loomed up now in different guise, not as a jealous suitor, but embodying the mysterious despotism she had known from childhood – the power of her creed.

‘Venters, will you take your whipping here or would you rather go out in the sage?’ asked Tull. He smiled a flinty smile that was more than inhuman, yet seemed to give out of its dark aloofness a gleam of righteousness.

‘I’ll take it here – if I must,’ said Venters. ‘But by God! – Tull, you’d better kill me outright. That’ll be a dear whipping for you and your praying Mormons. You’ll make me another Lassiter!’

The strange glow, the austere light which radiated from Tull’s face, might have been a holy joy at the spiritual conception of exalted duty. But there was something more in him, barely hidden, a something personal and sinister, a deep of himself, an engulfing abyss. As his religious mood was fanatical and inexorable, so would his physical hate be merciless.

‘Elder, I – I repent my words,’ Jane faltered. The religion in her, the long habit of obedience, of humility, as well as agony of fear, spoke in her voice. ‘Spare the boy!’ she whispered.

‘You can’t save him now,’ replied Tull, stridently.

Her head was bowing to the inevitable. She was grasping the truth, when suddenly there came, in inward constriction, a hardening of gentle forces within her breast. Like a steel bar it was, stiffening all that had been soft and weak in her. She felt a birth in her of something new and unintelligible. Once more her strained gaze sought the sage-slopes. Jane Withersteen loved that wild and purple wilderness. In times of sorrow it had been her strength, in happiness its beauty was her continual delight. In her extremity she found herself murmuring ‘Whence cometh my help!’ It was a prayer, as if forth from those lonely purple reaches and walls of red and clefts of blue might ride a fearless man, neither creed-bound nor creed-mad, who would hold up a restraining hand in the faces of her ruthless people.

The restless movements of Tull’s men suddenly quieted down. Then followed a low whisper, a rustle, a sharp exclamation.

‘Look!’ said one, pointing to the west.

‘A rider!’

Jane Withersteen wheeled and saw a horseman, silhouetted against the western sky, coming riding out of the sage. He had ridden down from the left, in the golden glare of the sun, and had been unobserved till close at hand. An answer to her prayer!

‘Do you know him? Does anyone know him?’ questioned Tull, hurriedly.

His men looked and looked, and one by one shook their heads.

‘He’s come from far,’ said one.

‘Thet’s a fine hoss,’ said another.

‘A strange rider.’

‘Huh! he wears black leather,’ added a fourth.

With a waving of his hand, enjoining silence, Tull stepped forward in such a way that he concealed Venters.

The rider reined in his mount, and with a lithe forward-slipping action appeared to reach the ground in one long step. It was a peculiar movement in its quickness and inasmuch that while performing it the rider did not swerve in the slightest from a square front to the group before him.

‘Look!’ hoarsely whispered one of Tull’s companions. ‘He packs two black-butted guns – low down – they’re hard to see – black agin them black chaps.’

‘A gunman!’ whispered another. ‘Fellers, careful now about movin’ your hands.’

The stranger’s slow approach might have been a mere leisurely manner of gait or the cramped short steps of a rider unused to walking; yet, as well, it could have been the guarded advance of one who took no chances with men.

‘Hello, stranger!’ called Tull. No welcome was in this greeting, only a gruff curiosity.

The rider responded with a curt nod. The wide brim of a black sombrero cast a dark shade over his face. For a moment he closely regarded Tull and his comrades, and then, halting in his slow walk, he seemed to relax.

‘Evenin’, ma’am,’ he said to Jane, and removed his sombrero with quaint grace.

Jane, greeting him, looked up into a face that she trusted instinctively and which riveted her attention. It had all the characteristics of the range rider’s – the leanness, the red burn of the sun, and the set changelessness that came from years of silence and solitude. But it was not these which held her; rather the intensity of his gaze, a strained weariness, a piercing wistfulness of keen, grey sight, as if the man was forever looking for that which he never found. Jane’s subtle woman’s intuition, even in that brief instant, felt a sadness, a hungering, a secret.

‘Jane Withersteen, ma’am?’ he enquired.

‘Yes,’ she replied.

‘The water here is yours?’

‘Yes.’

‘May I water my horse?’

‘Certainly. There’s the trough.’

‘But mebbe if you knew who I was – ’ He hesitated, with his glance on the listening men. ‘Mebbe you wouldn’t let me water him – though I ain’t askin’ none for myself.’

‘Stranger, it doesn’t matter who you are. Water your horse. And if you are thirsty and hungry come into my house.’

‘Thanks, ma’am. I can’t accept for myself – but for my tired horse – ’

Trampling of hoofs interrupted the rider. More restless movements on the part of Tull’s men broke up the little circle, exposing the prisoner Venters.

‘Mebbe I’ve kind of hindered somethin’ – for a few moments, perhaps?’ enquired the rider.

‘Yes,’ replied Jane Withersteen, with a throb in her voice.

She felt the drawing power of his eyes; and then she saw him look at the bound Venters, and at the men who held him, and their leader.

‘In this here country all the rustlers an’ thieves an’ cutthroats an’ gun-throwers an’ all-round no-good men jest happen to be Gentiles. Ma’am, which of the no-good class does that young feller belong to?’

‘He belongs to none of them. He’s an honest boy.’

‘You know that, ma’am?’

‘Yes – yes.’

‘Then what has he done to get tied up that way?’

His clear and distinct question, meant for Tull as well as for Jane Withersteen, stilled the restlessness and brought a momentary silence.

‘Ask him,’ replied Jane, her voice rising high.

The rider stepped away from her, moving out with the same slow, measured stride in which he had approached; and the fact that his action placed her wholly to one side, and him no nearer to Tull and his men, had a penetrating significance.

‘Young feller, speak up,’ he said to Venters.

‘Here, stranger, this’s none of your mix,’ began Tull. ‘Don’t try any interference. You’ve been asked to drink and eat. That’s more than you’d have got in any other village on the Utah border. Water your horse and be on your way.’

‘Easy – easy – I ain’t interferin’ yet,’ replied the rider. The tone of his voice had undergone a change. A different man had spoken. Where, in addressing Jane, he had been mild and gentle, now, with his first speech to Tull, he was dry, cool, biting. ‘I’ve jest stumbled on to a queer deal. Seven Mormons all packin’ guns, an’ a Gentile tied with a rope, an’ a woman who swears by his honesty! Queer, ain’t that?’

‘Queer or not, it’s none of your business,’ retorted Tull.

‘Where I was raised a woman’s word was law. I ain’t quite outgrowed that yet.’

Tull fumed between amaze and anger.

‘Meddler, we have a law here something different from woman’s whim – Mormon law! . . . Take care you don’t transgress it.’

‘To hell with your Mormon law!’

The deliberate speech marked the rider’s further change, this time from kindly interest to an awakening menace. It produced a transformation in Tull and his companions. The leader gasped and staggered backwards at a blasphemous affront to an institution he held most sacred. The man Jerry, holding the horses, dropped the bridles and froze in his tracks. Like posts the other men stood, watchful-eyed, arms hanging rigid, all waiting.

‘Speak up now, young man. What have you done to be roped that way?’

‘It’s a damned outrage!’ burst out Venters. ‘I’ve done no wrong. I’ve offended this Mormon Elder by being a friend to that woman.’

‘Ma’am, is it true – what he says?’ asked the rider of Jane; but his quiveringly alert eyes never left the little knot of quiet men.

‘True? Yes, perfectly true,’ she answered.

‘Well, young man, it seems to me that bein’ a friend to such a woman would be what you wouldn’t want to help an’ couldn’t help . . . What’s to be done to you for it?’

‘They intend to whip me. You know what that means – in Utah!’

‘I reckon,’ replied the rider, slowly.

With his grey glance cold on the Mormons, with the restive bit-champing of the horses, with Jane failing to repress her mounting agitation, with Venters standing pale and still, the tension of the moment tightened. Tull broke the spell with a laugh, a laugh without mirth, a laugh that was only a sound betraying fear.

‘Come on, men!’ he called.

Jane Withersteen turned again to the rider.

‘Stranger, can you do nothing to save Venters?’

‘Ma’am, you ask me to save him – from your own people?’

‘Ask you? I beg of you!’

‘But you don’t dream who you’re askin’.’

‘Oh, sir, I pray you – save him!’

‘These are Mormons, an’ I . . . ’

‘At – at any cost – save him. For I – I care for him!’

Tull snarled. ‘You love-sick fool! Tell your secrets. There’ll be a way to teach you what you’ve never learned . . . Come men, out of here!’

‘Mormon, the young man stays,’ said the rider.

Like a shot his voice halted Tull.

‘What!’

‘He stays.’

‘Who’ll keep him? He’s my prisoner!’ cried Tull, hotly. ‘Stranger, again I tell you – don’t mix here. You’ve meddled enough. Go your way now or – ’

‘Listen! . . . He stays.’

Absolute certainty, beyond any shadow of doubt, breathed in the rider’s low voice.

‘Who are you? We are seven here.’

The rider dropped his sombrero and made a rapid movement, singular in that it left him somewhat crouched, arms bent and stiff, with the big black gun-sheaths swung round to the fore.

‘Lassiter!’

It was Venters’s wondering, thrilling cry that bridged the fateful connection between the rider’s singular position and the dreaded name.

Tull put out a groping hand. The life of his eyes dulled to the gloom with which men of his fear saw the approach of death. But death, while it hovered over him, did not descend for the rider waited for the twitching fingers, the downward flash of hand that did not come. Tull, gathering himself together, turned to the horses, attended by his pale comrades.

Chapter 2

Cottonwoods

Venters appeared too deeply moved to speak the gratitude his face expressed. And Jane turned upon the rescuer and gripped his hands. Her smiles and tears seemingly dazed him. Presently, as something 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 old cottonwood. With nimble fingers she loosened the bridle and removed the bit. The horse snorted and bent his head. The trough was of solid stone, hollowed out, moss-covered and green and wet and cool, and the clear brown water that fed it spouted and splashed from a wooden pipe.

‘He has brought you far today?’

‘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 my everlasting sorrow I confess it. They have been driven, hated, scourged till their hearts have hardened. 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, and turned his sombrero round and round in his hands. ‘Ma’am,’ he began, presently, ‘I reckon your kindness of heart makes you overlook things. Perhaps I ain’t well known hereabouts, but back up North there’s Mormons who’d rest oneasy in their graves at the idea of me sittin’ to table with you.’

‘I dare say. But – will you do it, anyway?’ she asked.

‘Mebbe you have a brother or relative who might drop in an’ be offended, an’ I wouldn’t want to – ’

‘I’ve not a relative in Utah that I know of. There’s no one with a right to question my actions.’ She turned smilingly to Venters. ‘You will come in, Bern, and Lassiter will come in. We’ll eat and be merry while we may.’

‘I’m only wonderin’ if Tull an’ his men’ll raise a storm down in the village,’ said Lassiter, in his last weakening stand.

‘Yes, he’ll raise the storm – after he has prayed,’ replied Jane. ‘Come.’

She led the way, with the bridle of Lassiter’s horse over her arm. They entered a grove and walked down a wide path shaded by great low-branching cottonwoods. The last rays of the setting sun sent golden bars through the leaves. The grass was deep and rich, welcome contrast to sage-tired eyes. Twittering quail darted across the path, and from a tree-top somewhere a robin sang its evening song, and on the still air floated the freshness and murmur of flowing water.

The home of Jane Withersteen stood in a circle of cottonwoods, and was a flat, long, red-stone structure with a covered court in the centre through which flowed a lively stream of amber-coloured water. In the massive blocks of stone and heavy timbers and solid doors and shutters showed the hand of a man who had builded against pillage and time; and in the flowers and mosses lining the stone-bedded stream, in the bright colours of rugs and blankets on the court floor, and the cosy corner with hammock and books, and the clean-linened table, showed the grace of a daughter who lived for happiness and the day at hand.

Jane turned Lassiter’s horse loose in the thick grass. ‘You will want him to be near you,’ she said, ‘or I’d have him taken to the alfalfa fields.’ At her call appeared women who began at once to bustle about, hurrying to and fro, setting the table. Then Jane, excusing herself, went within.

She passed through a huge low-ceiled chamber, like the inside of a fort, and into a smaller one where a bright wood-fire blazed in an old open fireplace, and from this into her own room. It had the same comfort as was manifested in the homelike outer court; moreover, it was warm and rich in soft hues.

Seldom did Jane Withersteen enter her room without looking into her mirror. She knew she loved the reflection of that beauty which since early childhood she had never been allowed to forget. Her relatives and friends, and later a horde of Mormon and Gentile suitors, had fanned the flame of natural vanity in her. So that at twenty-eight she scarcely thought at all of her wonderful influence for good in the little community where her father had left her practically its beneficent landlord; but cared most

Reviews for Riders of the Purple Sage

[bookconcierge · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Digital audiobook read by John Bolen.From the book jacket: Cottonwoods, Utah, 1871. A woman stands accused. A man, sentenced to whipping. In … rides … Lassiter, a notorious gunman who’s come to avenge his sister’s death. It deoesn’t take Lassiter long to see that this once-peaceful Mormon community is controlled by the corrupt Deacon Tull – a powerful elder who’s trying to take the woman’s land by forcing her to marry him, branding her foreman a dangerous “outsider.” Lassiter vows to help them. But when the ranch is attacked by horse thieves, cattle rustlers, and a mysterious Masked Rider, he realizes they’re up against something bigger, and more brutal, than the land itself…My reactionsI hardly know what to write about this classic of the Western genre. It’s full of adventure, violence, strong men and women, tenderness, brutality and an abiding sense of justice. And, of course, there is the landscape, which Grey paints so vividly it is practically a character. Yes, the storyline and dialogue are a bit melodramatic. But Grey’s story still captured this reader’s imagination with its sense of drama, almost non-stop action, and bold characters. I was reminded of the many western movies I watched with my Daddy in the ‘50s and ‘60s. They were exciting and the good guys always won. Clearly those movies (and other books of the genre) had Grey’s strong foundation on which to build. I’m glad I finally read it.The digital audio available through my library’s Overdrive system was read by John Bolen. I was not a great fan of his delivery, which seemed overly dramatic to me. I might have enjoyed this better had I read the text.

[jpsnow · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Can I call it a "pop classic?" Given its popularity, its place in the Western romance and adventure categories, and its place in the archives of the early 20th century, I will.

[crestbaptistchurch · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Another great book! This is in Utah. He gives the most detailed descriptions of the terrain there. Lots of cowboys and horses in this one. I loved it!

[moonimal · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

For all its fame as a western novel, this is really a love story (two, actually) that never quite makes it to being a tragedy.A soap opera in which everyone turns out to be something more than they appear at first, this was a bit of a surprise at first, but I was rooting for the good guys the whole way through. Disturbing bit of writing - two of the main 'western confrontation' scenes, in which the good guys ride to town to confront the bad guys, are told by secondary characters after the fact. Disappointing use of the narrative, to say the least.

[cbl_tn · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Although I'm not a fan of Westerns, Riders of the Purple Sage is a classic in the genre and I've wanted to read it for some time. A Zane Grey group read gave me the motivation I needed. I listened to the audio version read by Mark Bramhall and I'm almost certain that I enjoyed listening to Bramhall's narration more than I would have enjoyed reading the book. His voice for each character was just right, even for the women. A lot of the dialogue was dated, but somehow Bramhall managed to keep it from sounding corny.I wasn't as bothered as some were with the negative portrayal of Mormons. The book is set in Utah Territory in 1871, at a time when there was a great deal of mistrust between the Mormons and the non-Mormons who lived there. Brigham Young was still living and the church had not yet rejected polygamy.The thing that eventually got to me was Jane Withersteen's gun phobia. It seemed to be more than pacifism. She had a horror for guns, and she did everything she could to get the gunman Lassiter to give up his guns. Jane Withersteen was the owner of a large ranch with lots of livestock. Guns would be necessary for protecting the livestock from predators or for quickly putting fatally injured animals out of their misery. Jane needed to know how to use guns, and her employees needed access to guns. Her attitude toward guns made no sense for her position or life in that place and time.Westerns will never be a favorite genre for me. However, at some point I would like to try Grey's Frontier trilogy, starting with Betty Zane, since it's based on Grey's family history.

[dbsovereign · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Vaguely pornographic in its blatant sensuality. A classic pulp Western that pits a religious Mormon woman against a hardened brute of animal magnetism. A ranger falls in love with the apparent ex- of a bad guy - a thunder storm makes him realize he has "a storm of real love" in his own "breast." "...I reckon you'd better call quick on thet God who reveals himself to you on earth, because He won't be visitin' the place you're goin to!"

[scott_hercher · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Stilted syntax, stereotypical characters, repetitive landscape descriptions.

[bkinetic_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

In several instances the characters act in an overly theatrical fashion that made me think of the exaggerated affect of characters in silent movies. Relatedly, there are also some plot devices that are cloying, going overboard playing on the reader's sympathies. There are a few undeveloped characters that are bumped off like the expendable crew on Star Trek. Who were they? Some of the scenes went on long after they had served their purpose.In spite of all these problems there was a strong plot line that maintained my interest. In addition, the main character's struggle to break free from the dysfunctional obedience of a stern religious upbringing was interesting. I also liked the description of the Utah landscape.

[jbarr5 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane GreyRecall a band by this name and love their music. This book starts out with a few men who tend to Jane Withersteen's horses that she's raising and selling after training them.In Utal the Mormoms rule the land and they want her land and round up men to steal her horses. Before she knows it a little come Fay comes to stay with her because the woman taking care of her has died.There are many trouble and upheavals during this book involving many different sets of people. Liked the scenery because it is so descriptive from the daybreak to the full sun and at dusk-the purple sage is always being described.Love how they band together and make a run for it. Learned so much about this area-even gold! Great Book.

[justagirlwithabook · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This was my first experience with a classic western by Zane Grey ... and my last if I have anything to say about it. I'm just not into westerns. I don't have much else to say other than it's not my thing - I don't like the environment, the 'cowboy' perspective, etc. etc. I tried.

[m.belljackson · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Though a reader's patience will well be tested by Jane Withersteen, Zane Grey's lush descriptions of Utah's wilderness carry the rather slow moving plot to a bunch of rip roaring endings.

[andrewfahler · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

good book a few point caought my attention but was a little boring to me

[joannsmithainsworth · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I was looking to learn about action writing. There were some examples in climbing rocks and horse riding, but the logic of the novel fell apart for me and I stopped.

[deltaqueen50 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Zane Grey never allowed political correctness or historical accuracy to interfere in his storytelling but in the case of the overly dramatic, downright cheesy Riders of the Purple Sage, he should have. I am a fan of Grey’s and have enjoyed other books of his that I have read, but I really had trouble sticking with this story to the end. This is a book that should have disappeared, stored away up in grandpa’s dusty attic years ago. It is certainly not a book that should be used today to represent Zane Grey’s work.I had hoped that Riders of the Purple Sage would be a straight forward “cowboy story”, instead it is a strange blend of Morman bashing and romance. The plot points sound good on paper: Cattle rustlers, two couples falling in love and overcoming many obstacles to be together, along with horse stealing, a mysterious masked rider and a little orphan girl, but the one point the readers will take away from this book is the low opinion of Mormon’s that the author must have had. The one area that I felt Zane Grey excelled in was his beautiful descriptive writing. Although it seemed a little over-blown at times, I have travelled in this area of Southern Utah and the colors and scenery are incredible.Riders of the Purple Sage was originally published in 1912 and unfortunately just doesn’t hold up well today.

[jrtanworth · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This book sold 1 million copies in 1912 at the height of an anti-Mormon fever.Today, it seems bigoted and bombastic. However, the descriptions of Southern Utah mesa country and feats of horsemanship are great.

[thornton37814 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Jane Withersteen is a Mormon woman who has inherited her father's ranch. She dares to defy the church and faces opposition in more ways than one from church leaders. The book has the elements one would expect in a typical Western novel. I just don't really enjoy the genre, and I never really enjoyed Westerns on television. My inability to get into this book and enjoy it is probably more of a reflection of my dislike of the genre than of the quality of writing. If you enjoy Westerns, give it a try in spite of my dislike. I made a comment to a friend of mine as I was reading the book that the negative comments one heard about Mormons during the Romney presidential campaign paled in comparison to the contempt for Mormons in the novel. I really only stuck with the book because of the group read.

[hmskip · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

We meet Lassiter and Jane Withersteen, Burn Vinters and, eventually, Elizabeth Ern.We discover Surprise Valley where Lassiter and Jane finally escape forever. It is a story of rustlers and Mormons. Never politically correct, Grey portrays the Mormons as evil and depraved oppressors of their women. Lassiter is the gunslinger who kills them. Withersteen is the devout Mormon woman whose indomitable spirit will not allow her to give herself to Tull, the Mormon leader. Her intransigence leads to a showdown in which she must lose all - except for the appearance of Lassiter, who saves her. Grey's beautiful descriptions of the the sage-covered land and the men of action who inhabit her are a joy to read.

[gaskella_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A while ago I received a copy of the Oxford World’s Classics catalogue inviting me to ask for any books I’d like to review on my blog. Where to start! I could have chosen hundreds, but one in particular leapt out at me from a genre I’d never read before.The evocative title has a lot to do with it (and there’s a band called New Riders of the Purple Sage). I grew up with Westerns – The Virginian, Alias Smith & Jones and The High Chapparal on TV, John Wayne and Clint Eastwood on film. Having worked in a library for my Saturday job in the late 1970s, I had heard of Zane Grey, Louis Lamour, JT Edson and others – they were quite popular then, so the author’s distinctive name did ring a bell. Indeed, I’ve enjoyed modern novels in a similar vein too – Cormac McCarthy’s Border Trilogy was superb. Could this book, one of the originals in the genre, hold its own against all the above?Pearl Zane Grey (his real name) was born in Ohio in 1872. He won a baseball scholarship to Penn where he studied dentistry – but he always wanted to become a writer. He was a bit of a lad too, and would often disappear off hunting, fishing or visiting old girlfriends! However, with his wife’s help, he developed his writing career. Inspired by another classic western novel The Virginian by Owen Wister, Riders as I’ll call it for short, was Grey’s greatest novel; published in 1912 it was fairly early in his long career which made him a millionaire.The first few paragraphs set the scene beautifully…"A sharp clip-clop of iron-shod hoofs deadened and died away, and clouds of yellow dust drifted from under the cottonwoods out over the sage.Jane Withersteen gazed down the wide purple slope with dreamy and troubled eyes. A rider had just left her and it was his message that held her thoughtful and almost sad, awaiting the churchmen who were coming to resent and attack her right to befriend a Gentile.She wondered if the unrest and strife that had lately come to Cottonwoods was to involve her. And then she sighed, remembering that her father had founded this remotest border settlement of southern Utah and that he had left it to her. She owned all the ground and many of the cottages. Withersteen House was hers, and the great ranch, with its thousands of cattle, and swiftest horses of the sage. To her belonged Amber Spring, the water which gave verdure and beauty to the village and made living possible on that wild purple upland waste. She could not escape being involved by whatever befell Cottonwoods."That was enough to totally transport me into this frontier world – after a mere few pages I was totally hooked. You can see the landscape with its sagebrush, and coppery red canyons in the distance. What was particularly surprising, is that the main character is a woman – a strong one at that; but also that even in the frontier villages of the wild west there is intolerance – here between the Mormons and the Gentiles.Jane, being an heiress, is under immense pressure to wed the Mormon preacher, and he and his men don’t like the friendship she has with Bern Venters. They drive Venters out of town so to speak, but Jane is saved from enforced marriage by the arrival of the gunman Lassiter who stays to help, and has a quest of his own. The Mormons plan a war of attrition on Jane – their women spy on her, their men stop working for her, and one of her herds of cattle is rustled. Jane struggles with her religion, finding it hard to see evil, and always wanting to look after her folk, but it’s not until she adopts an orphan child of one of her tenants that her eyes are opened and she lets herself find true love. Meanwhile Venters who is hiding in the canyons, discovers the rustlers base of operations, and shoots one of them known as the Masked Rider – the identity of whom is another story.I won’t tell you any more of the plot to save spoiling it, but this novel has a bit of everything you could expect from a Western – cowboys, horses, rustlers, preachers, girls, ranches, cattle, gunfights, horse chases, kidnapping, and more, plus that beautiful landscape. If my initial surprise was over the shock of religion playing such a crucial part, a more pleasant one was due to the degree of romance in what was traditionally a ‘man’s novel’ – well every cowboy needs his girl, (at least until Brokeback Mountain - another truly fine Western movie). The characterisation was strong throughout and particularly interesting was that we got to see the inner life of Jane, Lassiter and Venter – their thoughts, their hopes, fears and desires. It’s not action all the way through, there’s also an appreciation of a civilised life lived on the edge.I think you can tell I was rather besotted by this book – loved it!

[pmcnamee67 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Some good stuff, some clunky stuff, some predictable twists, some surprises.

[marthahuntley · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This is this month's selection of one of my book discussion groups, nominated with some insistence by our lone male member. The only Westerns I'd ever read are Appaloosa, Resolution, and Lonesome Dove. Riders of the Purple Sage, written in 1912, is one of the first of the genre and that makes it of historical interest, but I found the book awfully hard going, primarily because it was written in 1912, and the language used for novels those days was atrocious. More than half of the writing is description of the surroundings ("The West," with all its buttes and canons as they were spelled then) which, as evidenced by other reviews of this book, was appreciated by folks who like that kind of thing, but I do not. And am I right in saying "Riders" is the term for people we now call "Cowboys"? The plot isn't bad; it reminds me a little of a romance novel written from the male point of view, or what I think a romance novel written by a man would be like (I don't read romance novels either). I was surprised at the Mormon element -- boy, I bet the Mormons hated Zane Grey! I kept imagining what the book would be like If the same plot were used by a current, talented novelist....I'd want to read THAT book.

[leslie398 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Lots of Mormon bashing in this. I wish that the heroine Jane was a more realistic character. Her attempts to "save" the various men were annoying and after declaring that she would do anything to get the child Fay back, including marrying the despicable Tull, she then proceeds to agree to fly with Lattimore without a word about Fay!

[cwflatt · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I have to put this in my top ten. One of the greatest stories I have ever read. So many heros and villians.

[benedict8-2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I listen to books via audio versions and like Audible.com's version of this book.

I believe a few of this book's genre merit reading by anyone today. This is probably one of the best of these books. It deals with the Mormon community rather pointedly, in that our lady-in-distress is having trouble fending off the affections of a Mormon leader, who is already married several times over, now wanting her.

[jvioland_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I love this book. It started the Western genre. Wholly believable. The terrain is a significant character. It also reflects the popular opinion of Mormonism at the time. They were not the innocent practitioners that they appear to be today.

[aliceanna-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Great story. I immediately downloaded the sequel because I wanted to know more about what happened to Jane and Lassiter and Bess and Venters ... and the horses. Good storytelling and lovely descriptive passages. Maybe some of the characters were a little stock, but it didn't keep you from caring about them.

[sometimeunderwater · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

All a bit silly, really. It may have invented a genre, but it's still just full of cartoons: hardened cowboys, flouncy fainting women and inexplicably wicked villains. The plot is driven along largely by coincidence, and doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Still fun.

[vcg610 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Zane Grey first published this Western novel back in 1912, and it has become the standard by which others are measured. I don't know that it would survive a politically correct editor today, but it remains a great and exciting read, with John Wayne-type good guys, some really sinister bad guys wrapped in religious privilege, and a strong and godly young woman as the protagonist.Jane Withersteen has inherited a vast ranch with huge herds of cattle from her Mormon pioneer father. She is successfully managing the ranch and her employees as well as helping poor families wherever she sees a need. But the Mormon elder who has been courting her determines to break her financially when she rejects his offer to become one of his several wives.Jane's help comes from some Gentile (non Mormon) Cowboys who are not intimidated by the Mormon leaders, though even they may not be able to overcome the many wiles of the Mormon leadership, which holds strong spiritual and psychological authority over the Mormon families who make up the community as a whole.Greg's descriptions of the wild and rugged plains, high cliffs and deep valleys of Utah transport the reader back so effectively that one can almost smell the sage, feel the speed and power of the horses they ride, and the raw fear and excitement engendered by stampeding cattle. Oh, and there is a love story or two as well to enrich the adventure. Thoroughly enjoyed it and think you will too!

[nhalliwell-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Review first posted on Audiobook Reviewer.

Riders of the Purple Sage
Written by: Zane Grey
Narrated by: Ann M. Richardson
Length: 11 hrs and 49 mins
Series: Riders of the Purple Sage, Book 1
Unabridged Audiobook
Release Date:04-18-16
Publisher: Post Hypnotic Press Inc.


Riders of the Purple Sage is a classic western from author Zane Grey. It was published in 1912 and has remained in print and popular to this day. The story is set in 1871 in the Utah territory. There is no separation of church and state. The Mormon church and it’s patriarchal society hold all power.

The main character Jane is very non-traditional for the time period and for Mormon women. She is unmarried in her late twenties. She is also wealthy because of inheriting her father’s estate. She further defies convention by refusing to marry one of the Mormon elders in the area who demand she get in line with church teachings. Worst of all, in the eyes of her Mormon neighbors, is her belief in treating all men, whether Mormon or Gentile (non-Mormon) with equal dignity.

Her property is very valuable since it has a reliable water source. Her horses are also well known and sought after. Elder Tull wants to marry her, her wealth equal in his eyes to her beauty. The local Bishop, Dyer, supports Tull in his attempt to make Jane into a respectable Mormon wife. When Jane does not jump at the chance to become another of Tull’s wives, Tull and Dyer set about forcing her by attacking her Gentile ranch hands. Without her trusted hands, Jane cannot keep the ranch functioning.

As Jane continues to fight for what she feels is right and not what the Mormon men tell her is right, help comes from an unexpected and very dangerous source. Lassiter, a gunman known for his antipathy towards Mormons and accused of killing several Mormon men, arrives at Jane’s ranch. His reputation proceeds him and causes the to resort to even more violence in an attempt to force Jane into marriage.

Lassiter is an anti-hero. He is a man who has willingly killed other men. He has a very open hatred of all things Mormon. Yet he demonstrates more honor than the religious men trying to rob Jane of her independence and wealth. The pairing of a gunslinger and a Mormon woman drive the plot to an unexpected and thrilling conclusion.

I enjoyed the book, the first Zane Grey I have read or listened to. My only disappointment was it took Jane so long to realize that the Elder and Bishop were not motivated by religion but by greed. She was naive. Other than that, all the characters were well rounded.

I had previously listened to the version narrated by Mark Bramhall. I was interested to hear the book narrated by a woman, Ann M. Richardson. Different narrators can bring different tones or emphasis to the same book. I was very interested whether the gender of the narrator would affect the story itself. I found the gender of the narrator in this particular instance did not make a difference. Ms. Richardson did a very fine job of narrating the book. After listening to the same passages read by the two different narrators, I found I enjoyed them both. If this is an edge at all, it goes to Ms. Richardson. Her voice is very pleasant and she handles the range of voices, male/female, very well.

Rating: Story (Plot) 4

Rating: Performance 5

Rating: Production Quality 5

Rating: Attention Holding 4

Rating 4.5

ABR received this audiobook for free from the Publisher, Submitted in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect our opinion of the audiobook or the content of our review.

[psutto_2 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very GoodWestern published in 1912 set in 1871This Western is set in Utah which is very much Mormon country and you very much get the impression that the author really didn’t like the Mormons. The principal character is Jane Withersteen who is a Mormon who has defied the church by not getting married and running her father’s ranch with 2 herds of cattle by herself. When she befriends a gentile, Venters, and adopts a gentile child she is targeted by the church who get her riders to quit, then run off one of her herds into the hands of cattle rustlers and take pot shots at a man named Lassiter who has come looking for a friend of Withersteen’s (who she buried some years ago). When Venters goes looking for the missing cattle and shoots a mysterious masked rider the plot thickens. I’m not widely read in the Western genre but this is held to be one of the genres seminal novels. The prose is somewhat overblown and everyone seems to speak in high emotion but the plot itself is a good Western trope, isolated farmhouse being besieged etc.. Withersteen is assisted by the gunslinger Lassiter, there is cattle rustling and lots of details of horses with several being important characters in their own right!Overall – Entertaining early Western novel

[wethewatched · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I'm currently researching the western genre for my own writing, and this book reads through and through like a classic western. Riders, rustlers, gunfights and runaway cattle -- it's all here. While the duels are riveting and certain characters (Lassiter!) are memorable, it certainly drags on in the middle. Still, if you're patient with it, this is a decent read.