Jane's active mind took up her interest in him and her half-determined desire to use what charm she had to foil his evident design in visiting Cottonwoods.

If she could mitigate his hatred of Mormons, or at least keep him from killing more of them, not only would she be saving her people, but also be leading back this bloodspiller to some semblance of the human.
"Mornin', ma'am," he said, black sombrero in hand.
"Lassiter I'm not an old woman, or even a madam," she replied, with her bright smile.

"If you can't say Miss Withersteen--call me Jane." "I reckon Jane would be easier.

First names are always handy for me." "Well, use mine, then.

Lassiter, I'm glad to see you.