tiny stitches puckered up the fingers of the white glove which was floating there ; the fingers were like probes at our souls ; then that spooky glove with its hidden horrible hand which i knew if i could ever see it would be whiter than any humans hand ought to be , shot out and swept its keen knife edge at us , coming out level and slicing through our envy of all the real ranch families , the real wealthy people of arizona , slicing straight through the wicked , vain lies we had told , our tales about our fabulous , mythic ranch , which we were about to plant forever in the minds of innumerable strangers to make ourselves feel more important , more influential , than we were ever destined to be .