The Heart of Canyon Pass

by Thomas K. Holmes

  CHAPTER V--HOW THE PASSONIANS TOOK IT

  "Well," observed Bill Judson oracularly, "it's about time for somethingnew to break in Canyon Pass. About once in so often even adead-an'-alive camp like this yere has got to feel the bump of progressfrom the train behind. Otherwise we'd stay stalled till Gabriel'strump."

  He spoke to Smithy, his single clerk at the Three Star Grocery. He hadto speak to Smithy, or to the circumambient air, for nobody but thegangling clerk was within hearing. They lounged on the store porch inthe middle of the afternoon, and the only other thing alive on the mainstreet of Canyon Pass was a wandering burro browsing on the tufts ofgrass edging the shallow gutters.

  "I don't see as Canyon Pass has got to be bumped by a gospel sharp towake it up," complained Smithy, stretching his arms as though they wereelastic. "Yahhoo! Well, he'll have a sweet time here, Mr. Judson."

  "I dunno," said the storekeeper reflectively. "For my part I feel like Ifavored it."

  "'Cause it's something new?"

  "'Cause it's something needed. I ain't one of those fellers that runafter every new thing just because it is new. But I'm for progress. Iwant to see the Pass get ahead. Crescent City and Lamberton have bothgot churches and parsons."

  "And they've got railroads," put in Smithy, making a good point. "CanyonPass needs the railroad more'n it does a parson."

  "Son," proclaimed Judson, "before Canyon Pass can get a railroadconnection, mountains have got to be moved and the meanest stretch ofdesert that ever spawned lizards, sidewinders and cacti, and produce intheir places about five hundred square mile of irrigated farmland to payfor spiking the rails to the sleepers. See?"

  "Well, the farms might come," declared Smithy defensively.

  "Sure. So might Christmas come at Fourth o' July. But we ain't nevercelebrated the two holidays together yet. No, sir. To irrigate the edgeof that desert even, a dam would have to be built across the southernoutlet of the canyon, and that would back the water up yere in freshetseason till the roof of my shack would be so deep under the surface thatabout all I could properly keep in stock would be perch and rainbowtrout.

  "They ain't building branch railroads no more to mining camps likeCanyon Pass. That's why we all chipped in for the stamp mill and thecyanide plant. Nope. We'll freight in our supplies with mules andcommunicate with the more effete centers of civilization by stagecoachfor some time to come I reckon.

  "That being the case we got to uplift ourselves without the help of theiron horse, as the feller said. And having a church and a parson isuplifting."

  "Nobody ain't talked very brash about a church."

  "Parson comes first. Naturally. Of course this friend of Joe Hurley isonly coming on a visit at first."

  "He'll have a sweet visit here," repeated Smithy.

  "That's according," said Judson. "We got to be hospitable. If a judge,or a senator, or a school teacher, or even a drummer sellin' fishin'tackle, came yere we'd feel like we wanted to show him the town's bestside. Why not this parson?"

  "Huh! A drummer don't try to convert us and innovate psalm-singing andsuch," grumbled Smithy.

  "Son," drawled Judson, his eyes twinkling under his bushy brows, "you'reconvicted of sin right now. You're scare't of this parson--and that's thetrouble with most of you fellers who are raising a yawp against progressas represented by this Reverend Hunt."

  "'Taint only us fellers," grumbled Smithy. "Some of the womenfolk ain'tpleased. Say! Nell says she don't want no black-coated parson in thiscamp. Says it would give her the willies, so she couldn't sing."

  It was an indisputable fact--Joe Hurley himself had discovered it--thatthe Passonians were divided upon the matter of the expected coming ofthe Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. The sheep and the goats that hadheretofore milled together in a general herd, were dividing uponstrictly religious lines. Joe was somewhat surprised. Some of the verypeople he had presumed would welcome the innovation, were suspicious ofit.

  Mr. Robertson Norris, "Slickpenny" Norris was his undignifiedappellation, became quite red of face and beat rather a futile fist uponthe banking counter as he gave his opinion to Joe Hurley. Norris was apuny-looking, string-bean sort of man. The height of rage could not havemade his appearance impressive.

  "Joe Hurley, you are a director of this bank, and your last statement ofthe Great Hope shows that you are a good mining man. I find on mostsubjects you display good sense. But on this question you're allwrong--all wrong!"

  "I don't get you--I don't get you at all," drawled Hurley. "A moral manlike you, Norris, I reckoned would welcome the idea of having a parsonin the town."

  "I have no quarrel with parsons--none at all, Joe," declared the banker."But Canyon Pass is in no present shape--financially, I mean--tocontemplate the building of a church edifice. A church is something youcan't tax, and it brings in absolutely no revenue to the town. It's notan asset, but a liability, and the Pass can't afford any such luxuriesat this time."

  "Great saltpeter!"

  "Listen to me, Joe Hurley! I've advocated proper town improvements, evenwhen they take the skin off my own nose, and always will. I am strongfor Main Street being paved and sidewalks laid, though 'twould cost me apretty penny. We ought to set out trees. Them oil lamps on wooden postsare a disgrace. I'd make every merchant paint the front of his buildingson Main Street once a year, by law."

  "Well! What's the matter with a church?" demanded Hurley. "That is, ifwe get that far."

  "It's absolutely no use. If one is built it won't be nothing but ashack. It won't add anything to the importance of the town. No, I don'tapprove. I'm disappointed in you, Joe."

  "All right--all right!" cried Joe in some heat. "But I'm not disappointedin you, old-timer. Great saltpeter! I wonder what you did before youdrifted into Canyon Pass that a parson and religion are likely to bringfresh into your memory."

  With this backhand slap at the banker, the young man went out. It wasrather odd that Joe Hurley, like Bill Judson, should suspect thePassonians of the same secret reason for not desiring a spiritualrefreshment of the town. But then, both the storekeeper and the owner ofthe Great Hope were observant of human nature and knew Canyon Pass andits inhabitants very well.

  Joe Hurley's proposal was rattling the dry bones. If he saw two menconversing on the street, with both their arms and whiskers waving inthe breeze, he might be sure the topic under discussion was the comingof "that gospel-sharp Joe Hurley's sicked on to us."

  If two housewives met in midflight between store and store in the courseof a forenoon's shopping, the principal subject of gossip was bound tobe the possibility of a parson settling in Canyon Pass. Nor did thefeminine opinion always march with that of Mother Tubbs.

  In spite of the emancipation of the sex and its introduction to the highoffice of the ballot, the women of the mining town were--like womeneverywhere--considerably influenced by the expressed opinions of theirhusbands, brothers, and sons. If Charlie Raidlaw, who dealt faro forBoss Tolley, or Phin Shattuck, one of Colorado Brown's "gentlemanlymixers," gave it as his opinion that a white-liveried, lily-handedparson was going to be a pest in the town and sure to hurt business,Mrs. Charlie and Sue Shattuck, Phin's sister, were pretty sure to scoutthe idea that a parson in the Pass would be any improvement.

  "It's needed," Rosabell Pickett announced with conviction. Rosabellplayed the piano in the Grub Stake, painted her face like a PiuteIndian, dressed as gaudily as a circus poster, and was the only employeeBoss Tolley had who really was not afraid of him. In fact, Rosabell wasnot afraid of any man and had small respect for most; she was frank insaying so. A girl can be a piano player in a honkytonk and be long onself-respect. Rosabell approved of herself--quite.

  "It's needed," repeated Rosabell. "I wish he'd preach in the street outthere, just stir up the people till they was with him, every one, andthen march in here with an ax and smash every hootch bottle behind yourbar, Tolley--that's what I wish."

  "You're crazy, Rosie!" cried the proprietor of the Grub Stake. "I'dhafter go a-gunnin' for any
man that tried to smash up my businessthataway, and that wouldn't make the Grub Stake friends. You oughtn't tobite the hand that feeds you, Rosie. If it wasn't for the Grub Stake--andme--you wouldn't be wearin' rhinestone shoebuckles."

  "Is that so?" countered the young woman. "You needn't worry none aboutmy biting your hand 'nless you keep it washed oftener than is yourpresent habit. And I want you to know that I don't sell my opinions whenI take the Grub Stake's pay-envelope--not much!"

  "Well, I wanter see that dratted parson come in yere!" said Tolleyblusteringly.

  "He won't come alone," put in Hurley, who had been listening at the barto the argument.

  "Huh?"

  "I say he won't come in here alone. I might as well serve notice hereand now that this Parson Hunt is a friend of mine. I don't never aim tothrow a friend down or fail him when he gets into a jam. If he comes inhere--for any purpose, Tolley--I'll likely be with him."

  "You keep him out o' yere! You keep him out!" blustered the other. "Wedon't want no sky pilots here in the Pass. Anyway, I won't have 'em inthe Grub Stake."

  A burly fellow in overalls and riding boots broke in. He had alreadysampled Tolley's red-eye more deeply than was wise.

  "You say the word, boss," he growled, "and we'll run the preacher out o'town."

  Joe Hurley looked at the ruffian coldly. "You won't run anybody out oftown, Hicks--not any," the mine owner said. "But I'll tell you somethingthat may be worth your attention. If Canyon Pass ever gets up on itshind legs and reares and starts to run certain tramps and ne'er-do-wellsout of town, I'm ready to lay a bet with any man that you'll be right upin the forefront of them that are chased out. Get me?"

  Hicks, scowling, dropped his hand to the gunbutt peeping above thewaistband of his overalls. Joe Hurley did not flicker an eyelash normove a finger. Finally Hicks lurched away with an oath and went outthrough the swinging doors.

  "And that's that," said Rosabell briskly, cutting the tense chord ofsilence. "I always did say the more of a boozer a man is, the quickerhe'll take water. I hope your friend Mr. Hunt, Joe, has got backbonesame as you have. Is he an old gentleman?"

  "Not so you'd notice it," replied Hurley with a sudden grin.

  He remained awhile to bandy repartee with Rosabell and some of the otheridlers. But Boss Tolley slipped out of the honkytonk, although he didnot follow Hicks.

  Mulligan Lane ran at the rear of the stores, saloons, and otheramusement places facing this side of Main Street. Colorado Brown'scabaret was not far from Tolley's rear door. It was dusk of rather asultry day--a day that had forecast the heat of the approaching summer.

  Tolley lounged under the withered cottonwood behind Brown'sdance-pavilion. The sign of the flood's highwater mark--that flood oftwenty years before--had been cut by some idle knifeblade deep into thebole of the tree high over Tolley's head, and he was a tall man. Asallow-faced, bony giant of a man was Tolley, hairy and brawny, withouta redeeming feature in his cruel countenance. Had he not possessed, inthe memorable words of Bill Judson, "a wishbone where his backboneshould have been," Boss Tolley would have been a very dangerous man.Lacking personal courage he depended upon the backing of men like Hicksand his bouncer, Macpherson.

  He slouched now under the tree and waited--a sullen lump of a figurewhose dark garments blended with the shadowy trunk as the night fell.The small figure coming up the slope of the lane approached the backdoor of Colorado Brown's place without seeing the man until almostwithin arm's length.

  "Hey, Nell!" She started, looked up, stepped back a pace. "Don't bescare't of me."

  "Don't flatter yourself, Tolley," replied the girl curtly.

  "I want to speak with you."

  "I don't want to speak to you."

  "Say--listen! You ain't treating me right. You walked out and left meflat. You didn't even ask me for a raise. How'd you know I wouldn't giveyou as much as Brown does?"

  "I didn't want to know. I got through. You didn't have any hold on me,Tolley."

  "Mebbe not. Mebbe I have. You better listen," for the girl was turningscornfully away. "You and Dick played it low down on me."

  Now she gave him her full attention. It was so dark under the tree thathe could not see her face clearly, but he knew some sudden emotion shookher. To himself he grinned.

  "I got to admit my losing you and Dick has put a crimp in the GrubStake's business. You was my best performer, and Dick Beckworth was thebest card-sharp I had. Looker here! You come back to the Grub Stakeand--and I won't say nothing more."

  "What do you mean?" She had almost instantly gained control of herself."You can say all you like. I am never going to sing in your jointagain."

  "You ain't?"

  "No."

  "You better think again." His voice was grim, menacing. "I can saysomething you won't like to hear."

  "Say it." She spat the command out as boldly as was her usual speech;but in her heart sudden fear fluttered like a netted bird.

  "I been tellin' them Dick Beckworth lit out for Crescent City, and thatI heard later he was dealing 'em in Denver."

  "Dick Beckworth?" gasped the girl.

  "Yeppy. I told 'em that. But I know derned well he didn't ride norththat day----"

  "Why do you speak to me of Dick Beckworth?"

  She tried to say it boldly, calmly. She stared at him in the dusk, herfigure tense. He could see her blue eyes gleam like twin sapphires.

  "I'm telling you. Listen," whispered Tolley hoarsely. "I could show 'emthe bones of Dick's hoss in the gravel below the Overhang--right at theedge of Runaway River. I got his saddle right now in my big safe. Whatdo you say to that?"

  "Dick----"

  "I reckon you know how the hoss and the saddle went over the cliff. AndDick was with 'em. He wasn't with 'em when I raked out the saddle. Dickhad gone to some place a dern sight more distant than Crescent City--noryet Denver."

  She was silent. He could hear her quick, labored breathing. Satisfactionfired all the mean soul of the man.

  "You think it over, Nell."

  He turned and lurched heavily away. The girl stood rooted to the place,more shaken, more terrified, than even Boss Tolley suspected. He was outof sight before she gained strength to move.