CHAPTER XV--PEP AND A LITTLE PEPPER
All Sabbaths were not fine at Canyon Pass, as Hunt realized on openinghis eyes on that important morning. From the same open window throughwhich he had viewed the chaste glories of the Topaz Range a week before,he now saw heavy, thunderous-looking clouds wrapping the peaks andsurging down into the lower reaches of the landscape, blotting out, asthey moved on, each monument that he had learned in this brief time ofhis sojourn to know. It promised no fair day for the parson's firstservice.
This, however, was not the basis of the heaviness that oppressed him.Hunt admitted the cause of his heart-sick feeling without dodging theissue. It was Nell Blossom and her attitude toward him personally thatso troubled the parson of Canyon Pass. That she opposed the good work hewas trying to inaugurate was only a side issue in Hunt's mind.Opposition in general merely spurred a spirit like his to greatereffort. That is, a frank opposition.
But the minister's personal interest in Nell Blossom had becomesomething that controlled him. He could not control it.
It was not right, he told himself, to do any poaching on what heconsidered Joe's preserves. Whether or not Nell cared for the mineowner, Hunt believed he would be disloyal to his friend if he showedanything but the interest of a minister and religious adviser in theyoung woman.
Hunt was honest enough to admit that such feeling was not what inspiredhim in the matter. Nell Blossom was not at all the kind of girl he wouldhave deliberately chosen as the object of a serious affection. But whoof us may choose when love enters the lists?
The winsomeness of Nell shone through the rough and prickly husk of her.He realized that no man could see in all its clarity the girl's soul. Hebelieved that the untaught mining-camp child, used as she was to therude life about her and only that life, was really out of her naturalelement. Whatever Henry Blossom, Nell's dissolute father, may have been,the girl's mother had perhaps given her child as a legacy a naturalrefinement scarcely to be looked for in any person brought up in sounpolished a community.
In short, Nell Blossom's intrinsic worth was no more hidden from theparson than her physical beauty. Her hatred of and disdain for all menhad its root in no fault she had committed. Some man, had it been thatgambler Hunt had heard called "Dick the Devil?" had disillusioned thechild-heart of Nell Blossom and, perhaps, the sweets of love had turnedto ashes in her mouth.
What had become of that gambler? What was the truth about that tragedyat the brink of the canyon wall? Did Tolley know the facts and misstatethem? Or was Dick Beckworth really dead and his body swept away by thetorrent of Runaway River?
It was plain, Hunt decided, that Dick's disappearance weighed heavilyfor some cause on Nell Blossom's mind. Something had happened on thatspring morning weeks before which had changed Nell from thehappy-go-lucky girl the parson knew she must have been to this bitter,disdainful, and apparently wicked woman who scoffed at religion in anyform, and especially had "no use for a pulpit-pounder."
In a week he had become imbued with such an interest in Nell that shewas the subject most in his thoughts at all hours. He could noteradicate her from his mind, though he tried hard to do so.
In his heart he scarcely supposed that the time would ever come when hemight be a suitor for Nell's hand. Joe Hurley stood between them. Butthe Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was old enough and wise enough to knowthat whatever came to him in the future, as long as he retained hisfaculties, Nell Blossom would occupy a niche in his secret heart that noother interest could fill.
Twice at night, when Betty was in bed, Hunt had descended into the laneand, standing at the back of Colorado Brown's place near an open window,listened to Nell sing her songs, even to the caustic one with which sheclosed her act and in response to which the crowd wildly roared itsapplause. The verses about the minister's son "went big." But there wasa sweetness and power in her singing voice that seemed to reveal thebetter qualities of the girl in the more tender ballads she sang; forall her numbers were not of a humorous nature. She could bring tears aswell as smiles to the faces of her audience with that voice.
Betty came tapping at his door while Hunt was still in his robe. Whenshe saw the dark business suit laid out on the bed she frowned.
"Ford! I did hope you would dress properly on this day," she said.
"I am dressing properly--for Canyon Pass," he returned, smiling. "I amnot inclined to attract the hearty laughter and scorn of such members ofthe community as Boss Tolley, Tom Hicks, and their ilk. Clerical garbmight be considered by them as a gratuitous insult. And the last thing Iwish to do here is to antagonize the rougher element."
Although Betty failed to see much distinction in the roughness of thecommunity, she did not open that avenue of discussion. She did saydecisively:
"Why bother about those awful men, Ford? Tolley and his crowd willnever, never be members of your congregation. Maria, Sam's wife, hasbeen giving me the history of those wicked men. She is afraid of herlife because of the gang that hangs about the Grub Stake. That is aterrible institution, and everybody in Tolley's employ is bad."
"And yet, Miss Rosabell Pickett, who plays the piano for Tolley, isgoing to have her own piano trucked over to the meeting room thismorning and will play the hymns herself for us. So some good must befound at the Grub Stake," Hunt rejoined, still smiling. "Besides, ifthey are bad men, I hope to help them."
Cholo Sam was closing the door of his bar and locking it when, later,Hunt and his sister came down from their rooms. Maria, with a jettedjacket, yellow petticoat and reboza, was waiting for her husband.
"Senor Hunt," said the innkeeper, flashing his white teeth as usual, "wehonor ourselfs to attend your service, if we may? Si?"
"I'll be glad to see you and Maria there, Sam."
Hunt then followed Betty out of the hotel. It had rained since sunrise,but had stopped now. They were early for the service. The street wasalmost deserted. It had been arranged by Hurley that the whistle of thehoisting engine at the Great Hope should be blown at a quarter to elevenand again at five minutes of the hour. There was no other means ofsummoning the Passonians to worship.
There was a roar of voices from the barroom of the Grub Stake as theparson and his sister passed. They crossed the street to avoid aquagmire, but the sound of revelry followed them. It seemed that all theother saloons and stores in sight, including the Three Star Grocery,were somnolent.
Bill Judson joined them as they passed the grocery store. The old manwas as solemn as a bishop and as uncomfortable as new shoes, tight lighttrousers of an ancient fashion, and a stiff-brimmed straw hat could makehim.
"Hello! What's the matter with Tolley now?" the storekeeper exclaimed insurprise.
The owner of the Grub Stake had come tearing out of the place, seeminglyblinded by rage, and dashed along the street. The group that boiled outof the Grub Stake after him did not follow, but urged him on withjeering laughter.
"What is it?" asked Betty, startled.
"Dunno," said Judson, quickening his stride. "But the feller's up tosomething."
They were in sight of the meeting room now. The door stood open. WhenTolley reached it he plunged in.
Hunt would not leave Betty, but he hurried her on, while Judson almostran and was over the threshold before them. There was a sudden explosionof voices inside, Tolley's tones high over all.
"Here's that derned cheater now!" the owner of the place was heard toshout as the storekeeper entered. "Bill Judson! you think you're mightysmart, but you can't put nothing like this over on me."
"What's eatin' on you, Tolley?" was Judson's cool response.
"The boys just told me what you folks was aimin' to use this dump for. Ididn't hire it to you for no church. I won't have it, I tell you! Thisis my shack."
"And I've paid rent for it for six months. What you goin' to do aboutit?" drawled Judson.
"I'll show you! I won't let no ham-faced old-timer like you make a foolof me."
Hunt reached the door. Betty was almost afraid to enter. There wereseveral
men inside and two or three women. Tolley was striding towardthe pulpit, swinging his arms and shouting himself hoarse.
"I'll show you!" he shouted. "I own this dump. I'll throw this litterinto the street. A church in my shack? Well, I reckon not!"
The distant whistle at the Great Hope pealed its first signal for theservice. Several groups of Passonians were visible now, convergingtoward the place of worship.
"Better cool down, Tolley," advised Judson again. "We don't aim to haveany riot yere. This used to be your honkytonk, and a dirty place it was.But we reckon on running another sort of business in it, and you can'tstop us. You're trying to throw sand in the gears o' progress, as thefeller said."
"I'll show you what I can do!" shouted Tolley, mounting upon the pulpitplatform. He whirled about, and saw Hunt entering the room. "Here's thatdanged preacher now."
"Mr. Tolley," said the parson clearly, "the wicked have been known tocome to the house of God to scoff and have remained to pray. We aregoing to hold a service here in a quarter of an hour. You are invited tojoin us. But if you remain, I must ask you to be quiet."
"Why, you derned, white-livered tenderfoot! I'll show you----"
He seized upon Mother Tubbs' big Bible and raised it as though he wouldfling it upon the ground. Betty gasped. Judson started forward. ButHunt's voice rang loudest through the room.
"Tolley! Put that Book down!"
The compelling tone made the divekeeper pause. He still glared, his facedistorted by wrath; but, as Joe Hurley had once said, the fellow afterall had not the courage of a rabbit. He really expected Hunt to followthe command with the only show of authority that went in Canyon Pass--thedisplay of a gun!
But the parson had made no threatening gesture. He did not even advancedown the room.
"Dang you!" yelled Tolley, and brought the Bible down upon the pulpitwith such emphasis that the desk rocked.
The following instant his head was surrounded by a halo of fineparticles, the pungency of which was apparent to the surprisedspectators almost at once. Tolley received the blast of powdered cayennefull in the face and eyes!
He gasped--choked--sneezed. He sneezed again, a most vociferous roar ofsound, quite involuntary and spasmodic. The pepper that had beensprinkled between the leaves of the big book had in one burst peltedTolley with its fine grains, filling eyes, nose, and his mouth, for thathad been open to emit another angry shout.
But now he only shouted for help between sneezes. Tears poured down hisface. He staggered blindly down from the pulpit and begged for the openair.
Hunt was first to reach the tortured man and led him forth.
The Heart of Canyon Pass Page 15
