CHAPTER VIII--A FLOWER IN THE MIRE
Had Betty Hunt not had Joe Hurley to steady her as she came down fromthe roof of the stagecoach to the ground in the midst of the crowd, shenever could have stood upright through that scene! The sight of herbrother's hat flying overhead, the target of Hicks' six-gun, led her tobelieve that Hunt was in peril--deadly peril.
She wanted to beg Hurley to run to her brother's rescue, but her tongueclove to the roof of her mouth. What followed utterly appalled her. Sheverily believed that Hunt took his life in his hands when he approachedand browbeat the bad man!
But as she heard the boisterous laughter of the crowd and saw thestrange hat flapping about the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt's ears, Bettybecame suddenly angry.
"Take off that horrid hat, Ford!" she cried when the parson joined them."I beg of you, take it off at once."
"Don't do it, Willie," interposed Hurley. "Let it be. No crown of gloryyou may earn will ever so become you. Continue to wear it, Reverend, andnot a soul in Canyon Pass will ever laugh at _you_, if they do at thehat. It will remind 'em that you're an honest-to-goodness he-man."
Hunt smiled deprecatingly. "You make too much of it, Joe. Don't worry,Betty, about the hat. I might as well keep the joke up a little while."
"'Joke!'" she groaned.
Hurley slapped Hunt resoundingly on the shoulder. "You're all right,Willie!"
This turned Betty against him all the more. It was so uncouth shethought on Hurley's part and so undignified on her brother's. With allthese people looking on, grinning and gaping, was that the way to gainrespect for a clergyman and for his work?
"Well, let's go into the Wild Rose and get you settled," Hurley saidwith that cordiality that did much, after all, to disarm Betty'scriticism. "I told 'Cholo' Sam and Maria to clean up some rooms for youand try and make things halfway decent. But I don't know. This isn'tlike the hotel at Crescent City."
The statement was not conducive to Betty's peace of mind. The sordidnessand squalor of Canyon Pass was being from moment to moment etched moredeeply on her brain. They mounted the steps of unplaned boards andcrossed the porch that shook even under Betty's light tread. Unpaintedwalls, uncarpeted stairs, and not altogether clean floors met her gazeas they entered the hostelry.
If Hunt was appalled by the rudeness of their surroundings he verysuccessfully hid his real feelings. He had spent vacations in thehunting and fishing camps of Maine and Quebec. The lack of even theordinary conveniences of civilized life could not in any case troublehim as it did his gently nurtured sister.
He did, however, on this first evening arrange to have their supperserved in Betty's room, rather than forcing her to eat in the generaldining-room of the hotel. But he explained that they could not thussegregate themselves in the future.
"It wouldn't do, Betty. I must mix with these people--show myself willingto be one of them in ordinary ways. Respect for the cloth cannot be wonamong these open-hearted folk by finnicky manners. I must be one ofthem. I must show them that I am a man as well as a preacher."
She could not agree; but at least she was wise enough not to oppose--atthis time--his evident acceptance of Joe Hurley's advice. She saw in thelatter more clearly than ever a dangerous ally for her brother.
Hunt's abundant cheerfulness--even over the coarse supper-fare and theabsence of napkins--closed his sister's lips even more firmly. The twohad come to Canyon Pass with diametrically opposed mental attitudes.Hunt was prepared to accept things as they should find them, but nothingin Canyon Pass, or about it or its inhabitants, could please Betty.
As darkness fell the town grew noisier, for it was a Saturday night.Betty, looking from her window, saw only flaring oil lamps and gasolinetorches illuminating the street. The men who passed up and down weremuch rougher in appearance and of tongue than those she had watchedunder similar circumstances in Crescent City. There were almost no womenin sight.
Men spoke harshly, or shouted ribaldries to one another. Indeed, thegirl from the East scarcely understood the language they used. Miserablyshe crept to bed. She had locked her door after her brother left her,and she even dragged the pine washstand against it as a barricade.
The Wild Rose Hotel itself was no quiet abode on this night. There was abar, and although it was at the other end of the house, the noise of theshouting, the rude songs, the stamping and quarreling therein made Bettyshake in her bed until long after midnight. She had no idea that herbrother went to bed, fell asleep in a minute, and slept as peacefully asa baby until almost sunrise.
A Sabbath dawn could be as calm at Canyon Pass as at Ditson Corners. Thepearl-gray light of the new day washed the sleep from the ReverendWillett Ford Hunt's eyes. He arose to lean on his elbow and gaze througha window that, curtainless, looked out on Mulligan Lane. There were somefrowsy buildings within sight--evidently dwellings of a kind--but theparson lifted his eyes to the hills feeling with the psalmist that"whence cometh my strength."
They stood--those hills--in serrated ranks from the far east to the pointwhere the sudden uplift of the canyon wall on that side of the riverclosed the outlook. Even Old Graylock of his familiar Berkshires had notthe magnificence of these peaks. He was impressed again as he alreadyhad been with the difference merely in size between these western hillsand the Berkshires, let alone the vast dissimilarity in their contour.
The eminences of western Massachusetts for the most part slope away intowooded and pastured ridges, which themselves melt into the lushlowlands. Their crowns do not seem so imposing as these western peaksbecause of their configuration.
His window was open. Suddenly he became aware of voices below it at theback of the hotel.
Something was going on there--something that revealed the dregs of lifeto be as mean and offensive here in Canyon Pass as they could be in anyplace in the whole world. He heard the maundering tones of anintoxicated man and--sharply contrasted--the voice of a woman.
"Get up, Sam, and come home."
"Hic! Won't go home till mawnin'--till mawnin'--hic--doth 'pear."
"Well, morning's appearing all right, and it'll catch you here,wallerin' like a hog in the lane. Come home with me."
"No. I'm a man. I'm--hic!--independent, I am. I'll go hu-hu-home jestwhenever I please."
"Now's the time to please me, Sam. Get up and come along."
"Couldn't do it, gal. Couldn't think--hic!--of it. 'Twould be givin' up myindepen--dic!--dence. I'm--I'm my own master. Leastways, I am on Sundaywhen the mine's shut down. Here I stand----"
"But you don't stand!" ejaculated the woman's voice sharply. "And Idon't believe you can."
The inebriated man gave no heed to this challenge. "Here I stand," herepeated. "'On Jordan's bank I take my stand, and cast a--hic!--cast awishtful eye'----"
"More'n likely you'll cast a shoe and won't get home at all, if I can'tstart you," complained the woman's voice.
Hunt had risen and was scrambling into the more necessary articles ofhis apparel. He went to the window and looked down into the lane.
There was an overturned box just below the window and slouched down uponit was a withered, baldheaded man whose frayed whiskers and untrimmedhair made him look a deal like an inebriated monkey. There was nothinghumorous looking in this specimen of fallen humanity to the mind of theparson. He could only pity his case.
But it must be confessed the other person engaged in the colloquy gainedHunt's interest and held it at once.
She was small, lissome, of a vigorous figure and vastly more attractiveto his eye than any girl he had ever looked at. Indeed, he was amazed tosee such a really beautiful creature in such squalid surroundings.
"Get up and come home with me," said the girl again. "What will MotherTubbs say when she sees you?"
"Heh? I reckon I better stay yere," was the reply. "Man can't keephis--hic!--dignity when a great walrus of a woman throws him 'round likehe was a sack of spuds. I tell you, gal, I made a great mistake inmarryin' that woman."
"It was a great mistake for her--th
at's a fact," was the sharp rejoinder."You got so many failings I don't see how Mother Tubbs remembers 'em allwhen she prays for you. Ugh! You men! There ain't a one of you I'd givea hoot in a rain-water barrel for. Get up!"
The girl again tried to drag him to his feet. Sam Tubbs merely fell oversideways and sprawled helpless upon the ground.
Hunt, without his coat or vest, but grabbing up the flap-brimmed hat hehad secured from the gunman the evening before, opened his door, randown the back stairway of the hotel, and made his way quickly into thelane. As he appeared before Nell Blossom, standing over the nowslumbering drunkard, he looked anything but the cleric.
"Can I be of help?" he asked.
"You can't help me none, mister," replied Nell brusquely.
"I scarcely think you need help," said Hunt, smiling. "But thisunfortunate----"
"'Unfortunate' is right!" repeated the girl. "Sam Tubbs is sounfortunate that it would be money right now in his pocket if he'd neverbeen born. If I leave him here some of those cheap hangers-on of theGrub Stake or Colorado's place will roll him for all he has in hisjeans. And Mother Tubbs needs what he's got left of his pay--believe me!"
"Where does he live?"
"Where I do. Down the lane a ways."
"I think we can get him there," said Hunt, and without further ado hestooped, got a grip on Sam Tubbs, and proceeded to throw him over hisshoulder like a sack of meal.
The girl's eyes grew round. For the first time she expressed someappreciation--perhaps a little admiration--for his friendliness.
"You wasn't behind the door when they were passing out muscle," sheremarked. "Well, come on. I'll show you the way."
The now slumbering Sam Tubbs was scarcely a heavy burden, and to Huntthe task of carrying him was slight. He was considerably amused as wellas interested in the girl. It was quite apparent that she did not knowhe was the new parson. Evidently she had not been in the crowd the daybefore that had welcomed the coming of the tenderfoot preacher and hissister to Canyon Pass.
Hunt was studying her face now with more than amusement, although herbluff manner of speech and utterly independent air made Nell Blossom arevelation of a new phase of femininity to him. Her speech, in the firstplace, did not accord with her beauty, nor, indeed, with the naturalrefinement expressed in her countenance.
She certainly was a lovely girl! In the early morning light her lightbrown hair seemed threaded all through the mass of it with strands ofgold. Her eyes were the blue of a mountain lake--but with ice in theirdepths. Their gaze, as it was turned on Hunt, was utterly impersonal.
Her peachy complexion as well, offset by dark brows and red lips,aroused Hunt's admiration for its sheer beauty. Brown-gold hair, blueeyes, petite and lissome figure--when had such description of a girlcaught in the cogs of his memory? Somewhere lately he had seen, or hearddescribed, such a sprite of a girl as this.
She was dressed plainly enough in serviceable corduroy--short skirt,blouse, broad-brimmed hat, high laced boots. A crimson scarf was knottedunder the collar of her blouse. She wore no ornament.
Nell did not say much during that brief walk. Not that she was at alltimid or bashful; but she seemed to feel no particular interest in thisyoung man who had put himself out to help Sam Tubbs.
For her own part she considered Sam a nuisance. She had no use for theold reprobate. It was solely for Mother Tubbs' sake that she hadbothered herself with regard to Sam. Finding him drunk--as usual--on herway home from Colorado Brown's place early on this Sunday morning, shehad tried to get him home without realizing at first that Sam was quiteso far gone in liquor as he was.
As for this man who walked by her side, carrying so easily theinsensible Sam, Nell did not question who he was. That he was astranger--possibly a traveling salesman, or "drummer"--perhaps a miningman, she believed, if she thought of him at all. As Hunt suspected, shedid not for a moment identify him as the parson Joe Hurley had broughtto Canyon Pass. In any event she could not have imagined the ReverendWillett Ford Hunt as this sort of person.
They turned abruptly into another narrow alley and came to the front ofthe Tubbs' shack. The yard, fenced by pickets of barrel-staves, wasneatly kept and there was an attempt at a flower bed on either side ofthe walk. Mother Tubbs usually punished Sam for his sin of drunkenness,after he had slept off his potations, by making him weed the tinygardens and rake the path. These penitential activities kept the Tubbspremises spick and span.
Nell led the way imperturbably around to the back door of the shack.This door was open and a thin blue haze--odorous and appetizing--floatedout of the kitchen.
"Just getting a nice breakfast for you, honey," said Mother Tubbs,filling the doorway and seeing Nell first of all. "Now, if only Samwould come along--Is _that_ Sam? He ain't dead, is he?"
"Only dead drunk," said Nell in scorn.
"Where shall I put him?" asked Hunt quietly.
"Well, I reckon it don't much matter. You can drop him down anywhere,mister. I'll fetch a dish-pan o' water and sluice him down when I get achance. But I can't let them cakes sp'ile." Then she saw and recognizedthe parson's face, for Mother Tubbs had been at the Wild Rose Hotel theday before when the stagecoach had arrived. "Goodness me! I declared,Mister--er--Brother Hunt, this _is_ good of ye."
Nell stared. The note of respect in Mother Tubbs' voice revealed in aflash Hunt's identity to the cabaret singer.
"I am sartain sure obliged to you," went on the old woman. "Nell Blossomnever could have got him home alone." Hunt had lowered her husband to aseat on the porch floor and propped his back against a post. "Sleepinglike a baby, ain't he? Well, he can stay thataway till after Nell hasher breakfast."
Hunt was not giving her his attention. The name "Nell Blossom" hadrevealed to him instantly the familiarity of the girl's description.This was the golden-haired, blue-eyed, high-spirited beauty Joe Hurleyhad written about--the girl who could really sing.
They stared at each other while the old woman went back to her cakes.Nell was obviously shifting the gears of her opinion about thisstranger. He, a parson? No lunger, this husky six-footer!
"Mebbe you ain't acquainted," Mother Tubbs said, bustling back from thestove. "Nell Blossom is a-living with me and has been doing so--off andon--for more than three years. Ever since her pa, old Henry Blossom, upand died. She's a singer, Nell is--the sweetest you ever heard, BrotherHunt. I'm hoping, when you get to holding meetings, that we can get herto sing in the choir."
Hunt bowed, smiling, to the girl. Her expression of countenance was noless forbidding than before. She offered him no encouragement.
"Won't you stop for breakfast with me and Nell, Brother Hunt?" went onthe hospitable old woman. "I always try to have something hot and tastyfor Nell when she comes home after her night's work."
Nell started--was it angrily? She opened her lips to speak, then shutthem in a straight, red line. In any case, Hunt caught the significanceof her attitude of objection, had he been tempted to accept the oldwoman's hearty invitation.
"Not this morning, Mrs.--er--Tubbs, is it? Sister Tubbs? I am glad to havemet you." He met her huge hand with a warm clasp of his own. "When weget started here, I am sure I can depend on your aid and good wishes?"
"Youbetcha!" exclaimed the old woman. "And you'll see me in one of thefront seats--mebbe in two of 'em if they ain't bigger than usual," sheadded with twinkling eyes.
He laughed boyishly, lifting the dilapidated old hat to both MotherTubbs and the girl as he turned the corner of the shack. The old womanlooked down admonishingly at Nell Blossom.
"You weren't a mite perlite to the minister, Nell," she complained.
The Heart of Canyon Pass Page 8