The Heart of Canyon Pass

by Thomas K. Holmes

  CHAPTER XX--MURDER WILL OUT

  Joe Hurley had lost none of his admiration for his college friend whomhe had encouraged to come West. He still believed the Reverend WillettFord Hunt was the very man to find the heart of Canyon Pass. Nor didevents as they developed disprove his pre-judgment of the result ofHunt's coming.

  But it must be confessed a sour note had come into the life of the ownerof the Great Hope. He was a worker; he was energetic; he never under anycircumstances neglected business--not even when he had been mostattentive to Betty Hunt. But he now had little joy in his work andlooked for recreation to a means he had eschewed for the most part sincethe Easterners had arrived.

  Like most men of his class and upbringing, the ex-cow-puncher foundsatisfaction for a certain daring trait in his character at the gamblingtable. The coarser forms of pleasure in the honkytonks did not attractJoe Hurley. He danced occasionally with the better class of girls; henever drank more than he thought was good for him--and he carried hisdrink well; but when he "sat in" at a game of stud poker or went upagainst the wheel--roulette was popular with the Passonians--he admittedin his saner moments that he "didn't know when he had enough." The wildstreak in the fellow showed through the veneer of repression as it hadwhen he was in college.

  Hunt could not feel as lenient now toward these escapades as he oncehad. Not alone had the Easterner's outlook on life become more serious;but after five years Joe Hurley, he thought, should have "grown up." Hewas, however, too wise to utter a single word in opposition to Joe'srenewed course in moral retrogression. He took Sam Tubbs to task when hemet that old reprobate staggering home from the saloons and gave him atongue-lashing that Sam admitted afterward made his wife's nagging seemlike a cradle lullaby. Hunt faced down Slickpenny Norris on the openstreet, to the delight of the bystanders, over the banker'sniggardliness in opposing the building and equipment of the hospital.The parson had been known to seize upon two well-grown young fellowsfighting in a vacant lot to the delight of their fellows, knock theirheads together resoundingly and send each home "with a flea in his ear."But he had not a word of admonition it seemed for Joe Hurley.

  Yet Hunt was troubled about his friend. He feared Betty knew somethingabout the reason for the change in the mine owner. But here again he wassilent. He knew his sister well--too well to try to gain her confidenceon any matter which she would not give gratuitously.

  Hunt had been much too busy at the time when Hurley began to withdrawfrom Betty's companionship to notice the gradual drifting apart of thetwo. When the brother awoke to the fact that his friend and his sisterseemed to be mere acquaintances again, Betty had found a close companionin Nell Blossom.

  Under certain circumstances this latter fact might have encouraged Huntto consider his own influence with Nell as increasing; but by this timehe had gained more than a casual acquaintance with the cabaret singer'scharacter. Joe Hurley had not written too strongly about Nell'sstubbornness. Hunt had undertaken in several ways to break down the wallthe girl had raised between them. She fought him off with all the vigorof a wildcat and without much more politeness than one of those felineswould have shown.

  He met her at Mother Tubbs'--not by intention; but he was ratherfrequently there to confer with the uncultured but very sensible oldwoman. Nell snubbed him, or scorned him, or was downright impudent tohim, just as her mood chanced to be. He had to warn the old woman to payno attention to the girl's attitude or there would have been a flare-upbetween the two. And Hunt very well knew that while Nell lived withMother Tubbs she was pretty safe.

  He heartily approved, too, of her intimacy with Betty. He could notgauge the influence Betty was having on the self-willed girl; but he hadconfidence in his sister, and he knew Nell would only be helped by theassociation and that Betty would not be injured.

  The opposition of Boss Tolley and his gang was the last thing to troublethe placidity of Parson Hunt's soul. They snapped and barked, but had asyet come to no close-quarters since Tolley's adventure with thepepper-besprinkled Bible. That tale had convulsed the Passonians withmirth, and even when weeks later it was retold, it brought ready laughsfrom the citizens.

  It was now fall, a golden-and-red autumn that enthralled the visitorsfrom the East when they looked abroad to the hills of a morning. EvenBetty confessed that the glories of the Berkshires at the same seasonwere surpassed by this sight. She had come now to appreciate the rudeand bold lines of the mountains and the gaudy color schemes offrost-bitten shrubbery intermixed with the emerald of the _Coniferae_.

  The early brightening of the face of nature by these autumnal tintsforetold for the natives of Canyon Pass an early winter. To make thisassurance doubly sure, old Steve Siebert and Andy McCann came wanderingback to the Pass weeks ahead of their scheduled time.

  It was a fair enough day when the two old prospectors came in--McCann inthe morning and Siebert along toward night. In all the time they hadbeen absent, after getting out of the canyon itself, they had not beenin sight of each other. One had prospected east of the Runaway, and theother west. Their activities in fact had been at least a hundred milesapart. But both had seen signs--unmistakable signs--of approaching winter.

  They met as usual the amused inquiries of the Passonians regarding the"ten-strike" they had been expected to make. Was there due to be astampede for the scene of the claims they had staked out? Had theybrought in samples of the "real stuff" that would start a regularCripple Creek boom somewhere out in the Topaz?

  The two old men grinned, their watery eyes blinking, and "stood thegaff" as patiently as they always did. Why did they spend half the yearin the ungodly loneliness of the desert places, and in the end bringnothing back with them? Not even an additional coating of tan, for theirleathery faces and hands were already so darkened that the sun and windhad no effect upon them.

  "You old duffers ain't right in your minds," said Judson to Andy McCann."Just as loco as you can be. Ye never did make a strike and ye neverwill----"

  "Lots you know about it, Bill," grumbled McCann, his jaws movingstiffly.

  "Well, you never did, did you?" demanded the storekeeper, with twinklingeyes.

  "If you were yere twenty years ago----"

  "You know derned well I was, Andy," put in Judson. "Reckon I was. Andbefore."

  "You recommember the flood then?"

  "I ain't lost my mem'ry," muttered Judson.

  "All right. Keep _that_ in yer mind," said Andy, shaking his head insenile fashion. "There was a discovery made that year that you--nornobody else in Canyon Pass--knowed anything about. Talk about the motherlode! Well!"

  "Is that so?" cried the storekeeper eagerly. "Then why wasn't it worked?I knowed you and Steve brought in samples of the right stuff; but----"

  "Steve," snarled McCann, his whole manner changing. "That derned rat?Him? He didn't have no more to do with findin' that vein----Huh! Huh!" Hecoughed, fell silent, went out of the store, deaf to any furtherquestions.

  It was Joe Hurley, standing with Hunt on Main Street, who was first towelcome Steve Siebert as he came along, riding his lean mare and towingthe burro that looked as though it might have been carved rudely out ofdesert rock.

  "Well, old-timer, I certainly am glad to see you," the mining man said."What luck?"

  "Oh, so-so," croaked the prospector.

  "Ain't going to tell us you worked all summer just to get free air?" andJoe chuckled.

  "Sumpin' like it," replied Siebert, and grinned toothlessly.

  "You do beat my time! Goin' to come over to the Great Hope? There's ajob for you."

  "Mighty nice of you, Joe. I'll come," said the old man, nodding.

  "And not a darn thing to show for all your pickin' and smellin' aboutthe Topaz since spring?"

  "Not what you'd call a bonanza."

  "Youbetcha!" ejaculated Hurley. He turned with a grin to Hunt. "MeetParson Hunt, Steve. We've done more in the Pass this summer than youhave on the desert. We've got us a real parson, and we're aimin' to havea sure-enough church."

&n
bsp; "That's a good word," agreed Steve solemnly, leaning to shake Hunt'shand. The old man's palm was as dry and scaly as a lizard's back."There's a heap o' folks yere that need religion. I understand thatderned Andy McCann's got back."

  The gibe was obvious. Joe grinned with appreciation.

  "Yep," he said. "And he hasn't got any more to show for his summer'swork than you have."

  "Him!" snarled Steve. "Of course he ain't. That dumb-head wouldn't findgold in the mint. No, sir! Never did find any----"

  "I thought he did make a ten-strike once, but that the slide twentyyears ago knocked his claim into a cocked-hat?"

  "What? Him? Does he say so?" ejaculated Siebert, his wrinkled, tannedcountenance flaming angrily.

  "I heard tell," and Joe chuckled.

  "He's a plumb liar. He didn't find any such thing. If there was any suchdiscovery made in them days, it was me that done it. Youbetcha! But_him_! Huh! Anyway, it's all buried deeper 'n the Pit--take it from me,"and, grumbling, Steve Siebert rode on.

  "Believe me, Willie," said Hurley, "there's a case for you. Try to getthose two together."

  "These two old men are enemies?" asked Hunt quietly.

  "That's no name for it. They hate each other as only two fellers can whoonce were the closest friends. Old Steve and Andy were once as close astwins. But they tell me for twenty years they have been snarling at andback-biting each other something scandalous. If you want to introducelove and kindness into the hearts of Canyon Pass folks, Willie, justgive those two old ruffians a whirl."

  He laughed--not the kind of laugh he would have uttered some weeksbefore. There was a sneering note in Joe Hurley's voice now when hespoke of Hunt's work and the better things of life. The parson noted itnow as he had often noticed it of late, but he said nothing in commentat this time. He merely observed, before separating from Joe to returnto the hotel for supper:

  "Drop into the meeting room to-night, Joe. You haven't shown muchinterest in the Men's Club lately, and the work should have yourapproval. Besides, there are certain business matters that must bediscussed at once."

  "Well," said Joe gruffly.

  He did not promise to attend. He did not attend.

  "I wonder what kept Joe away?" Hunt ventured to Judson, as they, thelast of the company, left the meeting room and the parson locked thedoor. That was never left unlocked since Nell Blossom's trick withMother Tubbs' Bible. "I expected him to-night to give us his views onthat matter."

  The old storekeeper turned to him and grinned. "Joe's mighty busy, Ireckon," he said.

  "In the evening?"

  "This evening, youbetcha!"

  "In just what way, Judson? What's up your sleeve?"

  "My funnybone," chuckled the storekeeper. "And I have to laugh. Justabout once in so often Joe seems to lose ev'ry mite of sense he was bornwith. He thinks he can beat the man that got the first patent out onstud poker."

  "Ah! I know Joe used to like cards. When he was East. But now----Is it asbad as you intimate, Judson?"

  "Some worse, I'm free to say," declared the old man. "Joe's gone upagainst Colorado Brown's dealer, Miguel, several times lately. They getup a round game of a few fellers--all friends. But Miguel is alwaysplayin' for the house. He's a wonder. 'Last Card Mike' they sometimescall him. He seems to be able to read clean through the backs of anypack o' cards you put up to him. He's a wizard--no mistake."

  "You mean that Joe is losing money in this game?" asked Hunt, with someapprehension.

  "Me, I'd just as soon bet on flies with their shoes stuck in molasses asto play stud. Youbetcha!" returned Judson, with a chuckle.

  Hunt separated from the storekeeper and walked slowly toward the WildRose. He passed Colorado's place; then he turned back. It is a matter ofmuch moment for one man to interfere in another's private affairs, andno one realized this fact better than the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt.His office could not excuse any unasked advice or intervention inHurley's chosen course, no matter how much Hunt desired to restrain hisfriend.

  He hesitated again when he faced the swinging doors. There was not muchnoise inside. This was not a Saturday night and the amusement placesalong Main Street were not crowded. Most of the Passonians who wastedtheir money in the several places of this character spent it all andspent it quick. The mid-week nights were lean for the dive keepers.

  It was not lack of courage that restrained Mr. Hunt from preaching ageneral revival and a bitter war against the cohorts of the devil inthis town. Merely, the time was not yet ripe. Sometimes he feared thatit never would be ripe. Certainly he had not yet reached the heart ofCanyon Pass. Since the first shack had been built here at the junctionof the two forks, the enemy had been in power; and it was now wellentrenched.

  But to-night Hunt was impressed by the feeling that his friend neededhim. Joe was slipping away from him. For some unexplained reason thevery man who had brought him here to the Pass and coaxed the idea of aspiritual uplift of the place into germination, was backsliding.

  The parson began to feel that he could not stand by and see this thinggo on. He pushed through the flaps of the door. He had seldom enteredthis, or any of the other saloons, in the evening.

  His entrance now, however, did not serve to startle any of the habitues.Brown himself came forward to shake hands with the parson. Some of theplayers at the green-covered tables nodded to Hunt. The three-pieceorchestra in the dance hall at the back was droning out a fox-trot. Nellwas not singing. The principal interest seemed to be about a cornertable at which the parson saw Joe Hurley sitting.

  After a word to Brown in greeting, the parson walked over to this cornertable and joined the group standing about it. Hurley looked up, grinned,and said:

  "Hullo, Willie! Want me?"

  "I've something to ask you--by and by, when you are done."

  "Looks like an all-night session," returned Hurley, immediately givinghis attention to the cards again. "Mike, here, is trying to skin mealive and the sheep is bleatin'. Deal 'em, Mike."

  Hunt said nothing more; but he remained. By the grim set of Joe's lipsand the silence of the company about the table, he knew that the momentwas unpropitious for any insistence on his part that his friend give himhis attention. Yet he had the feeling that something was going tohappen, that his place was here at this gambling table rather than atthe hotel with Betty.

  The event that he subconsciously expected, however, came from outside.There was a sudden clamor at the door, the flaps swung in sharply, andseveral men entered. Smithy, Judson's gangling young clerk, was the mostnoticeable member of the new group. He had a cut over his right eye, apuff on his cheek-bone that could have been made by nothing but a heavyfist, and when he spoke a crimson gap in his upper jaw betrayed theabsence of two teeth.

  "What's happened to you, Smithy?" demanded Colorado Brown, comingforward quickly. It would not be to the benefit of the house to have thegamblers disturbed at this moment. "Somebody punch you?"

  "I'll thay they did!" lisped Smithy. He was half sobbing, but he was madclear through.

  "They didn't improve your looks none," said Colorado.

  "Never mind muh lookth," said Smithy. "I want to know what you fellersthink of this?"

  "I just told you. Whoever done it didn't make you any handsomer,"interposed the proprietor of the hall. "Now, if you've had a fightoutside, don't bring it in here. We're plumb peaceable here to-night, weare."

  "Wait till you hear what the kid's got to say, Colorado," put in one ofthose that had entered with Smithy.

  "Spit it out!" advised the proprietor.

  "I want to know what Mr. Joe Hurley thinks of this?" Smithy managed tomake plain. "What do you think they are saying about Nell Blossom?"

  "Nell Blossom?"

  Hurley's voice did not join the general chorus which repeated thecabaret singer's name. But he looked up, his gaze met that of theparson, and a lightning glance of understanding passed between them.

  "What's eatin' on you, Smithy?" demanded Colorado Brown.

  "Up in Tolley'
s. I was just in there. I heard Tolley and Tom Hicks andsome others of his gang talkin'. I couldn't help hearin' what was said,and when I went for 'em this--this is what I got."

  He almost choked on the words. Joe Hurley rose up as though a slowspring uncoiled beneath him.

  "What did they say, Smithy?" he asked, and the tone of his voice seemedto quell all other sounds.

  "Why, the skunks!" cried Smithy, "they said Nell Blossom shot Dick theDevil last spring and flung him over the wall of the canyon into RunawayRiver."