The Heart of Canyon Pass

by Thomas K. Holmes

  CHAPTER XXVII--SEVERAL CONCLUSIONS

  Nell Blossom had not gone back to sing at Colorado Brown's place. It wassome time before Hunt found this out, and he wondered why she had brokenher agreement with Colorado, for he knew she had entirely recovered fromthe effects of her adventure in the storm.

  Had the parson asked his sister, Betty might have illuminated his mindnot a little regarding this and other mysteries about Nell; but he waschary of ever speaking of the singer in other than a general way beforeBetty.

  To tell the truth, he shrank from any argument regarding the Blossom ofCanyon Pass. He had learned just how sweet and innocent Nell Blossomwas. But he did not know how far Betty might approve of the youngergirl, especially if he showed any personal interest in the latter.

  He was firm in his conviction that Nell Blossom was a being set apart ashis mate from the beginning! Strange as it might seem at first view,Hunt was positive that he and the half-tamed mining-camp girl held muchin common. He had found opportunity to talk with her of late--both atMother Tubbs' and elsewhere--and he knew her tastes and aspirations farbetter than before. She had confided to him, although with muchtimidity, some of her girlish desires and her conclusions upon topicswhich she had thought seriously about.

  She was, too, of the very stuff these Canyon Pass people were made--oneof themselves. If he got Nell Blossom for a wife she would be of greateraid to him in his work here than any other one person possibly could be.With Nell Blossom for his very own, the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt wouldindeed have won the Heart of Canyon Pass.

  Hunt kept all this a secret and said little to Betty about the cabaretsinger. Nothing indeed that gave her a chance to tell him that her eyeshad seen already most of what he thought was hidden from her, and seenit in a single glance.

  As her brother sat beside the bed the day of the ice-storm and held NellBlossom's hand, Betty saw how it was with the Reverend Willett FordHunt. The only matter that puzzled her at all was Nell's possibleattitude. Unsophisticated as the mining-camp girl was, Betty could notknow for sure what Nell's feeling for the parson was.

  But Betty might have given Hunt a pretty correct explanation of why Nelldid not go back to sing at Colorado Brown's place. The girls weretogether almost every day after their adventure in the storm.

  Betty did not go to Mother Tubbs'. She scarcely left the hotel at all inthe day time, though going out on the first Sunday following theirperilous adventure to attend church service.

  But Nell came to the Wild Rose, and the two girls grew to know eachother better than before. This because they both wished a closerunderstanding. Nell had begun to admire something about Betty Huntbesides her frocks and the way she manicured her nails. The parson'ssister now desired to know Nell better for the parson's sake.

  "I'm sick to death, Betty, singing for those roughnecks," Nell had burstforth on one occasion. "I used to think it was great to have 'em cheerme and clap me off and have 'em throw money at me. But I'm plumb sick ofit."

  "It's a great gift to be able to move people with one's voice so."

  "It ain't nothing of the kind!" Nell declared vehemently. "It's becausethey ain't got no brains--at least, what they've got are addled withhootch. I've only got just a nice, sweet, singing voice. Them fellersare so plumb ignorant that they hoot and holler for me because I please'em. I'd love to be really able to sing!"

  "I am not so sure that you cannot sing, as you mean it," was Betty'ssympathetic rejoinder. "Merely, you do not sing worth-whilesongs--altogether."

  "I'm mighty ashamed about singing that 'This Is No Place for aMinister's Son,'" burst out Nell suddenly.

  "Why, I think it's funny," and Betty laughed. "I've often heard Fordhumming it."

  "Oh! I--I sang it at him, Betty. I did!"

  "I am quite sure it never disturbed Ford in the least."

  "Well, no, I reckon not. Nothing a girl like me done----"

  "Did!"

  "_Did_--could bother a man like Parson Hunt."

  "I am not so sure of that," Betty rejoined, eyeing the other girlkeenly.

  But Nell Blossom, if she had a secret, hid it successfully. Betty didnot miss the opportunity, however, of trying to help her friend.

  "Suppose you learn some better songs--some really worth-while pieces? Ibrought my music with me, although I do not know if I shall ever touch apiano again." She sighed. "But I sometimes sit and hum over myfavorites. You read music of course, Nell?"

  "I don't know a note--to speak the name of it, I mean," confessed thesinger. "But I never saw the piece yet that I couldn't pick up prettyeasy. Rosabell Pickett says I'm a natural sight-reader with a great earfor harmony."

  She accepted with gratitude the selections Betty made from her library.Betty had chosen the songs with some little guile. That fact was provedby what occurred later.

  "Anyway," Nell concluded, "I ain't going back to Colorado's place for awhile. I got some money, and Sam's bringing his pay home to Mother Tubbspretty reg'lar now. I can live for a while without singing for thoseroughnecks, that's a sure thing!"

  But Betty had her own grave thoughts--thoughts that kept her awake atnight. Hollow eyes and certain twitching lines about her sensitive mouthwere the result of these secret cogitations. Hunt noticed his sister'schanged appearance but he misunderstood its source. He feared that Bettyfound the life at Canyon Pass, with winter coming on, too hard to bear.Yet he saw that she always cheered up when Joe Hurley ran in to seethem.

  The Eastern girl's trouble did not arise from the locality in which shewas forced to live; it was the presence of one person in the town thatcaused her such serious thoughts. The man who had passed Nell Blossomand her in the storm, whose unexpected appearance had made Nell faint,had shocked Betty much more deeply than he did the singer!

  Without that heavy mustache, with his waving hair cut more to conform toEastern ideas of propriety, the girl visualized the fellow as she hadonce known Andy Wilkenson. He was the man, thought of whom had soworried Betty's mind for these long months since she had leftGrandhampton Hall. Andy Wilkenson! The man she had hoped never to see orhear from again. Her worst fears on coming West were now realized. Andhis reappearance here at Canyon Pass warned Betty that she could neverallow Joe Hurley to see just how much she had learned to care for him.

  She went to church on that next Sunday morning in fear and trembling.She sat well forward as usual. But she knew when "Dick Beckworth" camein and sat down in one of the rear seats.

  His coming here surprised them all. Heads were turned, and there waswhispering. Dick was dressed in the same flashy way, for he had left atrunk at the Grub Stake when he went away in the spring. He sat duringthe sermon with a sneer on his handsome face and the dancing light ofthe demon flickering in his hard eyes. Hunt usually met strangers afterthe meeting with a cordial handclasp. He did not approach DickBeckworth.

  Betty drew a veil across her face before she arose for the benediction.She waited to return to the hotel with her brother.

  She was the only person in the assembly who was not amused by theappearance of the two old prospectors, Siebert and McCann, at theservice. They did not come in together; and when Andy McCann entered tosee Steve seated at one side, he chose a seat just as far from the otherold-timer as he could and on the other side of the house. Their scowlsturned on each other were more significant than words.

  Hunt did not let Steve and Andy get away without a personal word withthem.

  "I am very glad to welcome you among us, Mr. McCann," he said to thatindividual when he shook the pocket-hunter's wrinkled claw.

  "Wal, it's all right, I reckon," muttered Andy. "In a meetin' you've gotto stand for most anybody droppin' in. But that old rip," nodding towardthe distant Steve, "would look a heap better 'cordin' to my idee in jailthan at church."

  "We must be charitable, Mr. McCann," said the parson, moving toward theother prospector.

  Old Steve was quite as bitter in his comment. But he added something,too, that gave Hunt pause.

  "It seems a go
od deal like old times. I used to go to church reg'lar,onc't," said Siebert. "But I miss something, parson--I sure do."

  "What's that?" asked Hunt smiling.

  "Let alone I never expected to see that old has-been at meetin'--an' Idon't reckon he's come for any good--I see you don't look jest like apreacher ought to look. Say, don't ministers dress different no morefrom other folks? You might be a banker or a gambler as far as your coatgoes to show."

  The blunt criticism shocked Hunt not a little. Up to this time he hadcarefully eschewed clerical dress. He began to wonder if, after all, hewas not making a mistake.

  Dick Beckworth was not on the street when the parson and his sister wentback to the hotel. In fact Dick had slipped out very soon after themeeting ceased and was then in conference with Boss Tolley in the littleoffice at the end of the long bar in the Grub Stake.

  "Well," said Tolley, eagerly, "did you see her?"

  "Sure as sure."

  "Is it her?" demanded the dive keeper, grinning like a wolf.

  "It sure is. It's her that was Betty Hunt."

  "Dad burn it! And she paradin' 'round here like an unmarried woman.Dick, we got that parson on the hip."