CHAPTER XX
The Memorable Trip to Deadwood
It was a long, hard journey, and it was one o'clock in the morningbefore they reached Deadwood. Every public house that could get alicense to sell liquor announced itself as a "hotel." Those few thatcould not, made a virtue of their failure and flaunted a sign,"Temperance House." The "wet houses" were on the main gulch, the "dry"ones in off nooks, or perched on breezy hills. To the best of theselatter the doctor drove, had the luck to find the owner still on duty,and secured a room for himself. Then they drove to the home of Belle'saunt, Mrs. Collins. One has to take a hotel on its rules; but a relativemay be called up and inconvenienced at any time.
"Well, Auntie, it's Belle Boyd. I want you to take care of me till themorning. I will tell you all about it later," this to the inquiring headthat emerged from an upper window. So Belle was left and the doctor wentto his hotel.
Up very early next morning, Belle went at once to the stable of theTemperance House. Yes, there he was, Blazing Star, in all his beauty.Then she went into the hotel and mounted guard in the little parlour.Dr. Carson came down and was sent to sit out of doors. At length thesound of the foot she awaited came from the stairs and she heard thelandlady say:
"There's some one in the parlour waiting for you." For a moment therewas no sound; then the footsteps approached.
Belle was at the window looking out, partly hidden by the cheap lacecurtains. As the Preacher entered, she turned fully toward him. Her backwas to the light and he did not immediately perceive her. Then with agasp:
"Belle!" and, sinking into a chair, he covered his face with his hands.
She went to him, laid her hand on his shoulder, and stood there insilence. The great broad shoulders began to shake under that soft touch.There was no sound uttered for long, then, brokenly, his one refrain:"Oh, Belle!"
She sat down beside him, and took his hand--the first time she had everdone so--and waited in silence.
He wanted to tell her all, but found no words.
She said, "Never mind that now. Tell me what you are here for."
He tried again but in a wild, incoherent way. The sum of it all was thathe was "ruined, degraded, and lost. He would go down to the Big Cheyenneand get a job as a cowboy."
"Now listen, Jim," she said. "You have made a bad mistake; but a man maymake one big, bad mistake and still be all right. It is the man thatgoes on making a little mistake every day that is hopeless."
There was a long pause. Then she continued: "What is it you of allpeople admire most in a man? Is it not courage to see things through, nomatter how black they look?"
In his then frame of mind Hartigan had expected drunkenness to besingled out as the worst of all sins; there was a ray of comfort in thisother thought; he nodded and grunted an inarticulate assent.
"Jim, I don't doubt your courage. I know you too well, believe in youtoo much. I want you to drop the idea of the Big Cheyenne. Turn rightaround and go back to Cedar Mountain at once; and the sooner you getthere the easier it will be."
He shook his head, and sat as before, his face buried in his hands."I--cannot--do--it." He forced out the words.
"Jim Hartigan cannot--isn't brave enough?" she asked, her voice a littletremulous with sudden emotion.
In all his life, he had never been charged with cowardice. It stung. Ofall things he most despised cowardice, and here it was, brought squarelyhome to him. He writhed under the thought. There was a dead silence inthe little parlour.
Then Belle spoke: "Is this the only answer I am to have--after coming sofar?" she asked in a low voice.
Oh, blind, stupid, cowardly fool that he was! He had not thought ofthat. How much was she braving for him! He was rated a man of courageamong his friends, yet now he was yielding to miserable cowardice.
Then his impulsive nature responded. He blurted out: "Belle, I will doanything for you; I will do anything you tell me to." It was anunconditional surrender, and the wise victor gave the honours of war tothe vanquished by changing the subject.
"Then come to breakfast," she said in a lighter tone and led him to AuntCollins's house, whither the doctor had already gone.
A day's rest, a forty-mile ride in the wind, a change of scene, goodfriends, a buoyant disposition, a flush of youth, and Belle, absorbed inall he did and said--who would not respond to such a concentration ofuplifting forces?
Hartigan's exuberance returned. His colour was back in his cheeks. Hiseyes sparkled and his wit sparkled, too. He won the heart of Mrs.Collins. She said he was "the beautifullest man she had ever seen." EvenJohn Collins, a plough- and wagon-dealer by trade, was impressed withthe mental gifts and manly appearance of the young preacher, and Belleknew that the thing she had set out for was won.
Instead of discussing plans she announced them as if they were settled.The doctor wished to stay a day or two in Deadwood, but that did notsuit Belle at all. She was quite clear about it. Her aunt must driveback with her at once. The doctor and the Preacher must come, too, butarrive a little later in Cedar Mountain. So they boarded theirbuckboards, waved good-bye, and set their faces to the south.
The sun shone as it knows how in Dakota. The great pine-clad hills werepurple in the lovely morning haze as the little party left Deadwood thatday on the buffalo trail for Cedar Mountain. The doctor drove first inhis buckboard, not without misgivings, for the good horse had had littlerest since that forty-five mile drive. Next came the horseman on thegold-red horse that men turned to look after. Last, the prairiebuckboard of the house of Collins with Aunt Anna driving and Belle ather side.
The prairie larks sang from low perches or soared a little way in theair to tell the world how glad they were on that bright summer morning.The splendour of the hills was on all things, and Jim on Blazing Starwas filled with the glad tonic. For five miles they ambled along, andwhen the doctor stopped at a watering place--he had been told to stopthere--the others caught up with him. Hereupon there was a readjustment,and their next going found the Collins rig leading with Blazing Starbehind, and Belle with Hartigan in the second buckboard.
That was a drive of much consequence to two of the party. In that secondbuckboard the fates laid plans, spun yarns, and rearranged many things.Hartigan opened his heart and life. He told of his mother, of his happychildhood; of his losses; of his flat, stale, unprofitable boyhood; ofBill Kenna and his "word as a man"; of his own vow of abstinence, keptunbroken till he was eighteen. He gave it all with the joyous side alonein view, and when a pathetic incident intruded, the pathos was in thethings, not in the words of the narrator. The man had a power ofexpression that would have made a great journalist. His talk was onecontinuous entertainment, and lasted unbroken to the half-way house,where they were to stay an hour for rest and food.
How sweet it is to tell one's history to a woman who takes in every wordas of large importance! How pleasant it is to confess to a keen andsympathetic hearer. The twenty-five miles passed far too soon. It wasshort, but long enough for large foundations to be laid.
Belle was only twenty-two, but hers was a wise head. Hartigan had spokenfreely about himself and thus had conferred in some large sort a rightto advise. She had deliberately constructed a new mood for his thoughts,so that the horrors of the Bylow cabin were forgotten. The questions nowfor him and for her were, how to set him right with the church, and howbegin all over again. Hartigan's idea was to go openly before the wholecongregation with a humble apology, and publicly promise to abstain fromdrink forever. Belle vetoed this emphatically.
"Never rub your head in the mud," she said. "You make your peace withGod first, then with Dr. Jebb, and the deacons. Pay no attention to anyone else. There will be some talk for a while, but it will die away.
"You don't know the Black Hills as I do, Jim. People out here don't takethings quite so seriously as eastern folk. Many a western preachercarries a flask of brandy as snakebite antidote or chill cure. Not longago I heard of a minister up north who was held for horse-stealing. Yes,more than once. And how
he explained it, I don't know: but he ispreaching yet. I don't mean to make light of these things, Jim, but Iwant to keep you from a kind of reparation which will be more of a shockto the people than what they now know. We must have some sense ofproportion. Since there was no public scandal, you will find that thewhole matter will be overlooked."
Belle was right; he knew she was; and later events proved it.
Most men propose when they find "the one woman"; but some don't. Manymarriages take place without any formal proposal. The man and the womancome together and discover such sympathy, such need of each other, thatthey assume much that remains unspoken. Nothing was said of love ormarriage on that journey from Deadwood, but James Hartigan and BelleBoyd were conscious of a bond that happily and finally became complete.Thenceforth he made no move without consulting her; thenceforth she hadno plans in which he was not more than half.
They were ten miles from Cedar Mountain when the last change was made.Those who noted their arrival some while later saw Belle ride up theMain Street with her aunt, and tie up at her father's door. Twentyminutes later Hartigan rode beside the doctor's rig to his home, at theother side of the town.
The Preacher of Cedar Mountain: A Tale of the Open Country Page 21