Hurley brought back with him two shovels instead of one, and the pick.
The two young men took a roundabout way to the ford so that Boss Tolley
might not spy them and suspect where they were going.
They did not talk much. Both were thinking too deeply--were much too
disturbed by the uprearing of this tragic thing--for idle chatter. Hunt
wondered how his friend really thought of Nell Blossom. For his own part
he was heavily depressed by this thing that had come to light.
The situation threatened serious consequences for the cabaret singer. In
a more law-abiding community the coroner's office would have summoned
Nell Blossom for examination if the district attorney did not. And in
any case, Hunt believed, the whole miserable business must come at last
to the light of day.
It was past noon when Hunt and his friend arrived at that heap of dirt
and débris that had before attracted their attention. But neither of
them thought of the hour or of the midday meal.
Hunt, dismounting, allowed the reins to trail upon the ground before his
horse's nose as he saw Hurley did with Bouncer. Both animals were well
trained. He removed coat, vest, and Tom Hicks' broad-brimmed hat which
he still affected. Rolling up his sleeves he seized the pick and went at
the task with the skill as well as the strength of a trained
ditch-digger. Hurley admired the parson's ability thus displayed.
"Some boy, you, Willie. I'll tell the world you know something besides
pounding the pulpit. Where's that shovel?"
They uncovered the dead animal and threw it into the swift, deep current
of the Runaway.
They did not cease digging, however, until every square yard of the
fallen soil and rubble from the top of the cliff had been combed over.
They covered one section with the upturned windrow of another. Nothing
which had fallen with that fatal landslide remained unseen. But what
they had feared to find was not in evidence.
"Either Tolley's guess was right, or Dick Beckworth never came down that
wall with his horse," Hurley said with finality.
Hunt nodded, finally leaning on his spade. "At least, we have satisfied
our own minds," he said. "That is something."
"And mighty little. Dick isn't here. I bet a thousand he didn't go to
Hoskins with Nell. He wouldn't have walked in any case. Then, where the
devil is he?"
"That is not the main question," rejoined the parson thoughtfully. "The
principal thing is to get at the truth about this accident. What
happened up there at the top of the cliff? Did the man come down with
the horse and these several tons of gravel and soil? And if he came
down, what became of his body?"
"Great saltpeter!" Hurley brought out his uncouth ejaculation with a new
emphasis. "Do you suppose Tolley, after all, knows more about that than
Nell does?"
"What?" Then Hunt understood. "It might be," he said slowly. "Evidently
Tolley was not pleased by that gambler's leaving him, any more than he
was pleased by Miss Blossom's leaving him. It might be----"
"It might be," finished Hurley with vigor, "that Boss Tolley is dragging
a skunk after him to fool the hounds."
Hunt admitted the truth of this rather homely expression. "All the more
reason why the girl must be questioned," he said.
"You're crazy, Willie!" cried Hurley. "You will get nothing out of
Nell--if she doesn't want to talk. And if she knows anything at all about
this, and is at all connected with the matter of Dick's disappearance,
you can just bet she's got good reason for keeping her lips closed."
"For her own sake, she should confide in us--in you, at least. She will
need our help and our support if this comes out."
"She's got mine, whether or no," Hurley said, slinging on his belt and
gun again.
Perhaps Hunt thought he spoke significantly as he hitched the weapon
into place. He wagged a disagreeing head.
"That sort of support will not save Nell Blossom's soul," he observed
thoughtfully. "To blow off Tolley's head will not help her one iota in
cleansing her mind and heart of anguish if she has guilty knowledge of
that man's death--if he is dead."
"I tell you that Dick the Devil was well named," cried Hurley furiously.
"Why some man before this had not beaten him to death is a mystery. If
Nell shot him off the edge of that cliff, he got what was coming to him,
and no more."
"Oh!" murmured Hunt, with a shudder. "It might not be that she has such
a terrible sin as that on her conscience!"
"I don't give a hang," returned his friend. "If she had, there ain't
twelve men in Canyon County that would convict her of it. Don't tell
me!"
"Oh, Joe! You don't see. You don't understand," urged his friend sadly.
"What matters man's conviction of her crime? It is of what her own heart
may convict her."
"'Twouldn't bother me none if I'd sent Dick the Devil over that cliff,"
declared Hurley. "But I leave it to you, parson. You maybe know more
about such things than I do. To tell the truth, you do. Otherwise I
wouldn't have had any hopes of your doing any good in Canyon Pass. Maybe
you know more about womankind than I do, as well," he added, a bitter
smile wreathing his lips once more. "I wish you all the luck in the
world when you tackle Nell Blossom on this topic. But I wouldn't be in
your shoes for half my stock in the Great Hope."
Anxious as he was made by the outbreak of this affair the Reverend
Willett Ford Hunt did not forget the work that he earnestly hoped to
begin in Canyon Pass. Nor did he delay in laying plans for the efforts
he hoped would aid in changing the moral tone of the town.
It was that evening in the Three Star Grocery where he went with Joe
Hurley that the first tentative plan was discussed. Jib Collins, who
seemed to have been much impressed by the young minister on Sunday
afternoon, was there, as well as the old storekeeper himself. With them
several of the more sober citizens joined in conversation.
Hunt struck while the iron was hot. The first thing, he thought, was to
find some place in which services could be held on Sunday. He had seen
at least one empty store, or warehouse, he told them, which might be
cleaned out and put into fairly decent shape. He had looked into the
windows. There was a dingy sign on the front which said it was for sale.
"Dad burn it, parson!" exclaimed Judson, "you must mean that old place
of Tolley's."
"Tolley?" repeated Hunt with disappointment. "Does it belong to that
man?"
"Sure does," said Jib Collins.
"It used to be where Tolley had his honkytonk before he built his bigger
place. He owns it, of course," Hurley remarked.
"Then I presume we could scarcely count on getting it," said Hunt with
reflection. "Tolley is vigorously opposed, I understand, to this thing
we wish to do."
"Hold on," put in the storekeeper. "Let's study on it. In the first
place, you all keep it under your hats, and maybe I can do something
with Tolley."
"You'll do a fat lot with him," prophesied Collins.
"Mebbe so. We'll see. How 'bout that 'wisdom of sarpints' the Good Book
speaks of, parson?" said the storekeeper. "You lemme try to fix it with
Tolley. That's all."
"Oh, we'll leave it to you, old-timer," Hurley said laughingly. "Nobody
will begrudge you that job."
"If we get that place--or some other--we must have seats," Hunt went on.
"There are many things to think of--and many things to get together
before next Sunday. A week is none too long to prepare for such a work."
"And a pulpit," Collins proposed. "Me and Cale could knock up a
pulpit--of a kind. We are some carpenters--me and Cale. If I can get him
to help."
Hunt was perfectly willing to put such burdens as he might upon the
friendly citizens of Canyon Pass. In fact, that is just what he wanted
them to do--take hold of the new idea as though they really supported it.
The discussion, although of generalities, brought forth some concrete
results.
Judson knew that Tolley was anxious to do something with the old shack.
Judson intimated that he expected to need more room for goods. He did
not say exactly when he would need it; but he got Tolley down to an
agreement, and they made a bargain. The storekeeper paid a nominal rent
for the shack six months in advance, agreeing to make such repairs as
the place might need himself.
The business was kept secret, although Collins and Cale Mack went to
work on their part of the job the very next day. Others collected seats
and a few other furnishings. Everything was of the plainest; even the
pulpit was built of unpainted boards. But Hunt saw that the place was
clean.
Judson furnished lamps from his stock. "We'll want evening meetings,
too," he said. "After we get to going, I mean. It won't be a bad idea to
commence running a show that will compete with the Grub Stake and
Colorado Brown's and those other joints. The boys drop into the saloons
because there ain't another derned place in the town to go to after
dark."
On Wednesday Hunt, walking toward the mines, confronted unexpectedly the
withered, baldheaded man he had carried home over his shoulder on Sunday
morning. Sam Tubbs stopped him.
"I reckon you're the parson, ain't you?" he asked, cocking his head in a
birdlike way to look up at Hunt. "My old woman is right smart anxious to
see you again. That woman's all for this here religion they say you are
going to deal out to the boys. Says she's got something for you."
"Thank you, Mr. Tubbs. I will go around and call on her."
"Well, you can if you like. Miz Tubbs is pretty nigh big enough to be
her own boss, and what I say don't affect her no more than as though I
shot my mouth off in the middle of Topaz Desert. That's a fact. I hear
you are a pretty decent feller, as parsons go; but I might as well tell
you right now that I ain't--and don't ever mean to be--a convert."
"I shall like you none the less for that, Mr. Tubbs," said Hunt, smiling
and offering his hand. "A man must always decide for himself, you know.
I shall be glad to have you come to hear me preach; but you need not
believe a word I say unless your own mind tells you I am right."
"Huh!" grunted Sam, rather staggered. "That sounds fair. Mebbe I will
come to hear you--sometime. If you last long enough."
This opinion--that the parson would not last in his attempt to uplift
Canyon Pass--seemed to be the view of the general run of Passonians.
He had a few very enthusiastic coworkers, however. He found one when he
went to call upon Mother Tubbs.
"It's been in my heart for many a long day, Brother Hunt," the old woman
said. "This here holding meetings, and the like. I said a long time back
I'd give a pretty if a man of God would come in here and shake this camp
like a snowslide in the mountains. We need to get a mighty bump.
Youbetcha!
"Now the time's come, I'm just as excited as a gal going to her first
dance. I can't make Sam enthuse none; and I'm disappointed in Nell, I do
say. But I am going to do all I can myself to boost your job for you."
"Thank you, Sister Tubbs," said the young parson. "Is Miss Blossom
here?"
"She's upstairs a-dressin'. But I don't reckon she'll give you much but
the rough side of her tongue. Lately, Nell seems to be bewitched. Think
of her ridin' her pony up and down the street the other day, shootin'
and cavortin' like a drunken cow-puncher! She puts on these didoes jest
for devilment. And she ain't got a good word for you and your plans,
Brother Hunt."
"Well," said the parson calmly, "perhaps things will change with her in
time. We won't worry."
"I'm glad you can take it so calm," said Mother Tubbs, sniffing. "Now,
come in yere. This is what I got for you."
She led the way into the inner room, half bedroom and half sitting room,
the principal room in the shack. There was a small center table. On it
was a huge tome with tarnished brass clasps--a bulky volume that had
evidently seen much rough usage. Mother Tubbs put her hand upon it
proudly.
"See that, Brother Hunt?" she said. "It's the old Bible out of the Blue
Lick Chapel down in Arkansas. The chapel burned down when I was a gal;
but the Bible was saved. When my folks moved out thisaway we brung it
with us, and it's been in the bottom of an old trunk of mine for forty
year. Now it comes to light." She opened it with care. "I reckon you got
all the Bibles you need to work with. But I do like to see a big one
like this on the pulpit for show."
"This is most thoughtful and kind of you, Sister Tubbs," declared Hunt,
understanding the spirit of pride and reverence in which the old woman
had offered the book. "I shall see that it rests on our pulpit."
At that moment Nell Blossom came into the room from the stairway. She
nodded to him bruskly, but offered him no welcoming hand.
"I declare, Nell," complained the old woman, "you ain't going out
without a word to the parson, are you?"
"I've no particular word for the parson," returned the girl, a glint of
ice in her blue eyes.
"If you will allow me to say so, Miss Blossom," said Hunt quietly, "I
have a particular word for you."
She stared at him angrily. He picked up his hat from the chair.
"If you are going out," he said, "I will walk along with you and say
what I have to say."
"Humph! I can't stop you from walking up Mulligan Lane. It's free,"
returned the girl most ungraciously and walked ahead of him out of the
house.