CHAPTER VI--THE APPROACH
In fairylike traceries the tiny drops of a mist-like rain embroideredthe broad pane of the Pullman. Betty Hunt gazed through this at theflying fields and woods, the panorama of the railroad fences, and thestill nearer blur of telegraph poles with that hopeless feeling asentenced prisoner must have as he journeys toward the prison pen.
Everything she cared for save her brother, everything she knew and thatwas familiar to her daily life, every object of her thought andinterest, was being left behind by the onrush of the train. Time, with abig besom, was sweeping her quiet past into the discard--she felt it, sheknew it! They would never go back to Ditson Corners again, or to Amberlywhere they had lived as children with Aunt Prudence or to any similarsanctuary.
That was what Betty had most longed for since her last term at boardingschool, which had ended for her so abruptly with the death of her AuntPrudence Mason. Her last previous journey by train had been that somberone to the funeral. When Betty and her brother had later moved to theDitson Corners' parsonage they had done so by motor.
The drumming of the wheels over the rail-joints kept time with theswiftly flying thoughts of the girl. She lay in the corner of the broad,tan plush seat like a crumpled flower that had been carelessly flungthere. Thoughts of that last train journey seared her mind in hotflashes, as summer lightnings play about the horizon at dusk.
First one thing, then another, she glimpsed--mere jottings of thehappenings that had gone before the hurried good-byes at school and theanxious trip homeward. These remembrances now were like the projectionof a broken film upon the moving picture screen.
And those trying, anxious weeks which followed the funeral while Fordwas completing his divinity course and received his ordination and whichcame to an end with his selection as pastor of the First Church atDitson Corners! All through these weeks was the dull, miserable pain ofdisillusion and horror that Betty must keep to herself. She could nottell Ford. She could tell nobody. What had happened during the last fewweeks at school was a secret that must be buried--buried in her mind andheart as deeply as Aunt Prudence was buried under the flowering NewEngland sod.
Betty, with her secret, was like a hurt animal that hides away to die orrecover of its wound as nature may provide. She could not die. She knewthat, of course, from the first. Time, she felt, would never erase thescar upon her soul; but the wound itself must heal.
All that--that which was now such a horror in her thought--she had hopedto bury deeper as time passed. She had devoted herself to her brother'sneeds. She had made his comfort her constant care. Busy mind and busyhands were her salvation from the gnawing regret for that secrethappening that she believed must wither all her life.
Now this sudden and unlooked for change had come to shake up all herfragile plans like the shifting of a kaleidoscope. They were going West,toward the land she hated, toward people whom, she told herself, she hadevery reason to suspect and fear. Why had Ford kept up hiscorrespondence with that Joe Hurley? Betty did not blame her brother forwishing to get away from Ditson Corners. But why need it have been thatWesterner who offered the soul-sore minister the refuge that he sogladly accepted?
Betty, without a clear explanation, had no reason to oppose to Hunt'sdesire for a change that would satisfy him. And such explanation shewould have died rather than have given him! She was swept on toward theWest, toward whatever fate had in store for her, like a chip upon acurrent that could not be stemmed.
Aunt Prudence had left her money--conservatively invested--to Betty; butshe was not to touch the principal until she was thirty. "If the girlmarries before that age, no shiftless man can get it away from her," hadbeen the spinster's frank statement in her will. "If she is foolishenough to marry after that age, it is to be hoped she will then havesense at least regarding money matters." The brother had a small nestegg left from his father's estate after paying his college and divinityschool expenses.
So they were not wholly dependent upon Hunt's salary. He could afford totake a vacation, and it was on this ground--the need of rest--that he hadresigned from the pulpit of Ditson Corners' First Church. They had leftsome really good friends behind them in the little Berkshire town--somewho truly appreciated the young minister. But the clique against him hadshown its activity much too promptly to salve Hunt's pride. Hisresignation had been accepted without question, and he had remained onlyto see Bardell established in his place.
Betty condemned herself that she could not enter whole-heartedly intoHunt's high expectations of the new field that lay before him. It wasadventure--high adventure--to his mind. And why should a parson not longfor a bigger life and broader development as well as another healthyman?
He was going to Canyon Pass without a penny being guaranteed him. JoeHurley urged him to come; but he told him frankly that there would beopposition. Certain Passonians would not welcome a parson or theestablishment of religious worship.
But this opposition was that of the enemy. The Reverend Willett FordHunt was not afraid of the devil in an open fight. Opposition in thechurch itself was what had conquered him at Ditson Corners. Let thephalanxes of wickedness confront him at Canyon Pass, he would standagainst them!
Betty saw him coming back down the aisle of the car, smiling broadly, ahandsome, muscular figure of a man. He did not look the cleric. She hadbeen so used to seeing him in the black frock-coat and immaculate whitecollar that she was at first rather shocked when he had donned anothersuit to travel in.
He was almost boyish looking. He was a big man, and she believed himcapable of big things. She could almost wish he had selected some otherroad in life--although that thought was shocking to her, too. Ford mightwell have been a business man, an engineer, a banker, a promoter.Betty's ideas were somewhat vague about business life; but she felt sureFord would have shone in any line. She was a loyal sister.
She shook herself out of the fog of her own thoughts and smiled up athim.
"Met a man in the smoking room who knows that country about Canyon Passlike a book, Bet," Hunt said, dropping down beside her. "It really is apart of the last frontier. We shall always be a pioneer people, weAmericans. There is something in the raw places of the earth thatintrigues us all--save the saps. And sap, even, hardens in such anenvironment as this we are bound for."
"I hope you will not be disappointed, Ford."
"Disappointed? Of course I shall be disappointed and heart-sick andsoul-weary. But I believe my efforts will not be narrowed andcircumscribed and bound down by formalism and caste. As Joe says, Iwon't be 'throwed and hog-tied.' The old-time revivalists used to urgetheir converts to 'get liberty.' I'll get liberty out there, I feelsure, in Canyon Pass."
She could say nothing to dash his enthusiasm. It was too late for thatnow, in any case. Betty even tried to smile. But her face felt as stiffas though it were like to crack in the process.
"All that territory of which Canyon Pass is the heart," pursued Hunt,"has been phenomenally rich in ore in past time. They have to comb themines and sweep the hydraulic-washed benches very scientifically now tomake the game pay. Yet Canyon Pass is distinctly a mining town andalways must be.
"My new acquaintance says it is really 'wild and woolly.'" He smiledmore broadly. "I fancy it is all Joe said it is. Crude, rude,roughneck--but honest. If I can dig down to the honest heart of CanyonPass, Bet, I shall succeed. We'll not worry about first impressions, orthe lack of super-civilized conveniences, or the fact that men don'toften shave, and the women wear their hair untidily. Of course, I'llmake you as comfortable as possible----"
"I can stand whatever you can, Ford," she interrupted with briskconviction.
"Well," with a sigh of relief, "that's fine. Oh, Bet! This is the lifewe're going to. I am sure you will be happier when you once get a tasteof it."
But she made no reply.
* * * * *
When the two mountain-hogs, drawing and pushing the trans-continentaltrain up the grade, ground to a brief s
top at Crescent City, Betty Huntwas surprised to see brick office buildings, street cars, severaltaxi-cabs at the station, paved streets, and the business bustle of aWestern city which always impresses the stranger with the idea that theplace is commercially much more important than it actually is.
"This--this cannot be Canyon Pass?" she stammered to Hunt.
"No." He laughed. "But here's Joe Hurley--bless him! Joe!"
He shouted it heartily before dropping off the car step and turning tohelp Betty. But Joe Hurley strode across the platform and playfullyshouldered the minister aside.
"Your servant, Miss Betty!" the Westerner cried, sweeping off hisbroad-brimmed hat in a not ungraceful bow.
The girl from the East floated off the step into his arms. Joe set heras lightly as a thistle-down upon the platform and somehow found herfree hand.
"When Willie, here, told me you would come with him, Miss Betty, Ipromised the boys at the Great Hope a holiday when you arrived. Greatsaltpeter!" he added, stepping off to admire her from her rippling,bistered hair to her silk stockinged ankles. "You sure will make theboys sit up and take notice!"
Here Hunt, having relieved himself of the hand-bags, got hold ofHurley's hand and began pumping. The two young men looked into eachother's eyes over that handclasp. They had little to say, but much tofeel. Betty sighed as she looked on. Her last hope of quick escape fromthe West went with that sigh. The handclasp and the look were like anoath between the two young men to stand by each other.
"Well, old sobersides!" said Joe.
"Same old Joe, aren't you?" rejoined the minister.
"Come on. We'll get your bags into a taxi and go up to the hotel,"Hurley said briskly. "I got rooms for you. We can't go on to the Passtill eight o'clock to-morrow morning."
"Is there but one train a day, Mr. Hurley?" Betty asked as he helped herinto the cab.
"To Canyon Pass? Ain't ever been one yet," and he chuckled. "We go overwith Lizard Dan and the mail. Some day, when the roads are fixed up, wemay get motor service. Until then, a six-mule stagecoach has to serve."
"Oh!"
Hunt's eyes twinkled. "Break it to her gently, Joe," he advised. "Bet isprepared to be very much shocked, I know. This frontier life is going tobe an eye-opener for her."
"'Frontier life!'" snorted Hurley. "Why, we're plumb civilized. BillJudson has laid in a stock of near-silk hosiery and shirts with pleatedbosoms. Wait till you see some of the boys in holiday rig. Knock youreye out, when it comes to style."
Betty smiled. She did not mind being laughed at. Besides, the modernappearance of Crescent City had somewhat relieved her apprehension. Eventhe hotel was not bad. Their rooms were cheerful and clean, so she couldexcuse the brand-new, shiny oak furniture and the garish brass beds.
She did not dislike Joe Hurley--not really. It was only his influenceover Ford that she observed with a somewhat jealous eye. Although themining man seldom addressed her brother seriously, she realized that hewas fond of Ford. The latter was much the stronger character of thetwo--she was sure of that. He would never be overborne in any essentialthing by the lighter-minded Hurley. But Ford admired the latter so muchthat Betty felt her brother was likely to give heed to Hurley's advicein most matters connected with this new and strange environment to whichthey had come.
"Bet is scared of the West and of you Westerners," Hunt said lightly. "Idon't know but what she expected you to have sprouted horns since shesaw you before, Joe."
"Shucks!" chuckled the other. "We're mostly born with 'em out here, MissBetty. But they de-horn us before they let us run loose out o' thebranding pens. And remember, I spent two years in the effete East."
"It never touched you," and Hunt laughed. "You're just as wild andwoolly as ever."
The girl noted that Hurley was thoughtful of their every comfort. Heshowed them the best of the town that day; but in the evening theyrested at the hotel and talked. The two men conversed while they smokedin Hunt's room, with the door opened into Betty's. She heard the murmurof their voices as she sat by her darkened window and looked out intothe electrically lighted main street of Crescent City.
She was not at all thrilled by the novelty of the situation. She wasonly troubled.
* * * * *
Those strangers passing by! She saw a face in the throng but seldom asthe street lights flickered upon it. And always she was fearfullyexpectant of seeing--What? Whom? She shuddered.