CHAPTER X
WHOM GOD HATH JOINED
The next day the puzzled cowman rode the trail to Yavapai to find thatAnn was out. He was told that Nora had taken her riding, so he waitedfor their return, restless, finding no solace in the companionship thatthe saloon, the town's one gathering place for men, afforded.
He stood leaning against the front of the general store, deep inthought, when a distant rattle attracted his attention. He glanced downthe street to his right and beyond the limits of the town saw a rapidlymoving dust cloud approach. As it drew near, the rattling increased,became more distinct, gave evidence that it was a combination of manysounds, and Bayard smiled broadly, stirring himself in anticipation.
A moment more and the dust cloud dissolved itself into a speeding mantlefor a team of ponies and a buckboard, on the seat of which sat the Rev.Judson A. Weyl. The horses came down the hard street, ears back,straining away from one another until they ran far outside the wheeltracks. The harnesses, too large for the beasts, dangled and flopped andjingled, the clatter and clank of the vehicle's progress becamemanifold as every bolt, every brace, every bar and slat and spokevibrated, seeming to shake in protest at that which held it to the rest,and, above it all, came the regular grating slap of the tire of a dishedhindwheel, as in the course of its revolutions it met the metal brakeshoe, as if to beat time for the ensemble.
The man on the seat sat very still, the reins lax in his hands. Thespring under him sagged with his weight and his long legs were doubledoddly between the seat and broken dash. He appeared to give no heed tohis team's progress; just sat and thought while they raced along, theoff horse breaking into a gallop at intervals to keep pace with its longstepping mate.
Across from where Bayard stood, the team swung sharply to the right,shot under a pinyon tree, just grazing the trunk with both hubs of thewheels, and rounded the corner of a low little house, stopping abruptlywhen out of sight; and the rancher laughed aloud in the sudden silencethat followed.
He went across the thoroughfare, followed the tracks of the buckboardand came upon the tall, thin, dust covered driver, who had descended,unfastened the tugs and was turning his wild-eyed, malevolent-nosed teamof half broken horses into a corral which was shaded by a tall pinetree. He looked up as Bayard approached.
"Hel-_lo_, Bruce!" he cried, flinging the harness up on a post, andextending a hearty hand. "I haven't seen you in an age!"
"How are you, Parson?" the other responded, gripping the offered handand smiling good-naturedly into the alert gaze from the black eyes. "Iain't saw you for a long time, either, but every now and then, when I'mridin' along after my old cows, I hear a most awful noise comin' frommiles away, an' I say to myself, 'There goes th' parson tryin' to beatth' devil to another soul!'"
The other laughed and cast a half shameful look at his buckboard, whichBayard was inspecting critically. It was held together with rope andwire; bolts hung loosely in their sockets; not a tight spoke remained inthe wheels; the pole was warped and cracked and the hair stuffing of theseat cushion was held there only by its tendency to mat and becomecompact, for the cover was three-quarters gone.
"It's deplorable, ain't it," Bayard chuckled, "how th' Lord outfits hisservants in this here country?"
The clergyman laughed.
"That's a chariot of fire, Bruce!" he cried. "Don't you understand?"
"It'd be on fire, if I had it, all right! It ain't fit for nothin' else.Why, Parson, I should think th' devil'd get you sure some of thesenights when you're riskin' your neck in this here contraption an'trustin' to your Employer to restrainin' th' wickedness in that pair ofunlovely males you call horses!"
"Well, maybe I should get a new rig," the other admitted, stilllaughing. "But somehow, I'm so busy looking after His strays in thiscountry that I don't get time to think about my own comfort. Maybethat's the best way. If I took time to worry about material discomforts,I suppose I'd feel dirty and worn and hot now, for I've had a long, longdrive."
"A drink'd do you a lot of good, Parson," said Bruce, with a twinkle inhis eye. "I don't mind drinkin' with you, even if you are a preacher."
"And _because_ I'm a member of the clergy I have to drink with youwhether I like it or not, Bruce!"--with a crack of his big hand onBayard's shoulder. "A bottle of pop would taste fine about now, son!"
"Well, you wait here an' I'll get that brand of sham liquor," saidBruce, turning to start for the saloon.
"Hold on, Bruce. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't feelthat I want to let you buy anything for me out of that place. Get mesome at the drug store."
The younger man hesitated.
"Well, I got a few convictions myself, Parson. Maybe there ain't much tobe said for s'loon men, but your friend who runs that pill foundry sellsbooze to Indians, I suspect, which ain't right an' which noself-respectin' s'loon man would do."
"Son, all life is a compromise," laughed Weyl. "You go buy what you liketo drink; I'll buy mine. How's that?"
"That's about as fair as a proposition can be, I guess."
Ten minutes later they were seated in the shade of the pine tree, backsagainst the corral where the sweat-crusted horses munched alfalfa.Bayard drank from a foaming bottle of beer, Weyl from a pop container.Both had removed their hats, and their physical comfort approached theabsolute.
The cowman, though, was not wholly at ease. He listened attentively tothe rector's discourse on the condition of his parish, but all the whilehe seemed to be bothered by some idea that lurked deep in his mind.During a pause, in which the brown pop gurgled its way through Weyl'sthin lips, Bruce squinted through the beer that remained in his bottleand said,
"Somethin's been botherin' me th' last day or so, Parson, an' I sure wasglad when I seen you comin' up in this here ... chariot of fire."
"What is it, Bruce?"
"Well, here's th' case. If a jasper comes to you an' tells you somethin'in confidence, are you bound to keep your mouth shut even if somebody'slikely to get hurt by this here first party's plan? I know your outfitdon't have no confession--'tain't confession I want.... It's advice ...what'd you do if you was in that fix?"
The other straightened his long limbs and smiled gravely.
"I can tell you what I would do, Bruce; but, if it's a matter ofconsequence, I can't advise you what to do.
"That's one of the hardest things I have to meet--honest men, such asyou, coming to me with honest questions. I'm only a man like you are; Ihave the same problems, the same perplexities; it's necessary for me tomeet them in the way you do. Because I button my collar behind is of nosignificance. Because I'm trying to help men to know their own soulsgives me no superiority over them. That's as far as I can go--helpingmen to know themselves. Once that is accomplished, I can't guide theiractions or influence their decisions. So far as I can determine, that'sall God wants of us. He wants us to see ourselves in the light of truth;then, be honest with ourselves.
"In your particular matter, I couldn't stand by and see a man walk intodanger unaware and yet it would mean a lot for me to betray anotherman's confidence. I suppose I'd do as I do in so many matters, and thatis to compromise. I would consider it my duty to keep a confidence, ifit was made in the spirit of honesty and, just as surely, it is my dutyto save men from harm. My word of honor means much ... yes. But mybrother's safety, if I am his keeper, is of as much consequence, surely.If I couldn't compromise--if taking a middle course wouldn't bepractical--then I think I would choose the cause which I considered mostjust and throw all my influence and energy into it.
"That's what I would do, my friend. Perhaps, it is not what you woulddo, but so long as you are honest in your perplexity then, basically,whatever action you decide on, must be right."
Bayard drank again, slowly.
"I've never been inside your church," he said at length. "I'm like a lotof men. I don't care much about churches. Do you preach like that onSunday?"--turning his face to Weyl.
The other laughed heartily.
"I don't p
reach, Bruce! I just talk and try to think out loud and makemy people think. Yes ... I try to be before my people just as I ambefore you, or any other friend."
"Some day, then, I'm likely to come along and ask to throw in with youroutfit ... your church. I'll bet that after I've let a little more hellout of my system, I could get to be a top deacon in no time ... in yourchurch!"
The clergyman smiled and rested his hand affectionately on Bayard'sknee.
"We're always glad to have stoppers come along," he replied. "Every nowand then one drops in to see what we're like. Some have stayed and goneto work with us and turned out to be good hands."
Bruce made no response and the other was not the sort to urge. So theysat a time in companionable silence until the younger man asked,
"Had you come far to-day?"
"Wolf Basin. I went over there yesterday and married old Tom Nelson'sgirl to a newcomer over there."
Bayard looked at him keenly. He had wanted to bring up anotherquestion, but had been unable to decide upon a device for themanipulation of the conversation. This was a fortunate opening.
"Did you hear the yarn they was tellin' 'bout old Newt Hagadorn, whenthey 'lected him justice of th' peace in Bumble Bee? At his firstweddin' Newt got tangled up in his rope an' says,
"'Who me 'nd God has j'ined together let no man put apart!'"
Weyl threw back his head and laughed heartily. Bruce shook with mirthbut watched his friend's face, and, when the clergyman had soberedagain, he asked,
"How about this who-God-hath-joined-together idea anyhow, Parson? Doesit always work out?"
"Not always, Bruce,"--with a shake of his head--"You should know that."
"Well, when it don't, what've you parsons got to say about it? You'vehogtied 'em in th' name of all that's holy; what if it don't turn outright? They're married in th' name of God, ain't they?"
Weyl drained the last of his pop and tossed the bottle away.
"I used to think they were ... they all were, Bruce. That was when I wasas young in years, as I try to be young in heart now. But the morecouples I marry, the stronger is my conviction that God isn't a party toall those transactions, not by a long sight!
"If my bishop were to hear me say that, he'd have me up for a lecture,because he is bothered with a lot of traditions and precedent, but manymen are calling on Him to bless the unions of young men and women whenHe only refuses to answer. Men don't know; somehow they can't see thatGod turns his face from marriage at times; they keep on thinking thatall that is necessary is to have some ordained minister warn society tokeep hands off, that it is the Father's business ... when it is not,when love, when God, isn't there."
"How are young goin' to tell when He's missin' from those present?"
Weyl shrugged his shoulders.
"The individuals, the parties concerned, are the only ones who knowthat."
"When they do know, when they don't give up even then? What are yougoin' to do 'bout that?"
The other man shook his head sadly.
"There are many things that you and I--that society--must do, Bruce, myson. It's up to us to change our attitude, to change our way of lookingat human relations, to pull off the bandages that are blinding our eyesand see the true God. Other things besides marriage demand that unerringsight, too....'
"But what I'm gettin' at," broke in the other, pulling him back to thequestion of matrimony, "is, what are you goin' to do, when you know Godain't ridin' with a couple, when it's a sin for 'em to be together, butwhen th' man holds to his wife like I'd hold to a cow with my brand onher, an' when th' woman--maybe--hangs to him 'cause she thinks th' Lord_has_ had somethin' to do with it."
"In that case, if she thinks of the Father's connection as an affair ofthe past, she must know it is no longer holy; someone should open hereyes, someone who is unselfish, who has a perspective, who is willing tobe patient and help her, to suffer with her, if need be."
"You wouldn't recommend that a party who sort of hankered to wring th'husband's neck an' who thought the wife was 'bout th' finest thing Godever put breath into, start out to tackle th' job, would you?"
Weyl rubbed his chin in thoughtful consideration; then replied slowly:
"No, it is our duty to give the blind sight; we can only do that byknowing that our motives are holy when we undertake the job. That is thefirst and only matter to consider. Beyond motives, we cannot judge menand women....
"My bishop would drop dead before me, Bruce, if he heard that."
The other was silent a moment; then he said, slowly, "I wish some of usmiser'ble sinners could be so open minded as some of you God fearin',hell-preachin' church goers!"
After a long interval, in which their discussion rambled over a score oftopics, Bayard left.
"If you ever get near th' Circle A in that chariot of fire, I hope shegoes up in smoke, so you'll have to stay a while!" he said. "An' I hopeM's. Weyl's with you when it happens."
"Your wishes for bad luck are only offset by the hope that sometime wecan come and spend some days with you, my friend!" laughed the ministeras they shook hands.
* * * * *
Ann and Nora had returned when Bruce reached the Manzanita House and inthe former's room a few moments later, after he had reported on Lytton'sslow gaining of strength, Bayard said to her,
"Do you believe what I tell you, ma'am?"
She looked at him as though she did not get his meaning, but saw he wasin earnest and replied,
"I've never doubted a thing you've told me."
"Then I want you to believe one more thing I'm goin' to tell you, an' Idon't want you to ask me any questions about it, cause I'm sohogtied--that is, situated, ma'am--that I can't answer any. I just wantto tell you never to let your husband go back to th' Sunset mine."
"Never to _let_ him? Why, when he's himself again that's where his workwill be--"
"I can't help that, ma'am. All I can say is, not to let him. It meansmore to you than anybody can think who don't know th' ways of men in acountry like this. Just remember that, an' believe that, will you?"
"You want him to give up everything?"
"All I want, ma'am, is for you to say you'll never let him go there."
Finally, she unwillingly, uncomprehendingly, agreed to do all she couldto prevent Ned's return to the mining camp.
"Then, that's all, for now," Bayard announced, dryly, and went from theroom.
Their hands had not touched; there had been no word, no glancesuggestive of the emotional outburst which characterized their lastmeeting, and, when he was gone, the woman, with all her conscience, felta keen disappointment.