Ernest Seton - The Preacher of Cedar Mountain

Jim was in his glory. He frolicked with everybody and was in the midst of a gallant speech to Shives's daughter when some one tapped his arm and dragged him off. It was John Higginbotham, anxious to get his scheme more clearly into Jim's mind. "Not only was the main line of insurance good, but everything pointed to a land boom soon in Deadwood. Once the boom struck, the insurance could be temporarily sidetracked. Then, allowing seven hundred and fifty dollars capital, of which five hundred dollars could be invested in lots on 10 per cent. margin, this would secure five thousand dollars' worth of lots, or fifty small lots at present prices; in the ordinary course of the boom, this would speedily reach fifty thousand dollars, when, of course, he would sell and——"

"Hartigan!" cried a voice. "Who, in Heaven's name, is concealing you? Oh, here you are." It was Dr. Carson. "I've been thinking of you a lot ever since this news broke and I've decided that you are more like a man than a preacher. Why don't you cut out all this piffling holy talk and go in for something you can do? Now, my theory is that each man can do some one thing better than any one else; and, if he has the luck to have that one thing for his life calling, he's going to make a success. You know horses better than any man I know. You knew enough to steal my team, for example, when you meant to elope."

"Now, see here," Hartigan objected.

"Don't interrupt me," said Carson. "Jim, this is my honest advice: get out of this rotten little town. Go to Deadwood, or any other big, rotten town, and start in on the horse business and something will happen worth while."

Jim's eyes glowed. It was curious how the word "horse" fascinated him. "I'll surely take the first two moves you advise: I'll get out of this town and I'll go to Deadwood. But——" He stopped. He didn't say it, but he had given his "wurd as a mahn" long ago that his life should be devoted to the Church.

Little Peaches was there in a very high collar and sang, "Jerusalem the Golden," till tears came to the eyes of the audience. As he began the third score, Colonel Waller and his staff arrived. The old soldier's eyes gleamed as he measured the tall, straight form of the Preacher. "Well, Jim, can't I persuade you to enlist? We need a few like you."

"Sure, I'm enlisted now," was the reply, "and going to the front; and when I am gone, don't forget my horse."

"Ha, ha! We are not likely to," said the Colonel. "The wisest thing you ever did for yourself was when you sold him."

As the party began to break up Hannah Higginbotham plucked Jim's sleeve and whispered: "If John comes chasing you with a scheme, don't pay any attention to him. He'd try to talk business if you were both swimming for your lives; but a week from now, we'll come to see you at Deadwood. I've fixed it up with Belle."

As Jim waited for Belle, who was having a few last words with Mrs. Jebb, Charlie Bylow came rather shyly forward with his wife. "Mr. Hartigan, I've got a good team now; in case there is any moving to do, I'd like to do it for you." And then as if he thought Jim might not understand he said: "We owe a lot to you and we'd like a chance to pay it back."

There was one old acquaintance that did not turn up. That was Lou-Jane Hoomer. Probably she was busy packing her trunk for the visit to Rochester; at any rate, upon her return from the East, she joined the Congregationalists, where she sang regularly in the choir and soon made such an impression on the baritone that they found increasing comfort in each other's company.

Two days later Jim and Belle were again on the Deadwood trail. It seemed that each new chapter of their lives must begin on that trail. They were in a new buckboard, the gift of Pa Boyd, driving Midnight in harness. That same morning Charlie Bylow had left for Deadwood with his team and wagon. The latter was loaded with gifts from Cedar Mountain friends, some of them sufficiently absurd—for example, framed chromos, a parrot cage, a home instructor in Spanish, and a self-rocking cradle—but there was also a simple sufficiency of household furniture.

The buckboard overtook the wagon in the morning and arrived at Deadwood by one o'clock. Jim was for going to the hotel and dining, but Belle thought it better to see the estate agent first, and within half an hour they had deposited the first month's rent for the white cottage. Strange to tell, though the cottage had stood empty and uncalled for during the previous six months, there were two other applications on the afternoon that the Hartigans secured their lease.

Their furniture arrived late in the day, and those who have watched newly-mated birds carry the sticks and straw of their first nest, will understand the joy experienced by Belle and Jim in planning, arranging, and rearranging this first home. Whether it is larger bliss to carry sticks or to bill and coo cannot be guessed, and perhaps it does not matter, for every stone in the perfect arch is bearing all the arch. The first night in their own—their very own—home, with no one but themselves, was a sweet contentment for the time and a precious memory afterward. As they sat hand in hand looking from the little window down the valley, where the golden west was blocked by the high, dark hill, they knew calm for the first time after many days of tempest, and Jim's fervent soul found words in the ancient text: "Truly the light is sweet; and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun."

A very blessed thing is the sunrise on Deadwood. It means far more than in most towns, for the shut-in-ness of the gulch makes night so very night-like, and the gloom is king till the radiant one mounts to flood the place with a sudden sunrise—a little late, perhaps, but a special sunrise for the town.

It was their first real breakfast together. Jim rose and lighted the fire in the stove. Belle made the coffee and fried the eggs. It was all their own and there is something about such a breakfast that gives it the nature of a sacrament, with youth and health, beauty and love, assembled to assist, and a special angel of happiness to bless it with his shining eyes.

As their talk turned to future plans, Jim's idea was to settle down, find quarters for Midnight, then visit the Salvation Army barracks and wait in the crowd till an opportunity to speak should occur. After that he had no doubt his pulpit eloquence would open a way to secure an appointment.

Belle's idea was totally different. "No, Jim, that won't do. If we enter the town by the back door we'll always be back-door folk. I propose to come in by the front way, and have a red carpet and a triumphal arch for our entry. Don't do anything until I have tried a plan of mine. Meanwhile, you look after Midnight."

Jim's curiosity was very large, but he smiled and asked no questions, and Belle set out for a visit to Uncle Collins. "It has to be done just right," she explained to that gentleman after an elaboration of her idea. Belle knew instinctively that all their fate in Deadwood would turn on the colour of their coming. Uncle Collins entered wholeheartedly into the plan and that week, much to Jim's amazement, the local press came out with a column article:

Our townsfolk are to be congratulated on the latest increase to our population. The Rev. James Hartigan and his beautiful bride, formerly Miss Boyd, of Cedar Mountain, have yielded to the call of Deadwood and decided to make their home in the mining capital of Dakota. They have taken the White Cottage on Southview Avenue (Muggins & Mawlins Real Estate Company) and will be at home Friday afternoon.

Dr. Hartigan was educated at Coulter College, Ontario, and won his spurs long ago as a pulpit orator. While devoting his life to the ministry, he is also a man of means and is likely to make important investments in Deadwood as favourable opportunities present themselves. In fact, it was largely the need of such opportunity that led to the selection of Deadwood as his future home.