Judith of the Godless Valley Part 41

h.e.l.lo, Fowler! What the devil are you doing out here?"

"Come in and have a bite of grub, Falkner," exclaimed the preacher.

"Don't care if I do!" Charleton threw a weary leg across the saddle and dismounted. Douglas, who had finished his meal, returned to the bunk and Charleton took his place.

"Kind of funny to find you and Doug eating together," said Charleton.

"He should have given me a swift kick," agreed Douglas. "Instead, he fed me."

"That's sound religion, isn't it?" asked Mr. Fowler, pouring Charleton a cup of coffee.

"It's sound hospitality, anyhow," replied Charleton.

"Aw, any one would admit Fowler lives up to his faith," expostulated Douglas.

Charleton glanced at the young rider in surprise. "What's happened to you, old trapper?"

"Nothing. Only I wish I had the same religion he's got."

"So's you could herd the sheep?" asked Charleton.

"So's I could have peace," retorted Douglas.

"Peace? What does a kid like you want of peace? Anybody that can't find peace in Lost Chief is a fool."

"I'm no fool!" contradicted Doug, with a growing irritation at Charleton for interrupting his talk with Fowler. "And where is there a peaceful person in Lost Chief?"

"Douglas," said Charleton, "when you are as old as I am you'll realize that Lost Chief is as near heaven as man can hope to get. A poke of salt and a gun on your saddle, a blanket tied behind, a good horse under you, the Persian poet in your pocket, all time and the ranges before you, and what more could mortal man desire?"

"A woman, you've always said before," grunted Douglas.

"I was holding back out of respect to the sky pilot," laughed Charleton.

"But since you mentioned it, there's Inez, who's always ready for a trip."

Mr. Fowler shot a quick look at Douglas, who again grunted indifferently and rolled a cigarette.

"Are you and Douglas partners, Falkner?" asked the preacher.

"Once in a while. Why are you herding sheep, Fowler? This herd yours?"

"No. They belong to a Denver man. I'm herding because I couldn't keep a church together."

Charleton nodded. "The day of the church is over."

There was silence during which Charleton devoured beans, Douglas smoked, and the preacher sat with his eyes on the slow moving herd.

Finally Charleton said, "And why do you think something is the matter with Lost Chief, Douglas?"

"In other parts of the country," replied Douglas, his blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on Charleton's dark face, "among people of our kind and breed, a girl like Judith couldn't run with a girl like Inez and be considered decent. And a couple like Jimmy and Little Marion couldn't have a party a week after they were married, the baby attending, and be considered O.K. by the so-called best folks and nothing more said."

Charleton's face grew darkly red. "Who told you that?" he asked in an ugly voice.

"I'm not a fool, as I've told you before. And as you very well know, I've wanted Judith for my wife ever since I was a boy and I haven't wanted her man-handled. And you know, as Jude said once, a girl has about as much chance of staying straight in Lost Chief as a cottontail has with a coyote pack. She's good because, well, because she's Judith, that's all. Now, I tell you when things are as hard as that for a young girl in a beautiful place like our valley, there's something wrong. And look at Little Marion!"

"Leave her out or you'll regret it," snarled Charleton.

"I'm not afraid of you, Charleton," said Douglas, with indifference not at all a.s.sumed. "Little Marion is a peach of a girl. She should have been a big influence. She's--she's had a wrong start."

"She's got a fine baby and a good husband."

"I never could argue with you, Charleton. But I know Lost Chief is a bad place for girls. Why, I'll bet there isn't a finer bunch of girls than ours in the world, for looks and nerve and smartness. Peter says he's never seen any that could touch them. And take the stories you read.

Where's a heroine like Judith?"

There was something so simple and so earnest in Doug's manner and voice that the red died out of Charleton's face and he said, "I'm with you on that point, Douglas."

"Peter told me once," Douglas went on, "that the Greek race was the finest in the world in their minds and their looks and in every way, until the Greek women got promiscuous. That as soon as that happened the race began to decay. And he said that there isn't a nation in the world any stronger than the virtue of its women."

"How old are you, Douglas?" asked Mr. Fowler.

"Twenty-three. I just want to say this one thing more, then I'm through.

When things like that happen to Jimmy and Little Marion, they aren't doing the right thing by Lost Chief, and"--rising with sudden restless fire--"I'd like to see Lost Chief be the kind of place my grandfather Douglas wanted it to be!"

Charleton yawned. "We'd better be moving along."

"Don't go for a minute," pleaded Mr. Fowler. "Douglas was right when he said that the whole world is hungry for a belief in immortality. And as long as the world exists it will have that hunger. And religion is G.o.d's answer to that hunger. Civilization without religion is the body without a soul. Religion brings a spiritual peace that man perpetually craves and that riches or women or horses or the hunt never brought and never can bring. At heart, there's not an unhappier man than you, Falkner. Why?

Because you have no belief in immortality."

"Great G.o.d, Fowler, how can I believe in it when I can't?" shouted Charleton.

"Exactly! How can you?" returned Fowler, deliberately. "No foul-minded man ever yet had an ear for the word of the living G.o.d."

Charleton jumped to his feet. "What do you mean, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d cleric, you!"

"Aw, come off, Charleton!" exclaimed Douglas. "I've learned more dirt from you than I bet Judith ever has from Inez. Come on, let's go get the horses. Thanks for the grub, Mr. Fowler."

"You are very welcome. Don't go away angry with me, Falkner. If I called you foul-minded, you called me by a foul name."

"I guess we're even," agreed Charleton. "I'm obliged to you for the meal." He swung out of the wagon, mounted his horse and was off, Douglas following.

Charleton had hobbled his capture of horses in a little draw, several miles from the sheep camp. In the excitement and hard work of herding the creatures into the camp and re-hobbling them, there was no opportunity to discuss the visit with the preacher sheep-herder. Nor did Douglas wish to bring the matter up when, long after dark, they sat down to their supper of venison and biscuits. He kept Charleton firmly to the story of his capture of each horse and when this was done and the dishes washed, he went to bed.

But long after Charleton had crawled in beside him, Doug lay awake thinking of Judith and of the preacher. He wondered what influence a man like Fowler would have on a girl like Judith. He wondered if Judith would come out with him to call on the preacher. He thought it highly improbable. And then he thought of Peter and what Peter might have said that day had he and not Charleton interrupted Doug and the preacher. For the thousandth time, he thought of Peter's love for his mother and he wondered how his mother had kept herself fine as Peter said she had.

Perhaps she had had some sort of religious faith.

"I wish Grandfather Douglas had put the church up with the schoolhouse,"

he said to himself. "Maybe it would have saved Judith as well as Scott Parsons."

Then he gasped. An idea of overwhelming importance had come to him. He lay for an instant contemplating it, then he crept from the bunk and the sheep wagon into the open. It was a frosty, star-lit night. The river rushed like black oil, silver cakes of ice grinding above the roar of the current. The Moose was munching on a wisp of alfalfa. Douglas saddled him and led him softly out of hearing of the wagon, then sprang upon his back and put him to the canter.