Down the Mother Lode [3]
"No, Stinson" raising his voice authoritatively, "I shall not go out. It is my desire to pray for my sins today * * * and there has a letter come from overseas which I must read - if I can. If I can - "
In an hour the room was cleared of smoke, greasy cards, poker chips and empty bottles. The bar was in a small room apart. The poker table, supplemented with a box, was covered with a handsome altar cloth flanked by huge silver candlesticks and vases which had been carried across the plains. Every individual in the community came to church and stayed afterward for the christening. At least twenty men expressed a wish to be god-father to the baby and the proud mother accepted all offers. When the christening was over, William Duncan lurched to his feet, his high-bred face full of tenderness, his long-fingered, fine grained hands poised over the rosy child, while he quoted:
"May time who sheds his blight o'er all, And daily dooms some joy to death. O'er thee let years so gently fall, They shall not crush one flower beneath!"
"Ah, 'here comes the bride!' 'All the world's a stage!' Let us on with the next scene," and he reeled back to his little table in the corner.
The kissing and congratulations after the wedding were interrupted by the shouts of a man on horseback, and riding hard.
"Where's the minister? Send for Doc Miller! That beast of a Mexican horse thief - he' shot Jim Muldoon down at Dolton's Bar. Jim caught he's stealing his horse and I'm afraid the dirty greaser's killed him. We got 'im, though, before he skipped. Somebody go down to Rattlesnake for Doc Miller. They're bringing 'em both here."
When Doc Miller saw Muldoon stretched on the barroom table, the same table which a few minutes before had served as an altar he shook his head.
"He will be gone in half an hour," he said. The men standing about began taking off their hats.
"I wish to write home," whispered Muldoon. The young mother handed her baby to its father and seizing pencil and paper, ran forward. The minister opened his prayer book at the service for the dying.
When that service had been read, and what had been Muldoon carried away to be made ready for the last sleep, only the minister and the tall Englishman were left in the bar-room.
"In the midst of life we are in death," muttered Duncan.
"True," rebuked the other "so live well the life which the Lord, thy God, hath provided thee." Will Duncan laughed aloud.
"It is too late, Man-o'-God! There is no place in the world for a younger son." The minister had not heard. He sprang toward the open window, calling:
"Wait! It is written - 'Thou shalt not kill!' Bring him in, like just and honest men, for a hearing. He may be a horse thief and a murderer but you shall take the rope from his neck and he shall speak in his own defense before he goes to his Maker."
So a hearing was given (although grudgingly, and with audible grumbling) by the friends of Muldoon across the table which had so lately been his bier, but in the end they took the Mexican out for the short-cut to retribution.
Two hours later, around the same table was solemnized the funeral service of Jim Muldoon. The minister would not return for six weeks. It must be held at once. Gentleman Jack gave a suit of finest black broadcloth for a shroud. and the little bride, keeping one flower from her wedding bouquet, placed the rest in the dead man's hands. She kissed him softly on his forehead, whispering through her tears. "For the ones at home who loved you," and stood watching as six men carried him away to the tiny cemetery under the trees. on a hill.
Vesper services were over and the weary minister and his congregation had gone before Duncan found courage to open and read his letter. His elder brother, heir to the title and great houses and landed estates of his family, had been killed in the hunting field and he, being next in line, was to come home to succeed to the position.
He, William - Duncan - Claibourne - Earl of - but no, his family name had never been told in California.
Portions of the
In an hour the room was cleared of smoke, greasy cards, poker chips and empty bottles. The bar was in a small room apart. The poker table, supplemented with a box, was covered with a handsome altar cloth flanked by huge silver candlesticks and vases which had been carried across the plains. Every individual in the community came to church and stayed afterward for the christening. At least twenty men expressed a wish to be god-father to the baby and the proud mother accepted all offers. When the christening was over, William Duncan lurched to his feet, his high-bred face full of tenderness, his long-fingered, fine grained hands poised over the rosy child, while he quoted:
"May time who sheds his blight o'er all, And daily dooms some joy to death. O'er thee let years so gently fall, They shall not crush one flower beneath!"
"Ah, 'here comes the bride!' 'All the world's a stage!' Let us on with the next scene," and he reeled back to his little table in the corner.
The kissing and congratulations after the wedding were interrupted by the shouts of a man on horseback, and riding hard.
"Where's the minister? Send for Doc Miller! That beast of a Mexican horse thief - he' shot Jim Muldoon down at Dolton's Bar. Jim caught he's stealing his horse and I'm afraid the dirty greaser's killed him. We got 'im, though, before he skipped. Somebody go down to Rattlesnake for Doc Miller. They're bringing 'em both here."
When Doc Miller saw Muldoon stretched on the barroom table, the same table which a few minutes before had served as an altar he shook his head.
"He will be gone in half an hour," he said. The men standing about began taking off their hats.
"I wish to write home," whispered Muldoon. The young mother handed her baby to its father and seizing pencil and paper, ran forward. The minister opened his prayer book at the service for the dying.
When that service had been read, and what had been Muldoon carried away to be made ready for the last sleep, only the minister and the tall Englishman were left in the bar-room.
"In the midst of life we are in death," muttered Duncan.
"True," rebuked the other "so live well the life which the Lord, thy God, hath provided thee." Will Duncan laughed aloud.
"It is too late, Man-o'-God! There is no place in the world for a younger son." The minister had not heard. He sprang toward the open window, calling:
"Wait! It is written - 'Thou shalt not kill!' Bring him in, like just and honest men, for a hearing. He may be a horse thief and a murderer but you shall take the rope from his neck and he shall speak in his own defense before he goes to his Maker."
So a hearing was given (although grudgingly, and with audible grumbling) by the friends of Muldoon across the table which had so lately been his bier, but in the end they took the Mexican out for the short-cut to retribution.
Two hours later, around the same table was solemnized the funeral service of Jim Muldoon. The minister would not return for six weeks. It must be held at once. Gentleman Jack gave a suit of finest black broadcloth for a shroud. and the little bride, keeping one flower from her wedding bouquet, placed the rest in the dead man's hands. She kissed him softly on his forehead, whispering through her tears. "For the ones at home who loved you," and stood watching as six men carried him away to the tiny cemetery under the trees. on a hill.
Vesper services were over and the weary minister and his congregation had gone before Duncan found courage to open and read his letter. His elder brother, heir to the title and great houses and landed estates of his family, had been killed in the hunting field and he, being next in line, was to come home to succeed to the position.
He, William - Duncan - Claibourne - Earl of - but no, his family name had never been told in California.
Portions of the