“Ugh!” Nell shuddered and glanced at Joe again. “It is such an ugly place.”
“Where’s your civic pride, Nell?” and the other chuckled.
“What is there to be proud of?” was her sharp demand.
“It’s a money-making town.”
“Money!”
“Quite a necessary evil, that same money,” he rejoined. “Gold is a good foundation to build a town upon. Canyon Pass has ‘got a future in front of it,’ as the feller said. Business is booming. Bank deposits are increasing. Three families have bought piano-players, and there are at least a dozen talking machines in town—besides the female citizens,” and he laughed again.
“All that?” in a sneering tone. “Still, the bulk of the wages from the mines and washings are spent for drink and in gambling. The increase in bank deposits I bet are made by the merchants and honkytonk keepers, Mr. Hurley. Canyon Pass is prosperous—yes. But at the expense of everything decent and everybody’s decency. Mother Tubbs has got it right. Canyon Pass hasn’t got a heart.”
“Oh—heart!”
“Yes, heart. There’s neither law nor gospel, she says. Only such law as is enforced at the muzzle of the sheriff’s gun. And as far as religion goes—when was there ever a parson in Canyon Pass?”
“They’re rare birds, I admit. But you needn’t blame me, Nell.”