Square Deal Sanderson

by Charles Alden Seltzer

  CHAPTER XXV

  A MAN IS AROUSED

  The coming of the dawn and the comforting contact with other humanbeings, brought Banker Maison relief from the terrifying fear that hadgripped him during the night. He became almost courageous afterbreakfast, and began to think that perhaps he had yielded too readilyto Sanderson's demands.

  As the hours passed and the memory of the night's horror grew moredistant, he began to feel indignant over the treatment accorded him bySanderson. Later the indignation grew to a deep and consuming rage,and he entertained thoughts of his power and influence and of thecomparative unimportance of the grim-faced man who had robbed him.

  Robbed him--that was it! Sanderson had robbed him!

  The more Maison's thoughts dwelt upon the occurrence the deeper grewhis rage. He even condoned Dale's action in bringing the Nyland girlto his rooms. Dale was his friend, and he would protect him!

  Perhaps Maison did not reflect that his greed was attempting to justifyhim; that back of his growing championship of Dale was his eagerness toget possession of the Nyland property; and that behind his rage overSanderson's visit was the bitter thought that Sanderson had compelledhim to pay for the destroyed and stolen steers.

  Maison did not consider that phase of the question. Or if he didconsider it he did not permit that consideration to influence hisactions. For within two hours after breakfast he had sent a messengerfor Silverthorn and Dale, and fifteen minutes later he was telling themthe story of the night's happenings.

  Silverthorn's face grew purple with rage during the recital. At itsconclusion he got up, dark purpose glinting in his eyes.

  "We've got to put Sanderson out of the way, and do it quickly!" hedeclared. "And we've got to get that money back. Dale, you're adeputy sheriff. Damn the law! This isn't a matter for courtaction--that damned Graney wouldn't give us a warrant for Sandersonnow, no matter what we told him! We've got to take the law into ourown hands. We'll see if this man can come in here, rob a bank, and getaway without being punished!"

  At the end of a fifteen-minute talk, Dale slipped out of the rear doorof the bank and sought the street. In the City Hotel he whispered toseveral men, who sauntered out of the building singly, mounted theirhorses, and rode toward the neck of the basin. In another saloon Dalewhispered to several other men, who followed the first ones.

  Dale's search continued for some little time, and he kept a continuousstream of riders heading toward the neck of the basin. And then, whenhe had spoken to as many as he thought he needed, he mounted his ownhorse and, rode away.

  Sanderson and Mary Bransford had not yet settled the question regardingthe disposal of the money Sanderson had received from Banker Maison.They sat on the edge of the porch, talking about it. From a window ofthe bunkhouse Barney Owen watched them, a pleased smile on his face.

  "It's yours," Sanderson told the girl. "An' we ain't trustin' _that_to any bank. Look what they did with the seven thousand I've got inthe Lazette bank. They've tied it up so nobody will be able to touchit until half the lawyers in the county have had a chance to gas aboutit. An' by that time there won't be a two-bit piece left to argueover. No, siree, you've got to keep that coin where you can put yourhands on it when you want it!"

  "When _you_ want it," she smiled. "Do you know, Deal," she addedseriously, blushing as she looked at him, "that our romance has been somuch different from other romances that I've heard about. It hasseemed so--er--matter of fact."

  He grinned. "All romances--real romances--are a heap matter of fact.Love is the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. When a guy meets agirl that he takes a shine to--an' the girl takes a shine to him--thereain't anything goin' to keep them from makin' a go of it."

  He reddened a little.

  "That's what I thought when I saw you. Even when the Drifter wastellin' me about you, I was sure of you."

  "I think you have shown it in your actions," she laughed.

  "But how about you?" he suggested; "did you have any thoughts on thesubject?"

  "I--I think that even while I thought you were my brother, I realizedthat my feeling for you was strange and unusual; though I laid it tothe fact that I had never had a brother, and therefore could not beexpected to know just how a sister should feel toward one. But it hasall been unusual, hasn't it?"

  "If you mean me comin' here like I did, an' masqueradin', an' lettin'you kiss me, an' fuss over me--why, mebbe that would be consideredunusual. But love ain't unusual; an' a man fightin' for the woman heloves ain't unusual."

  While he had been talking a change had come over him. His voice hadlost its note of gentle raillery, his lips had straightened into hardlines, his eyes were glowing with the light she had seen in them morethan once--the cold glitter of hostility.

  Startled, she took him by the shoulders and shook him.

  "Why, what on earth has come over you, Deal?"

  He grinned mirthlessly, got up, took a hitch in his cartridge belt, anddrew a full breath.

  "The fightin' ain't over yet," he said. "There's a bunch of guyscomin' toward the Double A. Dale's gang, most likely--after the moneyI took from Maison."

  She was on her feet now, and looking out into the basin. Two or threemiles away, enveloped in huge dust cloud, were a number of riders.They were coming fast, and headed directly for the Double A ranchhouse.

  The girl clung to Sanderson's arm in sudden terror until he gentlyreleased himself, and taking her by the shoulders forced her through adoor and into the sitting-room.

  "Hide that money in a safe place---where the devil himself couldn'tfind it. Don't give it up, no matter what happens."

  He walked to a window and looked out. Behind him he could hear Maryrunning here and there; and at last when the riders were within half amile of the house, she came and stood behind Sanderson, panting,resting her hands on his shoulders to peer over them at the comingriders.

  Sanderson turned and smiled at her. "We'll go out on the porch, now,an' wait for them."

  "Deal," she whispered excitedly; "why don't you go away? Get onStreak--he'll outrun any horse in the county! Go! Get Williams andthe other boys. Deal!" She shook him frenziedly. "It isn't the moneythey are after--it's you! They'll kill you, Deal! And there are somany of them! Run--run!"

  He grinned, patting her shoulder as he led her out upon the porch andforced her into a chair.

  When the men had come near enough for him to distinguish their faces,and he saw that Dale was leading them, he walked to a slender porchcolumn and leaned against it, turning to smile at Mary.

  "Maison decided he'd have to talk, looks like," he said. "Some menjust can't help it."

  Rigid in her chair, the girl watched the riders swoop toward theranchhouse; Sanderson, lounging against the porch column, smiledsaturninely.

  The riders headed directly toward the porch. Sanderson counted them asthey came to a halt within thirty feet of the edge of the porch. Therewere twenty of them.

  Dale, his face flushed, his eyes alight with triumph, dismounted andstepped forward, halting at the edge of the porch and sweeping his hatfrom his head with exaggerated courtesy.

  "Delighted to see you, ma'am--an' your friend, Deal Sanderson. Mr.Sanderson paid my friend Maison a visit last night, takin' away withhim ninety thousand dollars of the bank's money. Me an' my men hascome over to get the money--an' Mr. Sanderson. The Okar court allowsthat it needs him. I've got a warrant for him."

  Dale's grin was huge. He felt secure with his men behind him.

  But if he expected Sanderson to be impressed he was disappointed. Thelatter's face did not change color, nor did he shift his position inthe slightest manner. And his cold, amused grin disconcerted Dale.His voice, when he spoke, was gentle and drawling:

  "Was you thinkin' Miss Bransford is interested in warrants, Dale? Oh,don't! There's an honest judge in Okar, an' he ain't helpin' Maison'sgang. Get back to Okar an' tell Maison that Sanderson ain't visitin'Okar today."

  "You ain
't, eh!" Dale's voice snapped with rage. "Well, we ain'tcarin' a damn whether you do or not! We've got you, right where wewant you. I've got a warrant, an' you'll come peaceable or we'll plantyou! There ain't only two horses in the corral--showing that your menhas gone. An' there ain't anything between you an' the coyotes!"

  "Only you, Dale," said Sanderson. His voice was still gentle, stilldrawling. But into it had come a note that made Dale's face turn paleand caused the bodies of the men in the group to stiffen.

  "Only you, Dale," Sanderson repeated. His right hand was at his hip,resting lightly on the butt of the six-shooter that reposed in itsholster.

  "I've always wanted to test the idea of whether a crook like youthought more of what he was doin' than he did of his own life. Thisgun leather of mine is kind of short at the top--if you'll notice. Thestock an' the hammer of the gun are where they can be touched withoutinterferin' with the leather. There ain't any trigger spring, becauseI've been brought up to fan the hammer. There ain't any bottom to theholster, an' it's hung by a little piece of leather so's it'll turneasy in any direction.

  "It can easy be turned on you. You get goin'. I'll have a chance tobore one man before your crowd gets me. Likely it will be you. Whatare you sayin'?"

  Dale was saying nothing. His face changed color, he shifted his feetuneasily, and looked back at his men. Some of them were grinning, andit was plain to Dale that not one of them would act unless ordered todo so.

  And an order, given by him, would mean suicide, nothing less; for fromthat country in which Sanderson had gained his reputation had comestories of the man's remarkable ability with the weapon he haddescribed, and Dale had no longing to risk his life so recklessly.

  There was a long, tense silence. Not a man in the group of ridersmoved a finger. All were gazing, with a sort of dread fascination, atthe holster at Sanderson's right hip, and at the butt of the gun in it,projecting far, the hammer in plain sight.

  The situation could not last. Sanderson did not expect it to last.Seemingly calm and unconcerned, he was in reality passionately alertand watchful.

  For he had no hope of escaping from this predicament. He had made amistake in sending his men away with Williams, and he knew the chancesagainst him were too great. He had known that all along--even whentalking and comforting Mary Bransford.

  He knew that Dale had come to kill him; that Graney had not issued anywarrant for him, for Graney knew that Maison had acted of his ownvolition--or at least had given the judge that impression.

  But whether the warrant was a true one or not, Sanderson had decidedthat he would not let himself be taken. He had determined that at thefirst movement made by any man in the group he would kill Dale and takehis chance with the others.

  Dale knew it--he saw the cold resolution in Sanderson's eyes. Daledrew a deep breath, and the men in the group behind him watched himnarrowly.

  But just when it seemed that decisive action in one direction oranother must he taken, there came an interruption.

  Behind Sanderson--from one of the windows of the ranchhouse--came ahoarse curse.

  Sanderson saw Dale's eyes dilate; he saw the faces of the men in thegroup of riders change color; he saw their hands go slowly upward.Dale, too, raised his hands.

  Glancing swiftly over his shoulder, Sanderson saw Barney Owen at one ofthe windows. He was inside the house, his arms were resting on thewindow-sill. He was kneeling, and in his hands was a rifle, the muzzlecovering Dale and the men who had come with him.

  Owen's face was chalk white and working with demoniac passion. Hiseyes were wild, and blazing with a wanton malignancy that awed everyman who looked at him--Sanderson included. His teeth were bared in ahorrible snarl; the man was like some wild animal--worse, the savage,primitive passions of him were unleashed and rampant, directed by areasoning intelligence. His voice was hoarse and rasping, coming injerks:

  "Get out of the way, Sanderson! Stand aside! I'll take care of thesewhelps! Get your hands up, Dale! Higher--higher! You damned,sneaking vulture! Come here to make trouble, eh? You and your bunchof curs! I'll take care of you! Move--one of you! Move a finger!You won't! Then go! Go! I'll count three! The man that isn't goingwhen I finish counting gets his quick! One--two----"

  "Wait!! Already on the move, the men halted at the sound of his voice.The violence of the passion that gripped him gave him a new thought.

  "You don't go!" he jeered at them. "You stay here. Sanderson, youtake their guns! Grab them yourself!"

  Sanderson drew his own weapon and moved rapidly among the men. He gotDale's gun first and threw it in the sand at the edge of the porch.Then he disarmed the others, one after another, throwing the weaponsnear where he had thrown Dale's.

  He heard Owen tell Mary Bransford to get them, and he saw Marygathering them up and taking them into the house.

  Sanderson made his search of the men thorough, for he had caught thespirit of the thing. At last, when the guns were all collected, Owenissued another order:

  "Now turn your backs--every last man of you! And stay that way! Theman that turns his head will never do it again!

  "Sanderson, you go after Williams and the others. They've only beengone about an hour, and they won't travel fast. Get them! Bring themback here. Then we'll take the whole bunch over to Okar and see whatJudge Graney has to say about that warrant!"

  Sanderson looked at Mary Bransford, a huge grin on his face. Shesmiled stiffly at him in return, and nodded her head.

  Seemingly, it was the only way out of a bad predicament. Certainlythey could not commit wholesale murder, and it was equally certain thatif Dale was permitted to go, he and his men would return. Or theymight retire to a distance, surround the house and thus achieve theiraim.

  Sanderson, however, was not satisfied, for he knew that a sudden,concerted rush by the men--even though they were unarmed--would resultdisastrously to Owen--and to Mary--if she decided to remain.

  Telling the little man to keep a watchful eye on the men, he went amongthem, ordering those that were mounted from their horses. When theywere all standing, he began to uncoil the ropes that were hanging fromthe saddles.

  He worked fast, and looking up once he saw Owen's eyes glowing withapproval--while Mary smiled broadly at him. They knew what he meant todo.

  Dale and his men knew also, for their faces grew sullen. Sanderson,however, would tolerate no resistance. Rope in hand, he faced Dale.The latter's face grew white with impotent fury as he looked at therope in Sanderson's hands; but the significant Hardness that flashedinto Sanderson's eyes convinced him of the futility of resistance, andhe held his hands outward.

  Sanderson tied them. Very little of the rope was required in theprocess, and after Dale was secured, Sanderson threw a loop around thehands of a man who stood beside Dale, linking him with the latter.

  Several others followed. Sanderson used half a dozen ropes, and whenhe had finished, all the Dale men--with their leader on an extreme end,were lashed together.

  There were hard words spoken by the men; but they brought only grins toSanderson's face, to Owen's, and to Mary's.

  "They won't bother you a heap, now," declared Sanderson as he steppedtoward the porch and spoke to Owen. "Keep an eye on them, though, an'don't let them go to movin' around much."

  Sanderson stepped up on the porch and spoke lowly to Mary, asking herto go with him after Williams--for he had had that thought in mind eversince Owen had issued the order for him to ride after the engineer.

  But Mary refused, telling Sanderson that by accompanying him she wouldonly hamper him.

  Reluctantly, then, though swiftly, Sanderson ran to the corral, threwsaddle and bridle on Streak, and returned to the porch. He haltedthere for a word with Owen and Mary, then raced northeastward,following a faint trail that Williams and the others had taken, whichled for a time over the plains, then upward to the mesa which rimmedthe basin.