A MAN GETS A SQUARE DEAL
Dale did not miss Ben Nyland by more than a few hundred yards as he
passed through the neck of the basin. But the men could not see each
other in the black shadows cast by the somber mountains that guarded
the entrance to the basin, and so they sped on, one headed away from
Okar and one toward it, each man nursing his bitter thoughts; one
intent on killing and the other riding to escape the death that, he
felt, was imminent.
Dale reached the Bar D and pulled the saddle and bridle from his horse.
He caught up a fresh animal, threw saddle and bridle on him, and then
ran into the house to get some things that he thought might be valuable
to him.
He came out again, and nervously paused on the threshold of the door to
listen.
A sound reached his ears--the heavy drumming of a horse's hoofs on the
hard sand in the vicinity of the ranchhouse; and Dale gulped down his
fear as he ran to his horse, threw himself into the saddle and raced
around a corner of the house.
He had hardly vanished into the gloom of the night when another rider
burst into view.
The second rider was Sanderson. He did not halt Streak at the door of
the Bar D ranchhouse, for from a distance he had seen a man throw
himself upon a horse and dash away, and he knew of no man in the basin,
except Dale, who would find it necessary to run from his home in that
fashion.
So he kept Streak in the dead run he had been in when approaching the
house, and when he reached the corner around which Dale had vanished,
he saw his man, two or three hundred yards ahead, flashing across a
level toward the far side of the big basin.
He knew that Dale thought his pursuer was Nyland, and that thought gave
Sanderson a grim joy. In Sanderson's mind was a picture of Dale's
face--of the stark, naked astonishment that would be on it when he
discovered that it was Sanderson and not Nyland who had caught him.
For Sanderson would catch him--he was convinced of that.
The conviction became strengthened when, after half an hour's run,
Streak had pulled up on Dale. Sanderson could see that Dale's horse
was running erratically; that it faltered on the slight rises that they
came to now and then. And when Sanderson discovered that Dale's horse
was failing, he urged Streak to a faster pace. In an hour the space
between the two riders had become less. They were climbing the long,
gradual slope that led upward out of the basin when Dale's horse
stumbled and fell, throwing Dale out of the saddle.
There was something horribly final in the manner of Dale's falling, for
he tumbled heavily and lay perfectly quiet afterward. His horse, after
rising, stumbled on a few steps and fell again.
Sanderson, fully alive to the danger of haste, rode slowly toward the
fallen man. He was taking no chances, for Dale might be shamming in an
effort to shoot Sanderson as he came forward.
But Dale was not shamming. Dismounting and drawing his pistol,
Sanderson went forward. Dale did not move, and when at last Sanderson
stood over the fallen man he saw that his eyes were closed and that a
great gash had been cut in his forehead near the right temple.
Sanderson saw that the man was badly hurt, but to make sure of him he
drew Dale's pistol from its sheath and searched his clothing for other
weapons--finding another pistol in a pocket, and a knife in a belt.
These he threw into some brush near by, and then he bent over the man.
Dale was unconscious, and despite all Sanderson could do, he remained
so.
Sanderson examined the wound in his temple, and discovered that it was
deep and ragged--such a wound as a jagged stone might make.
It was midnight when Sanderson ceased his efforts and decided that Dale
would die. He pitied the man, but he felt no pang of regret, for Dale
had brought his death upon himself. Sanderson wondered, standing
there, looking down at Dale, whether he would have killed the man. He
decided that he would have killed him.
"But that ain't no reason why I should let him die after he's had an
accident," he told himself. "I'll get him to Okar--to the doctor.
Then, after the doc patches him up--if he can--an' I still think he
needs killing I'll do it."
So he brought Dale's horse near. The animal had had a long rest, and
had regained his strength.
Sanderson bent to Dale and lifted his shoulders, so that he might get
an arm under him, to carry him to his horse. But at the first movement
Dale groaned and opened his eyes, looking directly into Sanderson's.
"Don't!" he said, "for God's sake, don't! You'll break me apart! It's
my back--it's broke. I've felt you workin' around me for hours. But
it won't do any good--I'm done. I can feel myself goin'."
Sanderson laid him down again and knelt beside him.
"You're Sanderson," said Dale, after a time. "I thought it was Nyland
chasin' me for a while. Then I heard you talkin' to your horse an' I
knew it was you. Why don't you kill me?"
"I reckon the Lord is doin' that," said Sanderson.
"Yes--He is. Well, the Lord ain't ever done anything for me."
He was silent for a moment. Then:
"I want to tell you somethin', Sanderson. I've tried to hate you, but
I ain't never succeeded. I've admired you. I've cussed myself for
doin' it, but I couldn't help it. An' because I couldn't hate you, I
tried my best to do things that would make you hate me.
"I've deviled Mary Bransford because I thought it would stir you up. I
don't care anything for her--it's Peggy Nyland that I like. Mebbe I'd
have done the square thing to her--if I'd been let alone--an' if she'd
have liked me. Peggy's better, ain't she? When I saw her after--after
I saw Maison layin' there, choked to----"
"So you saw Maison--dead, you say?"
"Ben Nyland guzzled him," Dale's lips wreathed in a cynical smile.
"Ben thought Maison had brought Peggy to his rooms. You knowed Maison
was dead?"
Sanderson nodded.
"Then you must have been to Okar." He groaned. "Where's Ben Nyland?"
"In Okar. He's lookin' for you." Sanderson leaned closer to the man
and spoke sharply to him. "Look here, Dale; you were at the Double A.
What has become of Mary Bransford?"
"She went away with Barney Owen--to Okar. Nobody hurt her," he said,
as he saw Sanderson's eyes glow. "She's all right--she's with her
brother."
He saw Sanderson's eyes; they were filled with an expression of
incredulity; and a late moon, just showing its rim above the edge of
the mesa above them, flooded the slope with a brilliancy that made it
possible for Dale to see another expression in Sanderson's eyes--an
expression which told him that Sanderson thought his mind was wandering.
He laughed, weakly.
"You think I'm loco, eh? Well, I ain't. Barney Owen ain't Barney Owen
at all--he's Will Bransford. I found that out yesterday," he
continued, soberly, as Sanderson looked quickly at him. "I had some
men down to Tombstone way, lookin' him up.
"When old Bransford showed me the letter that you took away from me, I
knew Will Bransford was in Tombstone; an' when Mary sent that thousand
to him I set a friend of mine--Gary Miller--onto him. Gary an' two of
his friends salivated young Bransford, but he turned up, later, minus
the money, in Tombstone. Another friend of mine sent me word--an' a
description of him. Barney Owen is Bransford.
"Just what happened to Gary Miller an' his two friends has bothered me
a heap," went on Dale.
"They was to come this way, to help me in this deal. But they never
showed up."
Sanderson smiled, and Dale's eyes gleamed.
"You know what's become of him!" he charged. "That's where you got
that thousand you give to Mary Bransford--an' the papers, showin' that
young Bransford was due here. Ain't it?"
"I ain't sayin'," said Sanderson.
"Well," declared Dale, "Barney Owen is Will Bransford. The night
Morley got him drunk we went the limit with Owen, an' he talked enough
to make me suspicious. That's why I sent to Tombstone to find out how
he looked. We had the evidence to show the court at Las Vegas. We was
goin' to prove you wasn't young Bransford, an' then we was goin' to put
Owen out of the--"
Dale gasped, caught his breath, and stiffened.
Sanderson stayed with him until the dawn, sitting, quietly beside him
until the end. Then Sanderson got up, threw the body on Dale's horse,
mounted his own, and set out across the basin toward Okar.