Square Deal Sanderson

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE PLOTTERS

  Riding down the gentle slope of the basin, Alva Dale maintained asullen silence. He rode far in advance of the two men who accompaniedhim, not listening to their voices, which occasionally reached him, notseeming to be aware of their presence.

  Defeat had always brought bitterness to Dale; his eyes were glowingwith a futile rage as he led his men homeward.

  Dale's scheme to dispose of Ben Nyland had been carefully planned anddeftly carried out. He had meant to hang Nyland, take possession ofhis property, and force Peggy to accept whatever conditions he cared toimpose upon her.

  The unlooked-for appearance of Mary Bransford's brother had disturbedhis plans. As a matter of fact, the coming of Bill Bransford wouldmake it necessary for Dale to make entirely new plans.

  Dale was puzzled. During the elder Bransford's last days, and for ayear or more preceding the day of Bransford's death, Dale had professedfriendship for him. The pretense of friendship had resulted profitablyfor Dale, for it had enabled him to establish an intimacy withBransford which had made it possible for Dale to learn much ofBransford's personal affairs.

  For instance, Dale had discovered that there was in Las Vegas no recordof Mary Bransford's birth, and though Bransford had assured him thatMary was his child, the knowledge had served to provide Dale with aweapon which he might have used to advantage--had not Bill Bransfordreturned in time to defeat him.

  Dale had heard the story of the trouble between Bransford and his son,Will; it was the old tale of father and son not agreeing, and of theson leaving home, aggrieved.

  Dale had made it his business to inquire often about the son, and whenone day Bransford told him he had received a letter from his boy, Dalebetrayed such interest that the elder Bransford had permitted him toread the letter.

  That had been about a year before Mary had written the letter thatSanderson had found in one of Will Bransford's pockets. The lettertold of the writer's longing to return home. The elder Bransforddeclared that his heart had not softened toward the boy and that hewould not answer him. Leaving Dale, Bransford had dropped the letter,and Dale had picked it up.

  Dale still had the letter, and because of his pretended friendship forthe father he had been able to insinuate himself into Mary's goodgraces. He had advised Mary to write to her brother, and he had seenthe letter from the younger Bransford in which the latter had told hissister that he would return.

  After reading Will Bransford's letter, and learning from Mary that shewas sending a thousand dollars to her brother, Dale wrote to a friendin Tucson. Dale's letter accompanied Mary's to the latter town, andthe evil-visaged fellow who received it grinned widely in explainingthe circumstance to two of his friends.

  "We'll git him, sure as shootin'," he said. "A thousand dollars ain'ta hell of a lot--but I've put men out of business for less!"

  Dale knew the man to whom he had written, and he had received a reply,telling him that the job would be done. And that was why, whenSanderson had calmly announced that he was Will Bransford, Dale hadbeen unwilling to believe his statement.

  Dale did not believe, now, that the man who had interfered to saveNyland was Will Bransford. Dale rode slowly homeward, scowling,inwardly fuming with rage, but unable to form any decided plan ofaction.

  It was several miles to the Bar D, Dale's ranch, and when he arrivedthere he was in an ugly mood. He curtly dismissed the two men who hadaccompanied him and went into the house. Opening the door of the roomhe used as an office, he saw a medium-sized man of fifty sitting in abig desk chair, smoking a cigar.

  The man smiled at Dale's surprise, but did not offer to get up, merelyextending his right hand, which Dale grasped and shook heartily.

  "Dave Silverthorn, or I'm a ghost!" ejaculated Dale, grinning. "How inthunder did you get here?"

  "Rode," smiled the other, showing a set of white, flashing teeth. "Isaw you pass the window. You looked rather glum, and couldn't see myhorse, I suppose. Something gone wrong?"

  "Everything," grunted Dale; "that confounded young Bransford has showedup!"

  The smile left the other's face. His eyes glowed and the corners ofhis mouth took on a cruel droop.

  "He has, eh?" he said, slowly. His voice was expressionless. "So thatlead has petered out."

  He puffed slowly at his cigar, studying Dale's face, while the latterrelated what had occurred.

  "So Nyland is still at large, eh?" he remarked, when Dale had finished."Why not set a gunman on him?"

  Dale scowled. "There ain't a gunman in this section that would take achance on Nyland--he's lightning!" Dale cursed. "Besides, there ain'tno use in goin' after Nyland's place unless we can get the Double A."

  "Then there wasn't any use of going after it yesterday, or today, asyou did," said the other. "Unless," he added, looking intently atDale, "the sister has been on your mind some."

  Dale reddened.

  "I don't mind admittin' she is," he grinned.

  "Look out, Dale," warned the other; "there's danger there. Many a bigproject has been ruined by men dragging a woman into it. You have noright to jeopardize this thing with a love affair. Peggy Nyland isdesirable to a man of your intense passion, I suppose; but this projectis bigger than any woman's love!"

  "Bah!" sneered Dale. "I can 'tend to her without losin' sight of themain object."

  "All right, then," laughed the other. "The success of this thingdepends largely on you. We can't do a thing with the Legislature;these sagebrush fools are adamant on the question of water-rights, Theywon't restrict an owner's right and title to possession of all thewater on his land.

  "And he can dam the stream as much as he pleases, providing he don'tcut down the supply that normally flows to his neighbors; and the gorgedoesn't supply any water to the basin, so that Bransford would bejustified in directing the gorge stream.

  "In other words, old Bransford's title to the land that the gorge runsthrough is unassailable. There is only one way to get at him, and thatis in some way to get possession of the title."

  "That's tied up tighter than blazes," said Dale. "Record and all areclear. An' there ain't no judge we can get at. But if young Bransfordhadn't come----"

  "Yes," smiled Silverthorn. "It's too bad. We had a man, ready to comeon at the word, to impersonate young Bransford. He would have stayedhere long enough to get a clear title to the Double A, and then hewould have turned it over to us for a consideration. It rather looksas though we are stumped, eh?"

  Dale frowned. Then he got up, went to a drawer in the desk beforewhich Silverthorn sat, and drew out a letter--the letter youngBransford had written to his father about a year before.

  "We've still got a chance," he told Silverthorn. And then he told thelatter of his suspicions about Sanderson.

  Silverthorn's eyes gleamed. "That's possible," he said, "but how areyou going to prove it?"

  "There's a way," returned Dale. He went to the door, and shouted thenames of two men, standing in the doorway until they came--the two menwho had accompanied him that morning. He spoke to them, briefly:

  "You're ridin' straight to Tucson as fast as your cayuses can take you.You ought to make it in a week. I'll give you that long. Find GaryMiller. Tell him I sent you, an' find out what he knows about youngBill Bransford. Then hit the breeze back. If it takes you more thantwo weeks I'll knock your damned heads off!"