Square Deal Sanderson Part 43

"He's at the Bar D, most likely. We'll get him!"

"I ain't takin' no chance of missin' him," Sanderson shot back at Nyland as they mounted their horses; "you fan it to Okar an' I'll head for his shack!"

Nyland's agreement to this plan was manifested by his actions. He said nothing, but rode beside Sanderson for a mile or so, then he veered off and rode at an angle which would take him to the neck of the basin, while Sanderson, turning slightly northward, headed Streak for Dale's ranch.

Halfway between the Double A and the neck of the basin, Nyland came upon the sheriff and his posse. The posse halted Nyland, thinking he might be Dale, but upon discovering the error allowed the man to proceed--after he had told them that Sanderson was safe and was riding toward the Bar D. Sanderson, Nyland said, was after Dale. He did not say that he, too, wanted to see Dale.

"Dale!" mocked the sheriff, "Barney Owen hung him!"

"Dale's alive, an' in Okar--or somewhere!" Nyland flung back at them as he raced toward town.

"I reckon we might as well go back," said the sheriff to his men. "The clean-up has took place, an' it's all over--or Sanderson wouldn't be back. We'll go back to Okar an' have a talk with Silverthorn. An'

mebbe, if Dale's around, we'll run into him."

The posse, led by the sheriff, returned to Okar. Within five minutes after his arrival in town the sheriff was confronting Silverthorn in the latter's office in the railroad station. The posse waited.

"It comes to this, Silverthorn," said the sheriff. "We ain't got any evidence that you had a hand in killing those men at Devil's Hole. But there ain't a man--an honest man--in town that ain't convinced that you did have a hand in it. What I want to say to you is this:

"Sanderson and Nyland are running maverick around the country tonight.

Nyland has killed Maison and is hunting for Dale. Sanderson and his men have cleaned up the bunch of guys that went out this morning to wipe Sanderson out. And Sanderson is looking for Dale. And after he gets Dale he'll come for you, for he's seeing red, for sure.

"I ain't interfering. This is one of the times when the law don't see anything--and don't want to see anything. I won't touch Nyland for killing Maison, and I won't lay a finger on Sanderson if he shoots the gizzard out of you. There's a train out of here in fifteen minutes. I give you your chance--take the train or take your chance with Sanderson!"

"I'll take the train," declared Silverthorn.

Fifteen minutes later, white and scared, he was sitting in a coach, cringing far back into one of the seats, cursing, for it seemed to him that the train would never start.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

A MAN GETS A SQUARE DEAL

Dale did not miss Ben Nyland by more than a few hundred yards as he pa.s.sed 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 s.p.a.ce 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 G.o.d'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?"