Square Deal Sanderson by Charles Alden Seltzer (fiction book recommendations TXT) 📕

An' what kind of grub is it that a man in love wants most?"

She caught his meaning, now, and blushed rosy red, drooping her eyes from his.

"That wasn't fair, Sanderson," she said lowly. "Besides, a man can't live on kisses."

"I know a man who can," he smiled, his eyes eager and glowing, now that he saw she was not going to repel him; "that is," he added lowly, "if he could find a cook that would give them to him whenever he wanted them. But it would take a lot of them, an' they'd have to be given with the cook's consent. Do you think you could——"

He paused and looked at her, for her eyes were shining and her lips were pursed in a way that left no doubt of the invitation.

"Why, Mary!" he said, as he caught her in his arms.

For a time the money lay on the table unnoticed and forgotten, and there was an eloquent silence in the kitchen.

A little later, Barney Owen, passing close to the kitchen window—having seen the men caring for Sanderson's horse, and learning from them that Sanderson had come in early after having apparently been out all night—heard Sanderson's voice issuing from the kitchen:

"There's a difference in kisses; them that you gave me when you thought I was your brother wasn't half so thrillin' as——"

Owen stiffened and stood rigid, his face whitening.

And then again he heard Sanderson's voice:

"There's a judge in Okar—Judge Graney. An' if you'd consider gettin' married today, ma'am, why——"

"Why, Sanderson!" came Mary's voice in mild reproof.

"Well, then," sounded Sanderson's voice, full of resignation this time; "have it your way; I don't want to hurry you."

"Hurry me? Oh, no!" laughed the girl in gentle mockery. Whereat they both laughed. The sound of it must have pleased Owen, for he, too, laughed as he left the window and went toward the bunkhouse.

An hour later Sanderson emerged from the house, threw saddle and bridle on Streak, and rode out into the basin to a camp where he found Kent Williams and his men. He gave the engineer the package of bills he had taken from the table.

"Here is ten thousand dollars," he said. "You take your men, ride over to Lazette, get your supplies, an' hustle them right back here. It ain't likely there'll be any more trouble, but we ain't takin' any chances. My men ain't got any more cattle to bother with, an' they'll go with you an' your men to Lazette, an' come back with the wagons to see that they ain't interfered with. Start as soon as you can get ready."

"Within an hour the engineer, his men, and the men of the Double A outfit were on the move. Barney Owen did not go. He sat on one of the top rails of the corral fence, alternately watching the men of the outfit as they faded into the vast space toward Lazette, and Mary Bransford and Sanderson, as they stood on the porch, close together, likewise watching the men.

"I'd say—if anyone was to ask me—that there is a brother who seems to have been forgotten," said Owen with a curious smile.

CHAPTER XXV A MAN IS AROUSED

The coming of the dawn and the comforting contact with other human beings, brought Banker Maison relief from the terrifying fear that had gripped him during the night. He became almost courageous after breakfast, and began to think that perhaps he had yielded too readily to Sanderson's demands.

As the hours passed and the memory of the night's horror grew more distant, he began to feel indignant over the treatment accorded him by Sanderson. Later the indignation grew to a deep and consuming rage, and he entertained thoughts of his power and influence and of the comparative 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 grew his rage. He even condoned Dale's action in bringing the Nyland girl to his rooms. Dale was his friend, and he would protect him!

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

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

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

"We've got to put Sanderson out of the way, and do it quickly!" he declared. "And we've got to get that money back. Dale, you're a deputy sheriff. Damn the law! This isn't a matter for court action—that damned Graney wouldn't give us a warrant for Sanderson now, no matter what we told him! We've got to take the law into our own hands. We'll see if this man can come in here, rob a bank, and get away without being punished!"

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

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

Sanderson and Mary Bransford had not yet settled the question regarding the disposal of the money Sanderson had received from Banker Maison. They sat on the edge of the porch, talking about it. From a window of the 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 in the Lazette bank. They've tied it up so nobody will be able to touch it until half the lawyers in the county have had a chance to gas about it. An' by that time there won't be a two-bit piece left to argue over. No, siree, you've got to keep that coin where you can put your hands on it when you want it!"

"When you want it," she smiled. "Do you know, Deal," she added seriously, blushing as she looked at him, "that our romance has been so much different from other romances that I've heard about. It has seemed 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 a girl that he takes a shine to—an' the girl takes a shine to him—there ain'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 was tellin' 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 the subject?"

"I—I think that even while I thought you were my brother, I realized that my feeling for you was strange and unusual; though I laid it to the fact that I had never had a brother, and therefore could not be expected to know just how a sister should feel toward one. But it has all 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 considered unusual. But love ain't unusual; an' a man fightin' for the woman he loves ain't unusual."

While he had been talking a change had come over him. His voice had lost its note of gentle raillery, his lips had straightened into hard lines, his eyes were glowing with the light she had seen in them more than 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, and drew a full breath.

"The fightin' ain't over yet," he said. "There's a bunch of guys comin' toward the Double A. Dale's gang, most likely—after the money I took from Maison."

She was on her feet now, and looking out into the basin. Two or three miles 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 gently released himself, and taking her by the shoulders forced her through a door and into the sitting-room.

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

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

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 on Streak—he'll outrun any horse in the county! Go! Get Williams and the other boys. Deal!" She shook him frenziedly. "It isn't the money they are after—it's you! They'll kill you, Deal! And there are so many of them! Run—run!"

He grinned, patting her shoulder as he led her out upon the porch and forced 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 porch column and leaned against it, turning to smile at Mary.

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

Rigid in her chair, the girl watched the riders swoop toward the ranchhouse; Sanderson, lounging against the porch column, smiled saturninely.

The riders headed directly toward the porch. Sanderson counted them as they came to a halt within thirty feet of the edge of the porch. There were twenty of them.

Dale, his face flushed, his eyes alight with triumph, dismounted and stepped forward, halting at the edge of the porch and sweeping his hat from 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 with him ninety thousand dollars of the bank's money. Me an' my men has come over to get the money—an' Mr. Sanderson. The Okar court allows that 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. The latter's face did not change color, nor did he shift his position in the 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's gang. 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't carin' a damn whether you do or not! We've got you, right where we want you. I've got a warrant, an' you'll come peaceable or we'll plant you! There ain't