Square Deal Sanderson Read online

  CHAPTER V

  WATER AND KISSES

  For several seconds Dale did not speak. A crimson stain appeared abovethe collar of his shirt and spread until it covered his face and neck,leaving his cheeks poisonously bloated and his eyes glaring.

  But the steady eyes and the cold, deliberate demeanor of Sanderson didmuch to help Dale regain his self-control--which he did, while MaryBransford, running forward, tried to throw her arms around Sanderson'sneck. She was prevented from accomplishing this design by Sandersonwho, while facing Dale, shoved the girl away from him, almost roughly.

  "There's time for that after we've settled with Dale," he told the girlgruffly.

  Dale had recovered; he sneered. "It's easy enough to make a claim likethat, but it's another thing to prove it. How in hell do we knowyou're Bill Bransford?"

  Sanderson's smile was maddening. "I ain't aimin' to prove nothin'--toyou!" he said. But he reached into a pocket, drew out the two lettershe had taken from the real Bransford's pocket, and passed them back toMary Bransford, still facing Dale.

  He grinned at Dale's face as the latter watched Mary while she read theletters, gathering from the scowl that swept over the other's lips thatMary had accepted them as proof of his identity.

  "You'll find the most of that thousand you sent me in my slicker," hetold the girl. And while Mary ran to Streak, unstrapped the slicker,tore it open, and secured the money, Sanderson watched Dale's face,grinning mockingly.

  "O Will--Will!" cried the girl joyously behind Sanderson.

  Sanderson's smile grew. "Seems to prove a heap, don't it?" he said toDale. "I know a little about law myself. I won't be pressin' nocharge against Nyland. Take your rope off him an' turn him free. An'then mebbe you'll be accommodatin' enough to hit the breeze while thehittin's good--for me an' Miss--my sister's sort of figurin' on areunion--bein' disunited for so long."

  He looked at Dale with cold, unwavering eyes until the latter,sneering, turned and ordered his men to remove the rope from Nyland.With his hands resting idly on his hips he watched Dale and the menride away. Then he shook hands mechanically with Nyland, permittedPeggy to kiss him--which she did fervently, and led her brother away.Then Sanderson turned, to see Mary smiling and blushing, not more thantwo or three feet distant.

  He stood still, and she stepped slowly toward him, the blush on herface deepening.

  "Oh," she said as she came dose to him and placed her hands on hisshoulders, "this seems positively brazen--for you seem like a strangerto me."

  Then she deliberately took both his cheeks in her hands, stood on thetips of her toes and kissed him three or four times, squarely on thelips.

  "Why, ma'am--" began Sanderson.

  "Mary!" she corrected, shaking him.

  "Well, ma'am--Mary, that is--you see I ain't just----"

  "You're the dearest and best brother that ever lived," she declared,placing a hand over his mouth, "even though you did stay away for somany years. Not another word now!" she warned as she took him by anarm and led him toward the ranchhouse; "not a word about anything untilyou've eaten and rested. Why, you look tired to death--almost!"

  Sanderson wanted to talk; he wanted to tell Mary Bransford that he wasnot her brother; that he had assumed the role merely for the purpose ofdefeating Dale's aim. His sole purpose had been to help Mary Bransfordout of a difficult situation; he had acted on impulse--an impulseresulting from the pleading look she had given him, together with theknowledge that she had wanted to save Nyland.

  Now that the incident was closed, and Nyland saved, he wanted to makehis confession, be forgiven, and received into Mary's good graces.

  He followed the girl into the house, but as he halted for an instant onthe threshold, just before entering, he looked hack, to see the little,anemic man standing near the house, looking at him with an odd smile.Sanderson flushed and made a grimace at the little man, whereat thelatter's smile grew broad and eloquent.

  "What's eatin' him, I wonder?" was Sanderson's mental comment. "Helooked mighty fussed up while Dale was doin' the talkin'. Likely he'sjust tickled--like the rest of them."

  Mary led Sanderson into the sitting-room to a big easy-chair, shovedhim into it, and stood behind him, running her fingers through hishair. Meanwhile she talked rapidly, telling him of the elderBransford's last moments, of incidents that had occurred during hisabsence from the ranch; of other incidents that had to do with her lifeat a school on the coast; of many things of which he was in completeignorance.

  Desperate over his inability to interrupt her flow of talk, consciousof the falseness of his position, squirming under her caresses, andcursing himself heartily for yielding to the absurd impulse that hadplaced him in so ridiculous a predicament, Sanderson opened his month adozen times to make his confession, but each time closed it again,unsuccessful.

  At last, nerved to the ordeal by the knowledge that each succeedingmoment was making his position more difficult, and his ultimate pardonless certain, he wrenched himself free and stood up, his face crimson.

  "Look here, ma'am----"

  "Mary!" she corrected, shaking a finger at him.

  "Mary," he repeated tonelessly, "now look here," he went on hoarsely."I want to tell you that I ain't the man you take me to be. I'm----"

  "Yes, you are," she insisted, smiling and placing her hands on hisshoulders. "You are a real man. I'll wager Dale thinks so; and PeggyNyland, and Ben. Now, wait!" she added as he tried to speak. "I wantto tell you something. Do you know what would have happened if you hadnot got here today?

  "I'll tell you," she went on again, giving him no opportunity to injecta word. "Dale would have taken the Double A away from me! He told meso! He was over here yesterday, gloating over me. Do you know what heclaims? That I am not a Bransford; that I am merely an adopteddaughter--not even a legally adopted one; that father just took me,when I was a year old, without going through any legal formalities.

  "Dale claims to have proof of that. He won't tell me where he got it.He has some sort of trumped-up evidence, I suppose, or he would nothave talked so confidently. And he is all-powerful in the basin. Heis friendly with all the big politicians in the territory, and isruthless and merciless. I feel that he would have succeeded, if youhad not come.

  "I know what he wants; he wants the Double A on account of the water.He is prepared to go any length to get it--to commit murder, ifnecessary. He could take it away from me, for I wouldn't know how tofight him. But he can't take it away from you, Will. And he can't sayyou have no claim to the Double A, for father willed it to you, and thewill has been recorded in the Probate Court in Las Vegas!

  "O Will; I am _so_ glad you came," she went on, stroking and pattinghis arms. "When I spoke to you the first time, out there by thestable, I was certain of you, though I dreaded to have you speak forfear you would say otherwise. And if it hadn't been you, I believe Ishould have died."

  "An' if you'd find out, now, that I ain't Will Bransford," saidSanderson slowly, "what then?"

  "That can't be," she said, looking him straight in the eyes, andholding his gaze for a long time, while she searched his face for signsof that playful deceit that she expected to see reflected there.

  She saw it, evidently, or what was certainly an excellent counterfeitof it--though Sanderson was in no jocular mood, for at that moment hefelt himself being drawn further and further into the meshes of thetrap he had laid for himself--and she smiled trustfully at him, drawinga deep sigh of satisfaction and laying her head against his shoulder.

  "That can't be," she repeated. "No man could deceive a woman likethat!"

  Sanderson groaned, mentally. He couldn't confess now and at the sametime entertain any hope that she would forgive him.

  Nor could he--knowing what he knew now of Dale's plans--brutally tellher the truth and leave her to fight Dale single-handed,

  And there was still another consideration to deter him from making aconfession. By impersonating her brother he had raised her ho
pes high.How could he tell her that her brother had been killed, that he hadburied him in a desolate section of a far-off desert after taking hispapers and his money?

  He felt, from her manner when he had tentatively asked her to considerthe possibility of his not being her brother, that the truth would killher, as she had said.

  Worse, were he now to inform her of what had happened in the desert,she might not believe him; she might indeed--considering that healready had dealt doubly with her--accuse him of being her brother'smurderer!

  Again Sanderson groaned in spirit. To confess to her would be todestroy her; to withhold the confession and to continue to impersonateher brother was to act the role of a cad.

  Sanderson hesitated between a choice of the two evils, and was lost.For she gave him no time for serious and continued thought. Taking himby an arm she led him into a room off the sitting-room, shoving himthrough the door laughingly.

  "That is to be your room," she said. "I fixed it up for you more thana month ago. You go in there and get some sleep. Sleep until dusk.By that time I'll have supper ready. And then, after supper, there areso many things that I want to say to you. So get a good sleep!"

  She closed the door and went out, and Sanderson sank into a chair.Later, he locked the door, pulled the chair over near a window--fromwhich he got a good view of the frowning butte at the edge of thelevel--and stared out, filled with a sensation of complete disgust.

  "Hell," he said, after a time, "I'm sure a triple-plated boxhead, an'no mistake!"