Square Deal Sanderson

by Charles Alden Seltzer

  CHAPTER XXVI

  A MAN IS HANGED

  Sanderson and Streak grew dim in the distance until, to the watchers atthe ranchhouse, horse and rider merged into a mere blot that crawled upthe long slope leading to the mesa. The watchers saw the blot yet alittle longer, as it traveled with swift, regular leaps along the edgeof the mesa; then it grew fainter and fainter, and at last they saw itno more.

  Dale's men, their backs to Owen and Mary, seemed to have accepted theirdefeat in a spirit of resignation, for they made no attempt to turntheir heads.

  Mary, white and shaking, though with a calmness that came from theknowledge that in this crisis she must do what she could, went insideand stood behind Owen, ready to respond to any call he might make uponher.

  Owen, his rage somewhat abated, though he still watched Dale and hismen with sullen, malevolent eyes, had changed his position. Mary hadbrought a chair, and Owen sat on it, the rifle still resting on thewindow-sill, menacing the men.

  The minutes, it seemed to the girl, passed with exceeding slowness.She watched the hands of a clock on a shelf in the room drag themselvesacross the face of the dial, and twice she walked in front of the shelfand peered intently at the clock, to be certain it was going.

  Williams and the other men had been gone for something more than anhour. But, as Owen had said, they would travel slowly, having noincentive for haste. Sanderson, on the other hand, would make Streakrun his best--and she knew Streak could run.

  So she began to estimate the time that would elapse before Sandersonand Williams returned. With an hour's start, she gave Sandersonthree-quarters of an hour to catch them. Then, three quarters of anhour additional would be required for the run home--if they came backas swiftly as Sanderson had gone.

  But she doubted that. She would give them a full hour for the returntrip. That would make an hour and three quarters.

  But it seemed to her that an age elapsed before the minute hand on theclock dragged itself one-quarter of the distance around the circle.

  She looked out at Dale and his men. The men were all standing, theirbacks to the house. But it seemed to the girl that they were standingnearer to one another than they had been all along, and a pulse oftrepidation ran over her.

  Watching them closely, Mary felt they were meditating some action.They were whispering to one another, and Dale was gesturing asemphatically as he could.

  The girl was certain they contemplated concerted action of some sort,and she was just about to apprise Owen of her fears, when she saw oneof the men--and then another and another--working with the ropes thatbound them. One of the men turned, a huge grin on his face. Shecaught the flash of metal in the man's hands, saw the rope fall fromthem, severed.

  She shouted, then, at Owen:

  "Look out, Barney; they've got a knife!"

  At the instant she spoke the men moved as though by prearrangement. Bythe time her voice reached Owen's ears the men had scattered, runningin all directions. Several ran directly away from the house, otherstoward it, some went toward the corners of the building nearest them.All were running zigzag fashion.

  Owen, his eyes blazing, fired three times in rapid succession. One ofthe men tumbled, headlong, turning over several times and landing facedownward on the sand of the yard; but several others, apparentlyuninjured, ran straight for the ranchhouse.

  There were no stationary targets for Owen to shoot at. By the time hehad fired the three shots the men were all moving. Several the girlsaw as they ran around the ranchhouse; three or four others ranstraight for the door in which she stood.

  She cried sharply to Owen, and the latter fired once, as three or fourfigures crossed the porch. The girl could not tell whether or not Dalewas one of the three, for the men moved quickly.

  Owen missed; Mary heard him curse. And before he had time to do eitheragain the men were inside. Mary was standing near Owen, and she hadreached down for one of the pistols that lay on the floor.

  By the time the men entered the door she had raised the weapon, and asthe first figure burst through the opening, she leveled the weapon andpulled the trigger.

  The gun went off, but did no apparent damage, and before she could fireagain the men were upon her. She threw the heavy weapon into the faceof the man nearest her--she did not look at him; and ran through thenearest door, which opened into the kitchen. She heard the man curseas the weapon struck him full in the face, and she knew, then, that shehad struck Dale.

  In the kitchen the girl hesitated. She would have gone outside, on thechance that the men there might not see her, but, hesitating at thekitchen door, she saw a big man running toward it.

  So she turned and ran into the room she used as a pantry, slamming thedoor behind her, bolting it and leaning against it, breathing heavily.

  She had not, however, escaped the eyes of the man who had been runningtoward the kitchen door. She heard Dale's voice, asking one of the menif he had seen her, and the latter answered:

  "She ducked into the pantry and closed the door."

  She heard a man step heavily across the kitchen floor, and an instantlater he was shoving against the door with a shoulder.

  "Bolted, eh?" he said with a short laugh. He walked away, andpresently returned. "Well, you'll keep," he said, "there ain't anywindows."

  She knew from his voice that the man was Dale. He had gone outside andhad seen there was no escape for her except through the door she hadbarred.

  There came a silence except for the movements of the men, and the lowhum of their voices. She wondered what had become of Owen, but she didnot dare unbolt the door for fear that Dale might be waiting on theother side of it. So, in the grip of a nameless terror she leanedagainst the door and waited.

  She heard Dale talking to his men; he was standing near the door behindwhich she stood, and she could hear him distinctly.

  "You guys hit the breeze after Sanderson. Kill him,--an' anybodythat's with him! Wipe out the whole bunch! I'll stay here an' makethe girl tell me where the coin is. Get goin', an' go fast, forSanderson will travel some!"

  The girl heard the boots of the men clatter on the floor as they wentout. Listening intently, she could hear the thudding of their horses'hoofs as they fled. She shrank back from the door, looking hard at it,wondering if it would hold, if it would resist Dale's efforts to burstit open--as she knew he would try to do.

  She wished, now, that she had followed Sanderson's suggestion aboutriding after Williams. This situation would not have been possible,then.

  Working feverishly, she piled against the door all the availablearticles and objects she could find. There were not many of them, andthey looked a pitifully frail barricade to her.

  A silence that followed was endured with her cringing against thebarricade. She had a hope that Dale would search for the money--thathe would find it, and go away without attempting to molest her. Butwhen she heard his step just outside the door, she gave up hope andstood, her knees shaking, awaiting his first movement.

  It came quickly enough. She heard him; saw the door give just a trifleas he leaned his weight against it.

  The movement made her gasp, and he heard the sound.

  "So you're still there, eh? Well, I thought you would be. Open thedoor!"

  "Dale," she said, desperately, "get out of here! I'll tell you wherethe money is--I don't want it."

  "All right," he said, "where is it?"

  "It's in the parlor; the packages are stuffed between the springs ofthe lounge."

  He laughed, jeeringly.

  "That dodge don't go," he said in a voice that made her feel clammy allover. "If it's there, all right. I'll get it. But the money canwait. Open the door!"

  "Dale," she said, as steadily as she could, "if you try to get in hereI shall kill you!"

  "That's good," he laughed; "you threw your gun at me. It hit me, too.Besides if you had a gun you'd be lettin' it off now--this door ain'tso thick that a bullet wouldn't go through it. Shoot!"


  Again there came a silence. She heard Dale walking about in thekitchen. She heard him place a chair near the wall which divided thepantry from the kitchen, and then for the first time she realized thatthe partition did not reach entirely to the ceiling; that it rose to aheight only a few feet above her head.

  She heard Dale laugh, triumphantly, at just the instant she looked atthe top of the partition, and she saw one of Dale's legs come over. Itdangled there for a second; then the man's head and shoulders appeared,with his hands gripping the top of the wall.

  She began to tear at the barricade she had erected, and had onlysucceeded in partially demolishing it, when Dale swung his body overthe wall and dropped lightly beside her.

  She fought him with the only weapons she had, her hands, not waitingfor him to advance on her, but leaping at him in a fury and strikinghis face with her fists, as she had seen men strike others.

  He laughed, deeply, scornfully, as her blows landed, mocking herimpotent resistance. Twice he seized her hands and swept them brutallyto her sides, where he held them--trying to grip them in one of his;but she squirmed free and fought him again, clawing at his eyes.

  The nails of her fingers found his cheek, gashing it deeply. The painfrom the hurt made him furious.

  "Damn you, you devil, I'll fix you!" he cursed. And in an access ofbestial rage he tore her hands from his face, crushed them to hersides, wrenching them cruelly, until she cried out in agony.

  Then, his face hideous, he seized her by the shoulders and crushed heragainst the outside wall, so that her head struck it and she saggedforward into his arms, unconscious.

  The lock on Barney Owen's rifle had jammed just as Dale entered theroom, following the rush of the men to the outside door. He hadselected Dale as his target.

  He tried for a fatal instant to work the lock, saw his error, and swungthe weapon over his head in an attempt to brain the man nearest him.The man dodged and the rifle slipped from Owen's hands and wentclattering to the floor. Then the man struck with the butt of one ofthe pistols he had picked up from the floor, and Owen went down in aheap.

  When he regained consciousness the room was empty. For a time he laywhere he had fallen, too dizzy and faint to get to his feet; and thenhe heard Dale's voice, saying:

  "A bullet wouldn't go through it. Shoot!"

  At the sound of Dale's voice a terrible rage, such as had seized Owenat the moment he had stuck the rifle through the window, gripped himnow, and he sat up, swaying from the strength of it. He got to hisfeet, muttering insanely, and staggered toward the kitchen door--fromthe direction in which Dale's voice seemed to come.

  It took him some time to reach the door, and when he did get there hewas forced to lean against one of the jambs for support.

  But he gained strength rapidly, and peering around the door jamb he wasjust in time to see Dale step on a chair and lift himself over thepartition dividing the kitchen from the pantry.

  Owen heard the commotion that followed Dale's disappearance over thepartition; he heard the succeeding crashes and the scuffling. Thencame Dale's voice:

  "Damn you, you devil, I'll fix you!"

  Making queer sounds in his throat, Owen ran into the sitting-room wherethe weapons taken from the men had been piled. They were not there.He picked up the rifle. By some peculiar irony the lock worked allright for him now, but a quick look told him there were no morecartridges in the magazine. He dropped the rifle and looked wildlyaround for a another weapon.

  He saw a lariat hanging from a peg on the kitchen wall. It wasSanderson's rope--Owen knew it. Sanderson had oiled it, and had hungit from the peg to dry.

  Owen whined with joy when he saw it. His face working, odd gutturalsounds coming from his throat, Owen leaped for the rope and pulled itfrom the peg. Swiftly uncoiling it, he glanced at the loop to makesure it would run well; then with a bound he was on the chair andpeering over the top of the partition, the rope in hand, the noosedangling.

  He saw Dale directly beneath it. The Bar D man was standing over MaryBransford. The girl was on her back, her white face upturned, her eyesclosed.

  Grinning with hideous joy, Owen threw the rope. The loop opened,widened, and dropped cleanly over Dale's head.

  Dale threw up both hands, trying to grasp the sinuous thing that hadencircled his neck, but the little man jerked the rope viciously andthe noose tightened. The force of the jerk pulled Dale off hisbalance, and he reeled against the partition.

  Before he could regain his equilibrium Owen leaned far over the top ofthe partition. Exerting the last ounce of his strength Owen lifted,and Dale swung upward, swaying like an eccentric pendulum, his feetwell off the floor.

  Dale's back was toward the wall, and he twisted and squirmed like a catto swing himself around so that he could face it.

  During the time Dale struggled to turn, Owen moved rapidly. Leapingoff the chair, keeping the rope taut over the top of the partition,Owen ran across the kitchen and swiftly looped the end of the ropearound a wooden bar that was used to fasten the rear outside door.

  Then, running into the front room, he got the rifle, and returning tothe kitchen he got on the chair beside the partition.

  He could hear Dale cursing. The man's legs were thrashing about,striking the boards of the partition. Owen could hear his breath as itcoughed in his throat. But the little man merely grinned, and crouchedon the chair, waiting.

  He was waiting for what he knew would come next. Dale would succeed intwisting his body around before the rope could strangle him, he wouldgrasp the rope and pull himself upward until he could reach the top ofthe partition with his hands.

  And while Owen watched and waited, Dale's hands came up and gripped thetop of the wall--both hands, huge and muscular. Owen looked at themwith great glee before he acted. Then he brought the stock of therifle down on one of the hands with the precision of a colddeliberation that had taken possession of him.

  Dale screamed with the pain of the hurt, then cursed. But he stillgripped the top of the partition with the other hand.

  Owen grinned, and with the deliberation that had marked the previousblow he again brought the rifle stock down, smashing the remaininghand. That, too, disappeared, and Dale's screaming curses filled thecabin.

  Owen waited. Twice more the hands came up, and twice more Owen crushedthem with the rifle butt. At last, though Owen waited for some time,the hands came up no more. Then, slowly, cautiously, Owen stuck hishead over the top of the partition.

  Dale's head had fallen forward; he was swinging slowly back and forth,his body limp and lax.