Square Deal Sanderson | Page 9

retreat from.
Then the big man's body began to relax, and a tinge of color came into his face. He grinned, malevolently, with forced lightness.
"Hell," he said; "you're damned particular! I'm runnin' things here, but I ain't Bransford!"
"I was reckonin' you wasn't," said Sanderson, mockingly. He now ignored the big man, and fixed his gaze on one of the women--the one he felt must be Mary Bransford.
He had found time, while talking with the big man, to look twice at the two women--and he had discovered they were not women at all, but girls. More, he had discovered that one of them looked as he had pictured her many times during the days since he had heard of her from the Drifter.
She was standing slightly aside from the men--and from the other girl. She was pale, her eyes were big and fright-laden, and since Sanderson's comings she had been looking at him with an intense, wondering and wistful gaze, her hands clasped over her breast, the fingers working stiffly.
Sanderson colored as he looked at her; he was wondering what she would say to him if she knew that he had come to the Double A purposely to see her, and that seeing her he was afflicted with a dismayed embarrassment that threatened to render him speechless.
For she more than fulfilled the promise of what he had expected of her. She was slightly above medium height, though not tall--a lissome, graceful girl with direct, frank eyes.
That was all Sanderson noted. Her hair, he saw, of course--it was done up in bulging knots and folds--and was brown, and abundant, and it made him gulp in admiration of it; but he could not have told what her features were like--except that they were what he expected them to be.
"I reckon you're Mary Bransford, ma'am?" he said to her.
The girl took a step toward him, unclasping her hands.
"Yes," she said rapidly, "It can't be that you--that you----"
The big man stepped between the girl and Sanderson, pushing the girl aside and standing before Sanderson. But he spoke to the girl.
"Look here," he said shortly; "I don't know what you two are goin' to palaver about, but whatever it is it's goin' to wait until what we set about to do is done." He looked at Sanderson. "Stranger, we ain't got no objections to you doin' all the lookin' you want to do. But keep your trap shut. Now, Miss Bransford," he continued, turning to the girl, "we'll get this trial over with. You say them steers which me an' my boys brought over an' put into your corral is Double A steers--that you're sure the brand is yours--an' the earmarks?"
"Ye-es," returned the girl slowly and hesitatingly.
While talking with Sanderson she had unclasped her hands, and now she clasped them again, twining the fingers with a quick, nervous motion. Again her eyes grew wide with fright, and Sanderson saw her looking at the other girl--he saw the other girl stiffen and stand straight, her lips curving scornfully as she returned Miss Bransford's gaze.
Sanderson's lips straightened. And now for the first time he gravely inspected the faces in the group near him.
Two men--cowboys--who stood near the big man, were evidently the "boys" referred to by the latter. Their faces were set and expressionless. Between them stood a rugged, well-built man of about twenty-two or three. His hands were tied behind him, a rope was around his neck, the free end coiled in the hands of one of the two men.
The young man's face was sullen, but his head was held very erect, and his eyes were steady and unwavering as he watched the big man.
The girl at whom Miss Bransford was looking stood near the young man. Sanderson saw her turn from Miss Bransford and look at the young man piteously, her lips quivering suspiciously.
There was another man in the group--an under-sized fellow, pale, emaciated, with big, troubled, and perplexed eyes. Sanderson saw that his hands were clenched, and that his thin lips were pressed so tightly together that they were blue and bloodless.
This man stood slightly apart from the others, as though he had no part in what was going on; though Sanderson could tell from his manner that he was laboring under an intense strain.
Miss Bransford and the big man were the opposing forces in what was transpiring--Sanderson knew that from Miss Bransford's manner of answering the big man's question. Her "yes" had been uttered reluctantly. Her testimony was damaging--she knew it, and her sympathies were with the young man with the rope around his neck.
Sanderson knew nothing of the motives that were actuating the people of this little drama, but he was entirely conscious of the visible forces that were at work.
Plainly, the big man had accused the captive of stealing cattle; he had brought