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Beginning with the following day, he meant to take charge of the ranch and run it as he knew it should be run. He had not been at the Double A long, but he had seen signs of shiftlessness here and there. He had no doubt that since Bransford's death the men had taken advantage of the absence of authority to relax, and the ranch had suffered. He would soon bring them back to a state of efficiency.
"For one thing, I suppose you are trying to decide why you didn't sign your name over in Las Vegas." Sanderson grinned mildly, but did not answer. He felt more at ease now, and the little man's impertinences did not bother him so much as formerly. He looked up, however, startled, when Owen said slowly: "Do you want me to tell you why you didn't sign Will Bransford's name to the affidavit?"
"Now we'll give him Will Bransford's signature just as he used to write it. I've seen it more times than any other man ever saw it, and I can duplicate it to a flourish. Give me the paper!" He sat down at a table, where there was a pen and a bottle of ink and wrote boldly: "Will Bransford." With a grin he passed the paper back.
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.
Meanwhile she talked rapidly, telling him of the elder Bransford's last moments, of incidents that had occurred during his absence from the ranch; of other incidents that had to do with her life at a school on the coast; of many things of which he was in complete ignorance.
Miss Bransford looked around appealingly; first at the pale, anemic little man with big eyes, who shifted his feet and looked uncomfortable; then her gaze went to Sanderson who, resting his left elbow on the pommel of the saddle, was watching her with squinting, quizzical eyes. There was an appeal in Miss Bransford's glance that made the blood leap to Sanderson's face.
If you'd only go an' stay at Bransford's while I'm gone I'd feel a heap easier in my mind." "I'm not a bit afraid," Peggy declared. "That last experience of Dale's with Sanderson has done him good, and he won't bother me again." That had been the conversation between Ben and Peggy as Ben got ready to leave.
Silverthorn was sitting at his desk scowling, his face pale with big, heavy lines in it showing the strain of his interview with Sanderson. "Bransford's been here!" guessed Dale, looking at Silverthorn. Silverthorn nodded, cursing. "You don't need to feel conceited," laughed Dale; "he's been to see me, too."
Not until he had written to Bransford, and received a reply, did he acquaint Burroughs with his decision to leave. As a matter of fact, Sanderson had delayed his leave-taking for more than a month after receiving Bransford's letter, being reluctant, now that his opportunity had come, to sever those relations that, he now realized, had been decidedly pleasant.
For instance, Dale had discovered that there was in Las Vegas no record of Mary Bransford's birth, and though Bransford had assured him that Mary was his child, the knowledge had served to provide Dale with a weapon which he might have used to advantage had not Bill Bransford returned in time to defeat him.
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