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Updated: May 19, 2025
Banker Braman had closed the door between the front and rear rooms, pulled down the shades of the windows, lighted the kerosene lamp, and by its wavering flicker was surveying his reflection in the small mirror affixed to one of the walls of the building.
He knew well that Judge Graney's mission to Washington would result in failure unless the deed to his property could be recovered, or the original record disclosed. Even then, with a weak and dishonest judge on the bench the issue might be muddled by a mass of legal technicalities. The court order permitting Braman to operate a mine on his property goaded him to fury.
"Well, then," she laughed, exulting in her power over him; "let's get busy. What do you want to chin about?" "I'll tell you after I've wet my whistle," said the banker, gayly. "I'm dry as a bone in the middle of the Sahara desert!" "I'll take mine 'straight," she laughed. Braman rang a bell.
Get them here, first. Then " The banker licked his lips. "How does old Benham take it?" "Mr. Benham is enthusiastic because everything will be done in a perfectly legitimate way he thinks." "And the courts?" "Judge Lindman, of the District Court now in Dry Bottom, is going to establish himself here. Benham pulled that string." "Good!" said Braman. "When is Lindman coming?"
He's tried to steal all our land; he's corrupted our court, nearly guzzled Judge Lindman to death, killed Braman an' Barkwell says the bunch of pluguglies he hired to pose as deputies, has killed Clay Levins an' four or five of the Diamond K men. That's plenty. We'd admire to give in to you. We'll do anything else you say. But this has got to be done."
He looked at Corrigan while Braman examined the paper, his eyes alight with the mocking, unfearing gleam that had been in them during the fight. Corrigan scowled and Trevison grinned at him the indomitable, mirthless grin of the reckless fighting man; and Corrigan filled his lungs slowly, watching him with half-closed eyes.
But he drew his breath tremulously. One could never be sure of Corrigan. "I spent the night here in the back room." "Then you didn't see the Judge last night or hear him?" "No." Corrigan drew the Judge's letter from the pocket and passed it over to Braman, watching his face steadily as he read. He saw a quick stain appear in the banker's cheeks, and his own lips tightened.
"That's all right," said Corrigan; "you're perfectly safe here." He talked in low tones to the man, so that Braman could not hear. Levins departed shortly afterwards, grinning crookedly, tucking a piece of paper into a pocket, upon which Corrigan had transcribed something that had been written on the cuff of his shirt sleeve. Corrigan went to his desk and busied himself with some papers.
The light told him that Braman was in the rear room. Selecting a moment when the street in his vicinity was deserted, Corrigan deliberately crossed, standing for a moment in the shadow of the bank building, looking around him. Then he slipped around the building and tapped cautiously on the rear door. An instant later he was standing inside the room, his back against the door.
Later they smoked and talked and watched while the afternoon sun grew mellow; while the somber twilight descended over the world and darkness came and obliterated the hill on which sat the rider of the black horse. Shortly after dark Corrigan sent the banker on another errand, this time to a boarding-house at the edge of town. Braman returned shortly, announcing: "He'll be ready."
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