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Updated: June 16, 2025
Duncan had decided to steer carefully away from any trouble with Dakota; he had even decided that as a measure for his own safety he must say nothing which would be likely to arouse Dakota's anger, but the jealous thoughts in his mind had finally gotten the better of prudence, and the menace in Dakota's voice angered him.
"You been in the habit of forming opinions of men you've never talked to?" said Duncan. He could not keep the sneer out of his voice. Langford noticed it and laughed softly. "It is my recollection that a certain man of my acquaintance advised me at length of Dakota's shortcomings," he said significantly. "For me to talk to Dakota after that would be to consider this man's words valueless.
Again Langford did not allow Duncan to see his smile, and he deftly directed the current of the conversation into other channels. He rode out again that day, taking the river trail and passing Dakota's cabin, but Dakota himself was nowhere to be seen and at dusk Langford returned to the Double R. During the evening meal he enveloped himself with a silence which proved impenetrable.
You didn't talk to father about that?" His lips curled. "Why don't you ask your father about that?" The hope died within her. Dakota's words and manner implied that her father had tried to employ him to make way with the nester, but that he had refused. She had not been wrong Duncan had not been wrong in his suspicion that her father was planning the death of the nester.
"Meaning that she ain't admiring you for nothing," flared Duncan incautiously, his jealously overcoming his better judgment. "Meaning that any woman which has been pulled out of a quicksand like you pulled her out might be expected to favor you with " The sunlight flashed on Dakota's pistol as it leaped from his right hand to his left and was bolstered with a jerk.
Langford's respect for him grew and he wisely kept silent, knowing that in time Dakota would answer. But when the answer did come it was not the one that Langford expected. Dakota's eyes met his in a level gaze. "Why don't you shoot him yourself?" he said, drawling his words a little. "Not taking any chances?"
"No," she returned calmly, "it is not a forgery. You forget that only a minute ago you practically admitted it to be a true agreement by telling me that I should have allowed Doubler to die. You are an accomplice in the shooting of Doubler, and if I am compelled to testify in Dakota's trial I shall tell everything I know."
Sleep was far from her, however, for she kept dwelling over and over on the odd fortune which had killed Blanca and allowed Dakota to live, when the latter's death would have brought to an end the distasteful relationship which his freakish impulse had forced upon her. She remembered Dakota's words in the cabin. Was Fate indeed running this game if game it might be called?
At last in the hour when my perplexity was greatest the decisive impetus came, brought by a chance visitor, a young clergyman from Portland, Maine, who arrived in the town to buy some farms for himself and a friend. Though a native of Madison Mr. Bashford had won a place in the east and had decided to put some part of his salary into Dakota's alluring soil.
In a gruff, coarse voice she broke forth: "Hin-hin, doe-skin! Hin-hin, Ermine, Ermine! Hin-hin, red blanket, with white border!" Not knowing that the syllables of a Dakota's cry are the names of loved ones gone, the ugly toad mother sought to please the boy's ear with the names of valuable articles.
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