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Updated: May 9, 2025
And as for Dakota," he laughed harshly, with a note of suppressed triumph that filled her with an unaccountable resentment; "Dakota is an evil in the country, too. Do you remember how he killed that Mexican half-breed over in Lazette that day? the day I came? Wanton murder, I call it. Such a man is a danger and a menace, and I shall not be sorry to see him hanged for killing Doubler."
The big problem to Sanderson, however, was the question of money. He was aware that a vast sum would be required. Nearly all the money he possessed would be sunk in the preliminary work, and he knew that if the work was to go on he must borrow money. He couldn't get money in Okar, he knew that. He rode to Lazette and talked with a banker there. The latter was interested, but unwilling to lend.
Sanderson took the seven thousand dollars that Mary gave him, rode to Lazette a town fifty miles eastward from the basin -and deposited the money in a bank there. Then he rode eastward still farther and in another town discovered a young engineer with a grievance against his employers.
"The Lazette trail suits me too," he said; "we'll go that way." Masten looked at him again. The smile on Randerson's face was inscrutable. And now the pallor left Masten's cheeks and was succeeded by a color that burned. For he now was convinced and frightened.
Ben Nyland had gone to Lazette to attend to some business that had demanded his attention. He had delayed going until he could delay no longer. "I hate like blazes to go away an' leave you alone, here to face that beast, Dale, if he comes sneakin' around. But I reckon I've just got to go I can't put it off any longer.
Looking rather more rugged than when he had arrived at the station at Lazette two weeks before, his face tanned, but still retaining the smooth, sleek manner which he had brought with him from the East, David Dowd Langford sat in a big rocking chair on the lower gallery of the Double R ranchhouse, mentally appraising Duncan, who was seated near by, his profile toward Langford.
A little later he was kneeling at Masten's side, and still later he helped Masten to the saddle in front of him and set out again into the desert blackness toward the timber from which they both had burst some time before. Many hours afterward they came to the river, at the point where the Lazette trail intersected.
No morning in the East had ever made her feel quite like this. Out on the front porch later in the morning, with Chavis and Pickett standing near, she asked Masten to ride with her. He seemed annoyed, but spoke persuasively. "Put it off a day, won't you, Ruth? There's a good girl. I've promised to go to Lazette with the boys this morning, and I don't want to disappoint them."
At the same time, it was different. But he could not tell why. He liked to have Dade around him, and one day when the latter went to Lazette on some errand for Betty he felt queerly depressed and lonesome.
"I suppose there are none of that breed around here in Lazette, for instance. It struck me that Dakota was extraordinarily handy with a gun." He puffed long at his cigar and saw that, though Duncan did not answer, his face had grown suddenly dark with passion, as it always did when Dakota's name was mentioned. Langford smiled subtly. "I suppose," he said, "that Dakota might be called a bad man."
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