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Working swiftly, he changed his clothes. Then, after again looking at his reflection, he put out the light, stepped outside, locked the door, and mounted his horse. Riding a ridge above a shallow arroyo he came upon a little level near a grove of cottonwood trees. He circled one side of the grove, and in a clearing he saw the Nyland cabin.
"A ticket?" repeated Cecilia, "does Lady Nyland only admit her company with tickets?" "Oh, lord!" cried Miss Larolles, laughing immoderately, "don't you know what I mean? Why, a ticket is only a visiting card, with a name upon it; but we all call them tickets now." Cecilia thanked her for the information, and then Miss Larolles enquired how many miles she had travelled since morning?
Nyland got some water, for an hour he worked over the man, not to save his life, but to restore him to consciousness only long enough to question him. And at last his efforts were rewarded: the man opened his eyes, and they were swimming with the calm light of reason. He smiled faintly at Nyland. "Got me," he said. "Well, I don't care a whole lot.
That train brought him back to Okar late in the afternoon of the next day. Ben Nyland had been born and raised in the West, and he was of the type that had made the West the great supply store of the country. Rugged, honest, industrious, Ben Nyland had no ambitions beyond those of taking care of his sister which responsibility had been his since the death of his parents years before.
He said nothing, but rode beside Sanderson for a mile or so, then he veered off and rode at an angle which would take him to the neck of the basin, while Sanderson, turning slightly northward, headed Streak for Dale's ranch. Halfway between the Double A and the neck of the basin, Nyland came upon the sheriff and his posse.
I won't be pressin' no charge against Nyland. Take your rope off him an' turn him free. An' then mebbe you'll be accommodatin' enough to hit the breeze while the hittin's good for me an' Miss my sister's sort of figurin' on a reunion bein' disunited for so long." He looked at Dale with cold, unwavering eyes until the latter, sneering, turned and ordered his men to remove the rope from Nyland.
Nyland ran forward, peered into the man's face, saw that no more shooting on his part would be required, and then ran into the house to search for Peggy. She was not in the house a glance into each room told Nyland that. He went outside again, his face grim, and knelt beside the man. The latter's wound was fatal Nyland saw that plainly, for the bullet had entered his breast just above the heart.
The big man had his back turned to Sanderson, and when Sanderson reached him he leaned over his shoulder and said gently: "Look here, Dale." The latter wheeled, recognizing Sanderson's voice and snarling into the latter's face. "Well?" he demanded. Sanderson grinned mildly. "I reckon you've got to let Ben Nyland off, Dale he ain't guilty.
The posse halted Nyland, thinking he might be Dale, but upon discovering the error allowed the man to proceed after he had told them that Sanderson was safe and was riding toward the Bar D. Sanderson, Nyland said, was after Dale. He did not say that he, too, wanted to see Dale. "Dale!" mocked the sheriff, "Barney Owen hung him!" "Dale's alive, an' in Okar or somewhere!"
Many a big project has been ruined by men dragging a woman into it. You have no right to jeopardize this thing with a love affair. Peggy Nyland is desirable to a man of your intense passion, I suppose; but this project is bigger than any woman's love!" "Bah!" sneered Dale. "I can 'tend to her without losin' sight of the main object." "All right, then," laughed the other.
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