“You’ve got Duncan to swear that he saw me do for Doubler, and you’ve got your daughter to testify that she saw me on the trail, coming from Doubler’s cabin right after she heard the shooting. It was a right clever scheme, but it was my fault for letting you get anything on me—I ought to have known that you’d try some dog’s trick or other.”
His voice was coming rapidly, sharply, and was burdened with a lashing sarcasm. “Yes, it’s a right clever scheme, Mister Langford, and it ought to be successful. But there’s one thing you’ve forgot. I’ve lived too long in this country to let anyone tangle me up like you’d like to have me. When a man gets double crossed in this country, he can’t go to the law for redress—he makes his own laws. I’m making mine. You’ve double crossed me, and damn your hide, I’m going to send you over the divide in a hurry!”
One of his heavy revolvers leaped from its holster and showed for an instant in his right hand. Sheila had been watching closely, forewarned by Dakota’s manner, and when she saw his right hand drop to the holster she sprang upon him, catching the weapon by the muzzle.
Langford had covered his face with his hands, and stood beside the desk, trembling, and Sheila cried aloud in protest when she saw Dakota draw the weapon that swung at his other hip, holding her off with the hand which she had seized. But when Dakota saw Langford’s hands go to his face he hesitated, smiling scornfully. He turned to Sheila, looking down at her face close to his, his smile softening.
“I forgot,” he said gently; “I forgot he is your father.”
“It isn’t that,” she said. “He isn’t my father, any more. But—” she looked at Dakota pleadingly—“please don’t shoot him. Go—leave the country. You have plenty of time. You have enough to answer for. Please go!”
For answer he grasped her by the shoulders, swinging her around so that she faced him,—as he had forced her to face him that day on the river trail—and there was a regretful, admiring gleam in his eyes.
“You told him—” he jerked a thumb toward Langford—“that you wouldn’t bear witness against me. I heard you. You’re a true blue girl, and your father’s a fool or he wouldn’t lose you, like he is going to lose you. If I had you I would take mighty good care that you didn’t get away from me. You’ve given me some mighty good advice, and I would act on it if I was guilty of shooting Doubler. But I didn’t shoot him—your father and Duncan have framed up on me. Doubler isn’t dead yet, and so I’m not running away. If Doubler had someone to nurse him, he might—” He hesitated and looked at her with a strange smile. “You think I shot Doubler, too, don’t you? Well, there’s a chance that if we can get Doubler revived he can tell who did shoot him. Do you want to know the truth? I heard you say a while ago, while I was standing at the window, looking in at your father giving a demonstration of his love for you, that you intended going over to Doubler’s shack to nurse him. If you’re still of the same mind, I’ll take you over there.”
Sheila was at the door in an instant, but halted on the threshold to listen to Dakota’s parting word to Langford.
“Mister man,” he said enigmatically, “there’s just one thing that I want to say to you. There’s a day coming when you’ll think thoughts—plenty of them.”