“Land.”
“Mine?” Dakota’s lips curled a little. “Doubler’s, then,” he added as Langford shook his head with an emphatic, negative motion. “He’s the only man who’s got land near yours.”
“That’s correct,” admitted Langford; “I want Doubler’s land.”
There was a silence for a few minutes, while Langford watched Dakota furtively as the latter gave his entire attention to his saddle.
“You’ve got all the rest of those things you spoke about, then—happiness, money, and such?” said Dakota presently, in a low voice.
“Yes. I am pretty well off there.”
“All you want is Doubler’s land?” He stopped working with the saddle and looked at Langford. “I reckon, if you’ve got all those things, that you ought to be satisfied. But of course you ain’t satisfied, or you wouldn’t want Doubler’s land. Did you offer to buy it?”
“I asked him to name his own figure, and he wouldn’t sell—wouldn’t even consider selling, though I offered him what I considered a fair price.”
“That’s odd, isn’t it? You’d naturally think that money could buy everything. But maybe Doubler has found happiness on his land. You couldn’t buy that from a man, you know. I suppose you care a lot about Doubler’s happiness—you wouldn’t want to take his land if you knew he was happy on it? Or don’t it make any difference to you?” There was faint sarcasm in his voice.
“As it happens,” said Langford, reddening a little, “this isn’t a question of happiness—it is merely business. Doubler’s land adjoins mine. I want to extend my holdings. I can’t extend in Doubler’s direction because Doubler controls the water rights. Therefore it is my business to see that Doubler gets out.”