“And sentiment has got no place in business. That right? It doesn’t make any difference to you that Doubler doesn’t want to sell; you want his land, and that settles it—so far as you are concerned. You don’t consider Doubler’s feelings. Well, I don’t know but that’s the way things are run—one man keeps what he can and another gets what he is able to get. What are you figuring to do about Doubler?”
Langford glanced at Dakota with an oily, significant smile. “I am new to the country, my friend,” he said. “I don’t know anything about the usual custom employed to force a man to give up his land. Could you suggest anything?”
Dakota deliberately took up a wax-end, rolled it, and squinted his eyes as he forced the end of the thread through the eye of the needle which he held in the other hand. So far as Langford could see he exhibited no emotion whatever; his face was inscrutable; he might not have heard.
Yet Langford knew that he had heard; was certain that he grasped the full meaning of the question; probably felt some emotion over it, and was masking it by appearing to busy himself with the saddle. 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?” Dakota’s voice was filled with a cold sarcasm as he continued, after an interval during which Langford kept a discreetly still tongue. “Your business principles don’t take you quite that far, eh? And so you’ve come over to get me to shoot him? Why didn’t you say so in the beginning—it would have saved all this time.” He laughed coldly.
“What makes you think that you could hire me to put Doubler out of business?”
“I saw you shoot Blanca,” said Langford. “And I sounded Duncan.” It did not disturb him to discover that Dakota had all along been aware of the object of his visit. It rather pleased him, in fact, to be given proof of the man’s discernment—it showed that he was deep and clever.
“You saw me shoot Blanca,” said Dakota with a strange smile, “and Duncan told you I was the man to put Doubler away. Those are my recommendations.” His voice was slightly ironical, almost concealing a slight harshness. “Did Duncan mention that he was a friend of mine?” he asked. “No?” His smile grew mocking. “Just merely mentioned that I was uncommonly clever in the art of getting people—undesirable people—out of the way. Don’t get the idea, though, because Duncan told you, that I make a business of shooting folks. I put Blanca out of the way because it was a question of him or me—I shot him to save my own hide. Shooting Doubler would be quite another proposition. Still——” He looked at Langford, his eyes narrowing and smoldering with a mysterious fire.
It seemed that he was inviting Langford to make a proposal, and the latter smiled evilly. “Still,” he said, repeating Dakota’s word with a significant inflection, “you don’t refuse to listen to me. It would be worth a thousand dollars to me to have Doubler out of the way,” he added.