“Very well; your wishes shall be respected.  But it seems to me that the name Bransford is one be proud of!”

Sanderson grinned into his plate.  He felt more decent now than he had felt since arriving at the Double A. If he could continue to prevent her from showing any affection for him—­visible, at least—­he would feel that the deception he was practising was less criminal.  And when he went away, after settling the differences between Mary Bransford and Dale, he would have less to reproach himself with.

He did not see Mary again that morning.  Leaving the dining-room, he went outside, finding Barney Owen in the bunkhouse in the company of several other Double A men.

Owen introduced him to the other men—­who had ridden in to the ranchhouse the previous night, and were getting ready to follow the outfit wagon down the river into the basin to where the Double A herd was grazing.

Sanderson watched the men ride away, then he turned to Owen.

“I’m ridin’ to Las Vegas, to get a look at the will, an’ see what the records have got to say about the title to the Double A. Want to go?”

“Sure,” the little man grinned.

CHAPTER VIII

THE PLOTTERS

Riding down the gentle slope of the basin, Alva Dale maintained a sullen silence.  He rode far in advance of the two men who accompanied him, not listening to their voices, which occasionally reached him, not seeming to be aware of their presence.

Defeat had always brought bitterness to Dale; his eyes were glowing with a futile rage as he led his men homeward.

Dale’s scheme to dispose of Ben Nyland had been carefully planned and deftly carried out.  He had meant to hang Nyland, take possession of his property, and force Peggy to accept whatever conditions he cared to impose upon her.

The unlooked-for appearance of Mary Bransford’s brother had disturbed his plans.  As a matter of fact, the coming of Bill Bransford would make it necessary for Dale to make entirely new plans.

Dale was puzzled.  During the elder Bransford’s last days, and for a year or more preceding the day of Bransford’s death, Dale had professed friendship for him.  The pretense of friendship had resulted profitably for Dale, for it had enabled him to establish an intimacy with Bransford which had made it possible for Dale to learn much of Bransford’s personal affairs.

For instance, Dale had discovered that there was in Las Vegas no record of Mary Bransford’s birth, and though Bransford had assured him that Mary was his child, the knowledge had served to provide Dale with a weapon which he might have used to advantage—­had not Bill Bransford returned in time to defeat him.

Dale had heard the story of the trouble between Bransford and his son, Will; it was the old tale of father and son not agreeing, and of the son leaving home, aggrieved.