"The other day your father was speaking to me about gun-men. I told him
that Dakota would do anything for money."

A slow red appeared in Sheila's cheeks, mounted to her temples,
disappeared entirely and was succeeded by a paleness. She kept her gaze
averted, and Duncan could not see her eyes--they were turned toward the
slumberous plains that stretched away into the distance on the other side
of the river. But Duncan knew that he had scored, and was not bothered
over the possibility of there being little truth in his implied charge. He
watched her, gloating over her, certain that at a stroke he had
effectually eliminated Dakota as a rival.

Sheila turned suddenly to him. "How do you know that Dakota would do
anything like that?"

Duncan smiled as he saw her lips, straight and white, and tightening
coldly.

"How do I know?" he jeered. "How does a man know anything in this country?
By using his eyes, of course. I've used mine. I've watched Dakota for five
years. I've known all along that he isn't on the square--that he has been
running his branding iron on other folks' cattle. I've told you that he
worked a crooked deal on me, and then sent Blanca over the divide when he
thought there was a chance of Blanca giving the deal away. I am told that
when he met Blanca in the Red Dog Blanca told him plainly that he didn't
know anything about the calf deal. That shows how he treats his friends.
He'll do anything for money.

"The other day I saw your father at his cabin, talking to him. They had
quite a confab. Your father has had trouble with Doubler--you know that.
He has threatened to run Doubler off the Two Forks. I heard that myself.
He wouldn't try to run Doubler off himself--that's too dangerous a
business for him to undertake. Not wanting to take the chance himself he
hires someone else. Who? Dakota's the only gunman around these parts.
Therefore, your dad goes to Dakota. He and Dakota signed a paper--I saw
Dakota reading it. I've just put two and two together, and that's the
result. I reckon I ain't far out of the way."

Sheila laughed as she might have laughed had someone told her that she
herself had plotted to murder Doubler--a laugh full of scorn and mockery.
Yet in her eyes, which were wide with horror, and in her face, which was
suddenly drawn and white, was proof that Duncan's words had hurt her
mortally.

She was silent; she did not offer to defend Dakota, for in her thoughts
still lingered a recollect