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Deadwood Dick Jr. Branded

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<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> THE THIRD STROKE. Deadwood Dick was as inexorable as fate. This the rascal knew, and he did not dare lift his head to ask further mercy. "Well what shall it be?" asked Bristol. "Will you sign all over to me, or shall the expose be made here and now? I give you the choice." "You will give me a chance?" "I give you that choice. I intend to crush you by degrees." "And if I do as you say—" "I will give you a respite of twelve hours." "I will do it. Cashier, tell that man the bank has to suspend. Put up a notice to close the doors." "Yes, sir!" "And say nothing about what you have seen in this room." "Yes, sir!" "And say to him, further, that he must return his check to the man who drew it," supplemented Card-Sharp Cale. The cashier withdrew. "Now, pard," remarked Dick to Susana, for it was she, of course. "Go and bring here two lawyers. Be as quick as you can, and this business shall be done in proper fashion." The girl withdrew, and Dick and his arch enemy were alone together. Captain Joaquin was silent. "When these lawyers come," explained the Dead-Set Detective, "you will be allowed to transfer your property by the name in which you hold it. Your real name need not yet appear. As I said, I give you a respite." "And my liberty during that respite?" "Yes." "It is all I ask." "And it is a great deal more than you deserve." In due time the lawyers were ushered in, and both greeted Banker Brown servilely. "Gentlemen," remarked the banker, "I am caught in a trap, and am obliged to wind up my affairs at once. I must transfer my possessions to this gentleman and—" "Ahem!" interrupted one of the lawyers. "Forced to suspend, eh? You want a receiver, that is all; let him take your affairs and straighten them out as best he can. Or, declare yourself bankrupt, and let your creditors get what they can—" "Probably Mr. Brown will do the business in his own way," suggested Deadwood Dick. "Certainly, certainly!" "The bulk of my obligation is to this gentleman—" "All of it, I think," from Dick. "I have gathered up every scrap of your paper." "Anyhow, I intend to deed over to him—" "The sum of fifty thousand dollars," interrupted Bristol. "All the rest of your property, real and personal, you will transfer to Susana Maxton, without reserve—" "He will do nothing of the kind!" asserted one of the lawyers. "There is a law in the land, sir, and—" "And he will do as he pleases, eh?" "It is forced." "Ask him if it is." "It is my will," avowed the cutthroat. "You will draw up papers according to my dictation, gentlemen." That settled the point. The papers were duly drawn and signed and attested, and the second move in the great[Pg 16] game had been made successfully. But, there was another yet to follow. <hr class="tb" /> It was night, and a man was softly stealing his way out of Powder Pocket. "Banker Brown," ruined, was trying to elude his mortal foe, and he believed he could do so. Little had been seen of Brown the remainder of the day, after the business transaction at the bank, and Card-Sharp Cale, and Joe, too, had disappeared. In disguise, as a miserable, hungry outcast, Captain Joaquin was trying to escape with his life, with a bitter resolve in his heart that, sooner or later, he would square the account with his implacable foe, Deadwood Dick. Out of camp he stole, unhindered, and off into the hills. For a time he used caution, but, at last, feeling that escape was assured, he ran, and did not stop until he was nearly breathless. "Curse you!" he panted, shaking his fist in the direction of the camp. "I have escaped, and you shall yet hear from me! Your inning this time, Dick Bristol, but mine will come!" He fairly gnashed his teeth in his impotent rage. "You are not done with Captain Joaquin," he vowed, in emphatic tone. "He will yet suck your life's blood from your veins—and yours, too, accursed Susana! It was all through you that this blow fell upon me. I will take to the road again; I will gather my men around me once more, and nothing shall stop my career." Of a sudden light flashed upon the scene, and a woman stood before him—Susana—with a leveled revolver! "I will not bear the blame that does not belong to me," she said, her voice firm, but her face pale. "There was a time when I could, and would, have followed you to death, but you blasted my love by your cruel suspicions. You wrongly accused me, and you would not show mercy where mercy was deserved. You turned my love to hate, and now I am your most bitter foe." "Ha! ha! ha!" the outlaw laughed. "So, wildcat, it is you? I am glad we have met, for my vengeance must begin with you. Drop that gun, or, by the stars above, I will drop you!" He dodged and drew his own weapons; but, in the same second, he was grabbed from behind by strong hands. It was in vain he struggled. "Did you hope to escape me?" asked Deadwood Dick. "You were a fool to think it. Do you know what is in store for you? Let me first bind your hands, and I will tell you." Dick was not alone; there were other men besides himself, who held the prisoner while Dick bound him. "There," he said, having tied the road-ruffian's hands, "now you are safe. Perhaps you remember what you did for me. Perhaps you remember this horseshoe. Perhaps you—" Captain Joaquin uttered a scream. "You do not mean to brand me!" "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," assured Dick. "Anything but that—anything but that! Shoot me, hang me, but do not brand me!" "Oh, it will hurt you no worse than it hurt me," averred Bristol, with a laugh. "If life is spared you, it may teach you a lesson of mercy to others. You are to be branded." The wretch cried, begged to be spared; but all to no purpose. Dick called his men around him and told them the story, and his decision met their hearty approval. Not only so, but Susana exhibited no sign of pity or mercy for the cowering wretch. A fire was made, and the horseshoe was heated. "Now," announced Dick, when all was ready, "I will repay you in your own coin. This is the very same iron that branded me, and, while I do not fancy wearing a brand the same as yours—or allowing you to wear one similar to mine, rather—yet justice demands it. I feel again that iron searing my flesh; I feel again the rope around my neck; I hear again your mocking laughter, you execrable villain!" "Have mercy! Have mercy!" "Yes, I will have mercy; I will not hang you. I will give you your life. Hand me the iron!" The victim writhed and screamed in anticipation of the acute agony he must suffer, as the iron was handed to Dick by a piece of wire caught in one of the nail holes. Dick Bristol took the wire and held the red-hot shoe over the bare breast of his foe, smiling at his plea for mercy and his request for death at once, speedy and sure. He held it near enough for its heat to be keenly felt, and the cries of the craven wretch for mercy were indeed pitiful. "Such mercy as you showed me!" reminded the detective. "I ought to brand your face with it instead of your breast. Suppose I lay it on your forehead and call you Cain? But, no, I will do no worse than you did to me. I will be merciful that far. When you feel it bite your flesh, when the smell of your own burning greets your nostrils, think of your own unmerciful act." Dick moved as if to lay the shoe on the bare flesh, but hesitated. He glanced at Susana. She was standing by, her eyes on the ground, not a muscle moving. He recalled how she had pleaded for him, and contrasted her silence now. What were her thoughts? He looked again at his writhing victim, and allowed the voice within him to speak—the voice that had been struggling to be heard, yet which had been suppressed by his iron will. "No, I will not!" he said, as if speaking to some one invisible to the others. "Let my punishment consist in showing mercy where mercy is not deserved." As he spoke, he flung the hot iron as far as he could among the bushes and boulders. "Thank God!" It was Susana, and she threw her arms around the detective's neck. "Not that I care for him," she said; "he deserved it, and I would not have lifted a finger; but I thank God that you are more merciful!" Dick kissed her, in turn, and ordered his men to lift the outlaw from the ground. This they did, and led him away. In due course the road-ruffian was found guilty and imprisoned for life. When Susana came into the property which had been deeded to her, and had turned it into cash, Bristol saw her safely to her friends, and there took leave of her. She had been a true pard, and he almost loved her. That she did love him was not to be doubted, and if ever he wanted a true friend he knew where to find one. THE END. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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