Sanderson had no intention of submitting.
The deputy saw resistance in the gleam of Sanderson's eyes, and he spoke sharply, warningly: "Don't try any funny business; I've a dozen men here!" Sanderson laughed in his face.

He lunged forward, striking bitterly with the movement.

The deputy's body doubled forward--Sanderson's fist had been driven into his stomach.

His gun clattered to the floor; he reached out, trying to grasp Sanderson, who evaded him and struck upward viciously.
The deputy slid to the floor, and Sanderson stood beside the table, his gun menacing the deputy's followers.
Sanderson had worked fast.

Possibly the deputy's men had anticipated no resistance from Sanderson, or they had been stunned with the rapidity with which he had placed their leader out of action.
Not one of them had drawn a weapon.