by Ray Tassin
"How can we build even a small granary, much less one big enough to do the job, without any money? And even if we could borrow the money, how could we build it in time for this year's crop?"
Another wrangle followed, centered on the two points plus the fact that all the grangers needed ready cash now for current living expenses.
Danner began to squirm in his chair. He was about ready to slip out of the hall when McDaniel jumped up to claim the floor. Instantly all talk subsided, for McDaniel was a man widely respected despite his association with Danner.
"Now," McDaniel began, faltering self consciously, "I don't know what to do about all of this, but I think maybe my partner, Jeff Danner, might have an idea. I haven't talked to him about it, but just before the meeting started he told me he had a plan. I think we ought to listen to what he has to say."
Danner breathed a curse, wishing he had left earlier. Glancing about, he saw only suspicion and hostility.
Olie growled at him. "Well speak up, Danner. What's this big plan of yours?"
Without getting up, Danner shook his head. "Nothing."
"Huh," Olie straightened. "If you have an idea, let's hear it."
Reluctantly, Danner rose to his feet. "It would be a good thing for you men to build your own granary—but do it for next year with proceeds from this year's crop—at least, with that portion of your cash which you don't need for living expenses."
Not a sound came from the crowd. Even Olie managed to keep silent.
"As for this season," Danner continued, "you can do what you want to. Billy and I are going to ship our grain to the mill at Junction City."
This brought a response from the gathering that took Olie two minutes to quell. Danner stood quietly, unable to note any signs of approval, but not caring. He pulled the telegram from his pocket.
"Yesterday I sent a wire to the granary at Junction City. This is the answer." He held the folded paper aloft. "They'll pay us the same market price Browder offers, and pay the cost of shipping it there by railroad, so we can't lose."
"How do we know we'll get an honest weigh-in from them?" Olie challenged. Heads nodded throughout the hall. Danner felt tempted to sit down, but the challenge irritated him.
"I know that one boxcar holds exactly 116,000 pounds of wheat. It doesn't take much intelligence to multiply that figure by the number of boxcars used. You could assure yourselves of the same thing by sending a few telegrams to granary operators in various cities, or asking any railroader."
A few heads nodded agreement now, but many others seemed to be holding back judgment. If anyone else had suggested it, they would be jumping at the idea, Danner thought. He started to sit down and another question reached him, this time from the old stringbean, Gustafson.
"How could we keep each man's wheat separate if we sent it in boxcar lots?"
Danner grinned faintly. "You can weigh each wagonload on the railroad scales before you put it in the cars. This would not only show what each man had coming to him, but all the individual weights could be totaled and checked against the number-of-cars estimate and the weigh-in at Junction City. That would be a three-way check."
"I don't know," growled Olie. "It sounds all-fired simple." And he lowered his head in thought. The rest of the grangers seemed to be waiting for his decision. Finally, he looked at Danner narrowly.
"I thought you had a falling out with the railroad. How come you to be drumming up business for them?" Suspicion gleamed in his eyes, a feeling mirrored on the faces of many others about the room.
Danner felt the weight of the silent stares aimed at him.
"In the first place," he said, "I've only been telling you what Billy and I intend to do with our crop. You do what suits you best. In the second place, my dispute with the new railroad man was a personal matter just between the two of us. I'm not going to allow it to keep me from making money for myself. If the railroad makes a little profit also, and from the Junction City granary instead of me, that's agreeable with me."
Abruptly, he whirled and tramped out of the hall. A rumble of sound followed him into the hotel lobby and he didn't get completely away from it until he reached the board sidewalk.
In the Silver Dollar Saloon, Danner elbowed his way roughly to the bar and ordered a cold beer. He drank the beer, then cruised the main street, looking for Lona. Apparently she was visiting at someone's home, probably the Ralstons'. He turned in at the walk leading to the courthouse and was halfway through a Casino game with the sheriff when McDaniel lunged in the door.
"They postponed a decision until three o'clock this afternoon," McDaniel burst out. "But they were mighty impressed with your plan."
"And suspicious," Danner replied.
"What are you talking about?" Brant wanted to know.
Danner explained and Brant fell in with McDaniel's show of enthusiasm. But by now Danner had lost interest—and irritation—in the matter. When lunch was brought in for two prisoners cooling off in the drunk tank, Danner ordered a sack of sandwiches and they continued the Casino game into the afternoon.
Little by little, Danner learned from Brant the details of the three warehouse robberies that had occurred since his departure from the railroad payroll—one in Richfield and two in Junction City. Each had occurred only hours after the arrival of valuable freight, indicating that the thieves had inside information on rail shipments. And the express-car robbery had occurred less than half an hour after the train pulled out of Junction City with the only money shipment in three weeks. Danner could easily see why suspicion was aimed at him. Garr Green seemed to be making full use of his new job as special agent. Four men had robbed the express-car, Brant said. Danner figured the quartet included Green, Tuso, and a pair of hardcases who had been hanging around with Tuso lately. Ears Dooley was still laid up with the shoulder wound Danner had given him.
Danner played his hand absently, considering the information. The money shipment might draw Browder's interest, but the warehouse robberies probably had been carried out independently of his guidance. But none of this was his affair, Danner reminded himself, and he forced his mind to concentrate on the card game. At a quarter to three McDaniel wanted to return to the second meeting of the grangers.
"You go ahead," Danner urged. "I'm going to get a shave, then try to find Lona."
"This was your idea, Jeff. You should—"
"Bringing them into it was your idea," Danner corrected him.
"Now, don't get mad, Jeff. I—"
Danner shrugged. "No anger, Billy. I just don't care what they decide. Now, you run along and I'll see you after the meeting."
The hurt look in the big eyes of McDaniel brought a fleeting regret to Banner, but he said nothing. McDaniel left and Banner nodded to Brant and drifted over to the barbershop. By the time he returned to the street, McDaniel caught up with him.
"They voted to go along with your idea," McDaniel announced. "Once Olie said it was the best plan, the rest fell right in with it. This is going to win you a lot of friends and a lot of respect around here, Jeff. Folks will remember it for a long time. You'll see."
"What will they—and Olie—think if Browder destroys a few of the grain wagons before they can get to Richfield?"
Consternation washed across McDaniel's face and he paled. Huskily he said, "Will they try it —could they possibly—"
"We'll soon know."
"No one even thought of something like that happening." McDaniel's brow wrinkled in thought. "Isn't there something we can do to prevent it?"
"That depends on how much backbone they've got," Danner said. "One thing is certain. Browder isn't going to let his private domain fall apart without a fight."
CHAPTER NINE
Danner nailed the last of the sheet metal to the beams across the top of the barn, then paused to wipe the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his damp shirt. He peered over the front edge and found McDaniel about finished with the painting. The sun's reflection on the roof seared his eyes. Squinting against the glare, he t
urned and started sliding down the slanted sheet metal toward the ladder. The hot metal burned his rump and hands. When he reached the ladder he detected movement far to the south, and he scanned the flat country. Bundles of wheat dotted the fields, drying in the sun, awaiting the thrasher due next week. He spotted a buckboard moving slowly toward him and he perched on top of the ladder, watching.
Finally he could make out a graceful feminine form on the left side of the buckboard seat and a squat masculine figure on the right side handling no the reins. That combination couldn't be anyone but Lona and her pa. But the Swensen place lay to the north, not the south.
Puzzled, Danner descended the ladder and moved over to the water well. This was Tuesday— no, Wednesday—a workday. Olie wasn't one to waste a workday bouncing around the hot and dusty plains in a buckboard without a mighty good reason.
Drawing a fresh bucket of water, Danner drank deeply, then dipped his hands into the bucket and splashed the cool water on his face. By the time he finished drying himself on his shirttail and moved up to the house, the Swensens had drawn up in the yard.
Danner nodded to both, the reserved woman to whom he was betrothed and her ill-tempered parent who made no secret of his dislike of Danner as a son-in-law. Even though she had been traveling for hours, Lona appeared reasonably fresh and poised.
"Come in out of the sun," Danner invited.
"We're in a hurry to get home," Olie returned gruffly. "Lost most of the day already, chasing all over the territory. Need to get home to the chores."
Lona favored Danner with the briefest of smiles and Danner moved closer to the buckboard. She wouldn't have been able to talk Olie into corning by here if there wasn't something on his mind, Danner thought. He pulled his hat lower over his eyes and waited.
"May be trouble brewing," Olie said finally, squirming on the seat. "Four days ago, Tuso and a couple of hardcases came by my place and warned me against shipping my grain to Junction City. I've been all over the area today and found that Tuso has been there, too, warning the others."
Danner nodded, feeling no surprise. "What did he say he'd do if you go through with it?"
"Nothing." Olie leaned forward, glaring truculently. "He just claimed you talked us into it because you were up to something."
Danner detected a trace of suspicion in the narrowed eyes. Olie wasn't certain that Tuso might not be right. The composure of Lona's features told him nothing of what she thought.
"Well," Olie exploded, "aren't you going to deny it?"
Danner shook his head. "I didn't ask you people to do what I planned to do. What you think is of no importance to me."
Olie snorted, and Lona cast a searching stare at Danner. But Danner kept a tight rein on his temper and waited until Olie grew impatient again.
"Well, what do you think Browder will have Tuso do?"
Danner said, "Keep on trying to scare you off, just like he's been doing."
Olie made no attempt to hide his dissatisfaction with the answer. Distrusting both Browder and his future son-in-law, he hated to move either way. But he had little choice. He squirmed with discontent.
"Some of the grangers have pulled out already," Olie growled. "But the others probably will stick." He mopped his brow with a soiled bandanna, squinting over his shoulder at the mid-afternoon sun.
Lona spoke for the first time, her voice betraying nothing of her thoughts. "You don't think Browder will try any other way of stopping us?"
"He might," Danner said. "It wouldn't be wise for anyone to take a grain wagon to Richfield alone. If you go in bunches of half a dozen there's less chance of raiding."
Lona nodded in agreement, but Olie eyed him with continued suspicion.
"I don't like any of this," Olie bristled.
Danner couldn't resist a sardonic grin.
"Then pull out of it."
The team of horses began to move restlessly. They were thirsty and smelled the water in the trough near the well. Olie noticed it and glanced at the trough.
"Better water the horses," Olie growled. He slapped the reins and the team moved ahead. Danner walked alongside. While the horses gulped the water, Danner helped Lona from the buckboard. She followed him to the well and took the tin dipper of cool water he offered her, staring at him over the rim of the cup. Then she handed the cup to Olie. McDaniel joined them then, his chatter easing the tension somewhat. But Lona kept looking at Danner closely and he shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm glad you are staying away from town," she said finally. She waited for a moment and when he offered no comment, she continued. "Two passenger trains were robbed last week and another one Monday—"
"And," Danner interrupted roughly, "naturally, I'm getting the blame."
Lona nodded, her glance resting on him briefly then dropping. "They didn't bother the express-cars—just the passengers."
"How many bandits?"
"Five—each time—all wearing flour sacks over their heads. One guarded each end of the coach while two others searched the passengers. A fifth man was waiting with horses at the point where they jumped from the train each time."
A professional job, Danner thought. Tuso, Green and the two new hardcases totaled only four, so Ears Dooley must be back in circulation. He wondered if Browder knew about their activities. It seemed slightly penny ante for him.
McDaniel interrupted his thoughts. "Jeff, they can't blame you for those robberies because I know you haven't been off this place in eleven days. When we go to Richfield Saturday for those grain wagons, I'll just circulate around and tell everyone—"
"You'll tell them nothing," Danner interrupted shortly, despite his partner's good intentions.
Temper colored Lona's cheeks then. "But if you can prove your innocence—"
"I need no defense against idle rumors. If and when I am charged with a crime and brought to trial, I'll prove my innocence. Meanwhile, the good people around here can think what they wish."
Lona whirled away from him and an accusing glance from Olie didn't cool his temper any. But when Lona faced him again, she spoke in tight, clipped tones.
"If you do go to town Saturday, promise me you'll leave your gun here."
"A lot of people would like to catch me unarmed," Danner told her.
"Unarmed men don't get into trouble." Banner bit back another reply. Like Melinda, Lona had less trust in him than in the intentions of Browder's bunch. But he nodded reluctant agreement and she thanked him with a brief smile.
CHAPTER TEN
Danner completed his part of the Saturday morning chores soon after sunup. While McDaniel filled the water trough, he fixed breakfast. After eating they dressed for the trip to town. Danner buckled on his gun belt, then considered his promise to Lona. Thoughtfully, he caressed the butt of the Colts .45. Reluctantly, he unbuckled the belt and hung it on a peg on the wall.
Except for the occasional creak of saddle leather and the soft thud of hoofs on the packed soil of the well-used road, silence rode with them as they headed for Richfield. McDaniel rode loosely, lost in his own thoughts and oblivious to the jouncing of his big frame.
They rode along the same route the grain wagons would take to Richfield. Danner found himself considering possible ambush sites where Browder might strike if he should try wrecking the wagons before they reached the railroad.
Most of the road lay across flat plains that wouldn't hide raiders. But when Danner and McDaniel rode up to Wilson Ford, Danner decided this would be an excellent spot. It was little more than a dry wash this time of year.
Danner looked closely as he rode into the dip and up the far side. Riders could hide here and not be seen until they were ready to start shooting.
Half an hour later they passed through a timbered area. Dense underbrush screened the interior of the timber on each side of the road, making the spot another fine place to wait in ambush.
Just out of sight and hearing of Richfield, they wound around a series of small rises that seemed the least likely of the thre
e possible trouble points. Any hiding place here would put raiders more than two hundred yards from the road, a sufficient distance to permit wagonmen to get set, then pick off attackers with long guns. Either of the other two points would be much better sites.
Although it wasn't yet mid-morning when they reached Richfield, grangers flocked around the Trading Center making last-minute arrangements for thrashing machines.
"You see about the wagons," Danner told Billy. "I'll go check on the boxcars at the depot."
McDaniel nodded, then veered off into the maze of wagons crowding in front of the Trading Center. While still two hundred yards from the hotel, Danner saw Tuso come out and swagger off away from him, heading west. Since going to work for Browder, Tuso had bunked in a storeroom at the granary. Evidently he had moved into the hotel now. He would have taken his possessions with him, including a pin-fire pistol, if he owned one.
Reaching the hotel, Danner reined in and stepped to the ground. The veranda was deserted; so was the lobby. Even the desk clerk was off somewhere. Danner flipped open the register and scanned it until he found Tuso's name opposite room number two-ten. He stepped behind the desk and took a tagged key from the two-ten mail slot.
A worn carpet cushioned his boots on the steps and along the second-floor corridor. Like the room Danner had occupied for four years, two-ten consisted of a nine by twelve space containing only a bed, washstand, chest of drawers and a closet. He found Tuso's trunk in the closet.
Ten minutes of searching revealed some odds and ends of clothing, but no personal papers or mementos—and no LeFaucheaux pin-fire revolver.
Danner sat down on the bed, puzzled by a feeling that he had missed something. He scanned the room, certain he had checked everything. Even a man like Tuso accumulated a few personal items, a tintype or two, some letters and other papers. Yet no such items were here.
Danner peeled back the bedcovers and checked the mattress, finding nothing. He glanced around the room again and this time his gaze caught on the opened closet door. Two belts hung on a nail, one of them a two-inch black leather cavalry belt.