coming through the door. Grangers drifted in, filling chairs, and Danner inspected each one covertly. Only four wore gun belts, none of which sheathed pin-fire revolvers. The closest anyone sat to Danner and McDaniel was three seats away.
The buzz of idle chatter grew louder with each new arrival. Pipe smoke soon clouded the air. One sturdily built granger moved his chair closer to a window so he could spit tobacco juice outside.
McDaniel turned toward Danner, his voice low. 'Do you think anyone will know a way to make Browder give us an honest weigh-in?'
'Nope,' Danner answered. 'But it doesn't matter. I know a way you and I can beat him.'
McDaniel's eyes widened with interest and he leaned over eagerly. 'What is it?'
A sudden stillness settled over the hall before Danner could reply. Down the center aisle came Olie Swensen wiping his hairless head with a crumpled bandanna. Several grangers along the aisle spoke to him, but he only nodded grumpily and lumbered on to the platform. All eyes were trained on him as he stepped behind a table and rapped his knuckles on the plank top to gain their attention.
'You all know why we are here,' Olie began. 'We have reason to believe—no, I'll put it stronger than that. We
A rumbling of sound swelled from the hall and Olie rapped violently until it subsided. Glowering, he said, 'Let's have your ideas one at a time. You first, Mr. Gustafson.'
An ancient stringbean stood up and spoke haltingly for several minutes on the need for doing something, but he offered no solution. Several others voiced equally fruitless opinions. The head of the Andersen clan even suggested that Browder be lynched. Danner slumped in his chair, feeling annoyance at this waste of time. He heard the morning westbound clang in from Junction City and wished he could climb aboard for the trip on west. He could almost smell the smoke and steam and creosote and felt a longing something like homesickness.
Olie shouted for order then, bringing Danner's attention back to the meeting.
'Since no one else has a solution,' Olie thundered, 'I'll offer one. I think we should build our own granary—a co-operative that we will own and operate, sharing the profits.'
Instant approval came from the grangers, followed by another wrangle about how to best accomplish the proposal. A pair of sober questions came from a bearded patriarch who spoke without taking his curved-stem pipe from his mouth.
'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.
'
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.
