Steel Trails of Vengeance

Danner's quiet waiting.

'This gentleman,' Wainright nodded toward Browder, 'who is our biggest shipper, assures me a mistake has been made.'

'Yes,' Danner nodded. 'The Dooleys have made many mistakes, but this is the first time I've been able to prove it.'

Wainright flushed. 'That isn't what I had in mind.'

'If you let the Dooleys get away with this, they'll continue to steal everything that isn't nailed down. This lacks a lot of being their first stealing offense—just the first one I could prove. And stealing those rifles was just a diversion to make it easier for their brothers—'

'I've heard about your theory on the Spaulding robbery,' Wainright interrupted harshly. 'And about the part you may have had in it. I'm just trying to prevent a miscarriage of justice.'

'Justice?' Danner moved closer to Wainright, stung by the insinuation. 'I caught them with a case of stolen rifles. I have two witnesses who saw them carry the crate from our freight warehouse just minutes before the theft was reported to me. They deliberately permitted themselves to be seen in order to draw me out of Richfield.'

'Danner,' Browder's voice came like a roll of thunder in the confines of the small office. 'I saw the Dooleys buy those rifles from two men right here in Richfield. Your witnesses were mistaken in their identification.'

'And just who were those two men?' Danner made no attempt to hide the sarcasm he felt.

'Strangers to me,' Browder rumbled, smiling thinly and moving his great bulk around.

'Browder, you are a liar.'

Wainright stepped in between them, his eyes flaming. 'That'll be enough from you, Danner. Mr. Browder's word is sufficient for me. I'm assuming the Dooleys bought those rifles and had nothing to do with the Spaulding robbery.'

'Then I guess we better change the charge to 'receiving stolen property,'' Danner shot back. 'That's good for five years in prison.' His mouth muscles flicked tightly.

Browder waddled forward a couple of steps, still smiling faintly, but the slitted eyes behind the heavy glasses held no mirth. 'The Dooley boys meant no harm. It isn't as if they knew those rifles were stolen—'

'The receiver's name was painted on the side of the crate,' Danner said gently now. 'I'm sure the Dooleys can read, and I'm equally certain that I can produce that crate in court.'

'That's enough of this bickering,' Wainright interrupted. 'My mind is made up.' He turned to the sheriff. 'Great Plains Central hereby withdraws its charges, and orders the prisoners released.'

Brant looked quizzically at Danner, but made no move toward the cell block. Despite the deep anger burning in his chest, Danner kept his voice under tight rein.

'I can't protect railroad property if you won't prosecute the thieves I bring in. If you release the Dooleys, you'll have to get yourself a new special agent.'

The satisfaction that spread across the thin mouth of Wainright was a galling thing, yet Danner knew that no other course of action remained. Better to get it over with now, he thought. But already reaction created an emptiness within him, and a strong regret.

'The decision is yours, Danner,' Wainright said. 'If you don't wish to carry out orders and policies I make, you will be better off in another position. I can't have my policies questioned.'

Tuso sneered openly now, the delight on his swarthy face a bitter taste to Danner. Browder seemed pleased also, though it was difficult to be certain of what lay behind the folds of fat that nearly hid the squinted eyes. Temptation lay heavy in the right arm of Danner. It shocked him to realize how close he was to rashness. The knowledge eased the desire somewhat, making it possible to speak evenly.

'Wainright, you remember one thing. When this policy of yours blows up in your face, don't come crawling to me for help. I won't be available.'

CHAPTER FIVE

It didn't take long for Danner to clear out his desk early Monday. None of the clerks had arrived by the time he left. By ten o'clock he had removed the last of his gear from the hotel room and loaded it on a pack horse. Then he mounted and jogged out the south road without a backward glance. But an empty feeling grew within him with each stride of his mount and soon he slumped dejectedly in the saddle. His four years with the Colonel had been more than just a job. The railroad had become something for him to believe in—a way of life. Yet it would have been impossible for him to remain under Wainright. With a strong effort Danner threw off the lethargy and became conscious of the vastness of the great plains spread out in each direction—a sea of wheat growing ripe. This, too, was a way of life, for men like Olie Swensen. Only once did Danner pass a farm house. From a quarter of a mile away the buildings seemed lost in the great expanse. A boy of not more than six years of age dashed around a brooder house holding his stick rifle ready for action.

By noon the flatness gave way to a gentle downward slope. Danner continued south until the winding Richfield River appeared in the distance as a twisting silver ribbon. Winds from the southwest kicked up dust devils now. Danner blinked against the fine flecks. The land roughened near the river. Just visible among a cluster of trees along the banks nestled McDaniel's shack. Here, Danner planned to live while he caught up on his fishing and loafing—and maybe long enough to make one more attempt at finding a pin-fire pistol. Time enough after that to start looking for a new job. He wondered if that Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe job was still open. The Union Pacific also had made him an offer last year, but that was too far north for a Texan to live.

Reining up before the unpainted frame structure, Danner sat slack in the saddle, wondering if he should ride over to the Swensen farm eight miles west and make peace with Lona. Then he shrugged the idea aside and began unloading his pack animal.

Inside, he found the single room unchanged since his last visit. A cook stove, woodbox and cabinet occupied the north end of the room. In the center a homemade table held a stack of dirty dishes and pans. Two bunks clung to the south wall, separated by an ancient chest of drawers. Danner dumped his bedroll on the empty bunk and began stuffing his clothes into empty drawers. After all the gear was put away, he unsaddled his horses and turned them into the pole corral.

Next he sought out a shady spot along the riverbank and spent the rest of the afternoon catching a mess of channel catfish. At sundown he returned to the shack, cleaned the fish and dropped them into a skillet. Soon the savory odor filled the room and he turned his attention to beans, potatoes and cornbread. While putting the food on the table he heard a horse trot up. Moments later, McDaniel entered the shack, his usual grin missing.

'You have a good sense of smell, Billy.'

'Huh?' Then McDaniel's mouth loosened in a grin. 'Oh, you mean the grub. It was pretty good timing, I guess.' He shrugged out of his vest, then hung it and his hat on a wall peg. After washing up outside, he came back into the shack and they began eating.

Danner watched McDaniel covertly. Something worried the big Irishman, though not enough to interfere with his appetite. Halfway through the meal, McDaniel emptied his coffee cup and wiped his lips on his shirt sleeve.

'Most of the shop, yard and section crews quit today. They told Wainright to take his railroad and go to the devil.'

'Oh?'

'He spent all morning in the shops and yards, telling the boys how to do their jobs. He even told Pat Prothou how to repair a boiler, and Pat with thirty years' experience.' McDaniel refilled his coffee cup. From around a mouthful of cornbread he said, 'But the big blow up came this afternoon when he announced a new company policy. He said in the future, supervisors would check each man when he quit work for the day, to make sure no one carried off tools or parts belonging to the railroad—too much sneak thieving going on, he claimed.'

Danner took his tin plate to the garbage bucket and scraped it clean. Then he tossed the plate onto the cabinet and moved about the room, thinking of the Colonel's carefully picked crews being broken up by the bitterness of one man. New brooms sweep clean, the Colonel used to say; and Wainright seemed determined to sweep out all traces of the Colonel's team.

Sleep didn't come easily that night for Danner and when he got up the next morning McDaniel had left for