McKeever showed no embarrassment for what he guessed was in Owen's mind. “Now, Owen,” he said mildly, “I wouldn't have pegged you as one to hold a grudge because I supported Cushman when he ran against you for sheriff.”
“I hold no grudge, Ben. I merely pointed out that Will is the sheriff, not me.”
“And I don't need to point out,” the banker said bluntly, “that the Brunners have made a fool of Will Cushman. He's the laughingstock of the hills. They say our sheriff couldn't find his nose with both hands, and they're right.”
Owen started shaking his head again, but McKeever broke in before he could speak. “Cushman hasn't got the guts for the job. I know,” he said, holding up a hand, “I should have thought of that before supporting him. But it's too late for that now. Owen, Oklahoma's a new state; it's just learning to walk. Back East there are capitalists itchin' to throw millions of dollars into our state, but they don't dare risk it as long as there are men like the Brunners to threaten their investments. Now, I have confidential information that a railroad has plans to lay track to Reunion. But the James brothers are fresh in their minds. And the Doolins. Now it's the Brunners, and there's talk that the railroad has changed its plans and the track is going somewhere else. Owen, don't you see what this means?”
“I don't see what it has to do with me,” Owen said. “The Brunners are none of my business.”
McKeever's naturally florid face became red. “They will be your business,” he said angrily, “if they keep the railroad out of Reunion. Don't you realize what a railroad would mean to you farmers? It would multiply your present market a hundred—a thousand times!”
Owen refused to be ruffled. He said quietly, “The James boys couldn't stop the railroad. I doubt that the Brunners can do it either.”
McKeever lurched forward in his chair. “I happen to know they can! The railroad plans ain't settled. They're surveying a spur-line route to Reunion, but they've also laid out a western route that could join up with the Santa Fe. It's a ticklish proposition; the least thing could throw them away from one plan and make them settle on the other.”
Owen sat quietly, saying nothing.
“I tell you,” McKeever went on, “if we don't get this railroad, eastern Oklahoma will lag twenty years behind the rest of the state. That's how important it is. The people of this county have got to make the decision, and we don't have much time. Eastern capital pouring in here can mean the difference between prosperity and poverty for the settlers, the difference between good roads and wagon tracks. Schools, industry. Oklahoma is just beginning to come alive. We can't let outlaws like the Brunners strangle it before it gets big enough to fight for itself!”
“I know,” Owen said calmly.
McKeever smiled, thinking that he had made his point.
“I know,” Owen said again. “That's the reason the people elected Will Cushman sheriff.”
The banker's smile bent like hot wax, but he was skilled in diplomacy and held his temper. “We need you, Owen,” he said tightly. “All the people of the county need you.”
“I'm sorry, Ben.”
There was storm in Ben McKeever's pale eyes. “You mean you won't do it?”
“I mean I can't do it. I told you, Ben, I'm a family man now, and a farmer. Not a lawman.”
The banker was making a great effort, but he was slowly losing the grip on his temper. Laboriously he pushed himself out of the chair. “Owen Toller,” he said. “Once people mentioned the name in the same breath with Earp and Masterson. I didn't think a man like you would ever back down from toughs like the Brunners.”
Owen felt the blood draining from his face. In his time many had hated him, but no man had ever suggested that Owen Toller lacked courage. “Ben,” he said softly, his gray eyes glinting, “I've got work to do in the field. If you'll excuse me...”
Ben realized that he had made a bad mistake. Another time, a few years back, a blunder like this might have been fatal. He swallowed uneasily.
“I guess I talked out of turn,” he managed to say.
“We'll forget it,” Owen said flatly. “Now, if you'll excuse me...”
As McKeever backed clumsily toward the front door, he said, “Owen, will you think it over?”
“It's out of the question, Ben.”
“The thousand dollars, Owen. Think of that!”
“If I got myself killed, how long would a thousand dollars take care of Elizabeth and the kids?”
The banker stood fast in the doorway, breathless and sweating. “Owen,” he said, “I am not without influence in this state. If I wanted, I could make it tough on a man.”
“Ben,” Toller asked coldly, “are you threatening me?”
A chill seemed to shake Ben McKeever. “I just want you to think it over,” he said quickly, then lumbered hurriedly out of the house.
The banker was sticky with sweat when he reached his buggy. He wiped his face thoroughly with a red handkerchief before taking the reins and heading back for Reunion. Toller had proved tougher than he had anticipated. But he would come around. And soon. All men came around when Ben McKeever set his mind to it.
Slowly, the lush green smell of the hills soothed him, and McKeever allowed his huge bulk to spread comfortably over the leather-upholstered seat. He speculated with quiet pleasure on the untapped richness of the land. Here the dirt was dark and bursting with growing things. Farther into the hills there were huge fortunes in timber ready for the cutting.
McKeever's land, much of it. McKeever's timber. He was a man who dealt in futures, and he was one of the few who could see the great wealth that would someday come down out of those hills. Someday this land that he had bought for pennies could not be purchased at any price. That was McKeever's vision.
But first, before the vision could be realized, there must be a means of transporting this great wealth to market. The railroad was the answer. Not the Katy, for it was too far away. The spur line was the answer, and the banker had worked hard and long to get it. He cringed when he thought of the money he had spent, of the subtle bribes that he had passed out so lavishly to surveyors and minor officials in order that good reports of this country might reach the powerful financiers in the East. And then the Brunners had come.
The very thought of those brothers, Ike and Cal Brunner, could send McKeever into a rage. They had caused havoc, raiding into Arkansas and Missouri, as well as in Oklahoma, disrupting the fragile line of communication and commerce, robbing banks, wagon trains, peddlers.
Nothing was too large or too small. It seemed that the Brunners and their gang of ignorant hill boys robbed and killed for the sheer pleasure of it.
Beneath his folds of fat, McKeever writhed in rage when he speculated on the possibility that his vision, his empire, might be destroyed because of this small band of stupid cutthroats that hid in the hills, struck like panthers, vanished like smoke.
Often McKeever had cursed himself for supporting Will Cushman for county sheriff. At the time it had seemed the right move. He had been afraid of Toller. The man had a mind of his own, thought as he pleased, and did his job to his own satisfaction only. McKeever would not support a man who refused to take orders.