Commercial Gridlock

"Sorry Doctor," came the apologetic smile, "but I just can't do business with your guild."

It was the third such response Dr. Tom Chambers had received. The dry goods wholesaler that supplied caravans, the fuel merchant and now the freight carrier had all turned down his business proposition. The implication was clear: the Granis were applying pressure. The Doc straightened his duster and went outside into the morning air. There was no sense in talking to the caravan representatives either, he reasoned. They'd already have been told not to do any business with the Guild.

"That tears it," he said grumpily, "there's only one thing left to do then. Well, perhaps two."

The Doc went to find Trishaw Carmichael and his whiskey flask. Then he was going to send a message to the Granis.