The Loner: The Blood of Renegades (21 page)
Chapter 39
“You could stay longer, you know,” Selena said with a smile. “You’d be welcome.”
Kingman nodded to show he agreed. “That’s true. You can stay in Paradise Valley as long as you like, both of you.”
A couple days had passed since the explosions closed the pass forever and the bloody battle that followed. The bodies had been buried, and Kingman had sent the two surviving avenging angels back to Juniper Canyon with a letter he had written to Jason Hissop, Father Agony’s oldest son and the one who presumably would take over the leadership of the community. In the letter, Kingman had followed Conrad’s suggestion and proposed a truce between Juniper Canyon and Paradise Valley.
“We appreciate the offer,” Conrad said as they stood on the cabin porch. “Arturo and I need to be heading on down the trail, though.”
“I understand,” Kingman said. “You have to find your missing children.”
Selena leaned her head against his shoulder and rested a hand lightly on her belly. “You won’t have to go very far to find your child, Daniel. He’s right here.”
Kingman’s eyes widened as he turned his head to look at her. “You mean . . . ?”
Selena nodded. “That’s right.”
“Congratulations,” Conrad told them with a smile. “I hope the little one is raised in a nice peaceful home.”
“He will be,” Kingman said. “Or she. Either way, I’m going to do everything in my power to make peace. This valley has known enough war.”
“Amen to that,” Conrad said. He stepped off the porch and climbed up on a big roan with a white star on its face. He didn’t know what had happened to the black gelding, but Ollie, who had a knack for horseflesh, had assured Conrad that the roan was a fine animal.
“And if that black of yours ever turns up, we’ll take good care of it,” he had promised. “The next time you come back this way, you can pick it up.”
Conrad doubted that would ever happen, but he’d thanked Ollie anyway.
A team of good horses was hitched to the buggy. Arturo was on the seat, holding the reins.
Selena stepped down from the porch and leaned into the buggy to plant a kiss on Arturo’s cheek. “Good luck to you, and thank you for everything you did for me. For all of us.”
Arturo reddened. “I assure you, Miss Webster, I was merely trying to stay alive under difficult circumstances.”
“Of course.” Selena smiled at him. She turned to Conrad and held a hand up to him. “Conrad, I don’t know what to say . . .”
“Then don’t say anything,” he told her as he gripped her hand.
Kingman had followed her down from the porch. He shook hands with Conrad and Arturo, then put his left arm around Selena’s shoulders and raised his right arm in farewell as they turned the roan and the buggy and rode away from the cabin.
Ollie was waiting in front of the community barn. Conrad leaned down to shake hands with the big man. “You’re the rock this place is built on, Ollie. I’m counting on you to take care of everybody and help Dan make it a real home for your people.”
Ollie’s head bobbed up and down. “I sure will, Mr. Browning,” he promised. “Good luck. I hope you find your kids.”
“So do I, Ollie. So do I.”
Conrad and Arturo headed for the far end of the valley. Some exploring had revealed a narrow gash in the mountainside leading up to a stretch of tableland that curved around the peak. That was how Hissop and his men had gotten into the valley a couple days earlier. The opening was wide enough for a couple men on horseback, or for the buggy, but that was all. It would be relatively easy for the inhabitants of the valley to keep it guarded around the clock, if that proved to be necessary.
At the top of the cut, Conrad reined in and turned in the saddle to look back at the beautiful valley behind them. Arturo brought the buggy to a stop and asked, “Do you regret leaving?”
“Not at all,” Conrad answered honestly. “This isn’t my home and never could be.” He smiled. “But I hope it’s a good one for them.”
With that, they headed west.
Over the next couple days, Conrad and Arturo worked their way back down and out of the mountains and finally came to the Southern Pacific Railroad again. Conrad questioned if they were still in Utah or if they had crossed the border into Nevada. It didn’t really matter, he supposed, but he was curious anyway.
He also wondered when they would come to a settlement. They had a few supplies left, but they were going to have to restock their provisions soon. Either that or live off the game he was able to shoot, and considering the mostly barren region didn’t have a lot of wildlife, that was a chancy proposition.
Late in the afternoon of the second day, he spotted some buildings along the tracks far ahead of them. “Looks like a little town up there.” He pointed them out to Arturo.
“Do you think there might be a hotel?”
“You never can tell. It’s possible, since the railroad goes through there.” Conrad chuckled. “Are you wanting to sleep in a real bed again, Arturo? It’s only been a couple days since we left Paradise Valley.”
“Yes, but the mattresses those people use are filled with corn shucks. They’re certainly not the most comfortable mattresses I’ve ever slept on.”
“Well, we’ll see,” Conrad said. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high if I was you.”
“I never do,” Arturo said. “That way the only surprises are pleasant ones.”
Conrad laughed as they rode on.
When they came closer to the settlement, he saw that it wasn’t a very big one. There was an adobe depot building next to the tracks, with a short street stretching north a few blocks. The town had a couple general stores, which meant he and Arturo could pick up some provisions. There were three saloons, a blacksmith shop, a livery stable, a few other businesses, and maybe a dozen houses, some made out of adobe, the others from weathered, sun-faded lumber. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant-looking place, but Conrad was glad to see it.
They went to the livery stable first. A short, stocky Mexican who introduced himself as Ricardo was glad to take care of Conrad’s roan and the buggy team. “You must have come far. You have the look of men who are well traveled.”
“Too far,” Conrad said. “But we have still farther to go.”
“Is there a hotel in town?” Arturo asked.
Ricardo nodded. “Sure. The Humboldt House. It’s not too fancy, but the bugs won’t bite you too bad.” He laughed at the stricken look on Arturo’s face. “No, señor, I’m joking. There are no bugs.”
The look he gave Conrad behind Arturo’s back said that
maybe
there were a few bugs.
maybe
there were a few bugs.
“Which mercantile is the best?” Conrad asked.
“Trafford won’t cheat you. The others . . .” Ricardo wiggled his hand up and down. “You got to watch them a little closer.”
Conrad nodded. “We’re obliged. Arturo, why don’t you go to the store and see about ordering supplies, then get us rooms at the hotel? I’m going over to the train station.”
“You’re catching the train?” Ricardo asked. “You want to sell this buggy and these horses?”
“No, I just need to talk to the stationmaster,” Conrad explained.
He and Arturo split up, Arturo heading for Trafford’s General Store while Conrad walked toward the depot. Stepping inside he realized the thick adobe walls kept the building cool. It was a small depot serving a small settlement. He figured one man probably served as stationmaster, ticket clerk, baggage handler, and telegrapher. Conrad found him behind a narrow window with a wicket in it.
The man was bald except for a fringe of white hair around his ears and the back of his head. In a high-pitched voice, he introduced himself as Percy and tried to sell Conrad a ticket on the train.
Conrad shook his head and said no thanks to the ticket. “Have you been around here long? What’s the name of this place, anyway?”
“Why, this is Cavendish. Cavendish, Nevada,” Percy said proudly. “And I’ve been here as long as the depot has. Eleven years, come August.”
“You’ve been in charge of the station that whole time?”
“Yes, sir. Right down to sweeping out the place.”
Conrad nodded. “I know this is a long shot, but do you recall a woman who came through on the train about three years ago, traveling with a couple small children and a nanny?”
Percy frowned at him. “Now how in the world would I remember something like—Wait a minute. You don’t mean Mrs. Browning, do you?”
Conrad’s breath caught in his throat. “Mrs. Browning?” he repeated.
“Sure. The wife of a fella named Conrad Browning. He’s a big stockholder in the line, so I went out of my way to make sure Mrs. Browning was comfortable while she and her kids were here. They wouldn’t have stopped over at all, except one of the regulator valves on the engine went bad and the company had to send out another one. Had to park the train on the siding for a couple days while we were waiting for it. Didn’t want an important lady like Mrs. Browning having to stay in a Pullman compartment when the train wasn’t even moving, so the line put her up in the hotel. What a nice lady.”
Conrad could have told the man some things that would have proven Pamela wasn’t a nice lady at all, but he didn’t see any point in it.
“So she did have the children with her?”
“Yep, a little boy and a little girl, as I recall. And that woman traveling with her to help out with the kids. She was nice, too. Really devoted to those young’uns, almost like they were her own.”
Conrad was glad to hear the twins were being well taken care of, anyway. “So when the locomotive was repaired, the train went on west?”
“Yep. San Francisco bound.” Percy frowned. “Say, why all the questions, mister? What business is it of yours?”
“I used to be friends with . . . Mr. and Mrs. Browning.” Conrad almost choked on the words. It was the first time he’d heard Pamela sometimes pretended to be his wife to get what she wanted. It didn’t surprise him. She had always been willing to go to any lengths to get her way.
“Sure you don’t need a ticket?”
Conrad was tempted. Surely Pamela hadn’t come so far west with the twins then not taken them on to San Francisco with her. He could be there in a day and enlist Turnbuckle and Stafford in the search. He could afford to hire an army of private detectives to scour the city for any sign of the children.
But there was a slim chance that Pamela had hidden them somewhere between where he was—Cavendish, Nevada—and the coast, so Conrad couldn’t afford to risk bypassing any of the settlements. He told Percy, “No, that’s all right. Thanks anyway.”
He went to the Humboldt House and found Arturo waiting for him in the lobby. “I’ve rented two rooms for us,” Arturo reported, “and Mr. Trafford will have our supplies ready for us first thing in the morning.”
Conrad nodded. “Good job. I talked to the stationmaster and found out Pamela still had the twins with her when she passed through here.”
“He remembered her after all this time?”
“She was pretending to be my wife,” Conrad said with a wry smile. “That got her some special treatment.”
“I see.”
Conrad clapped a hand on Arturo’s shoulder. “What say we get some supper? Is there a dining room here in the hotel?”
“No, but the desk clerk recommended a restaurant down the street called Faraday’s. He said it was the best food in Cavendish.” Arturo shook his head and added quietly, “I’m not sure just how sterling a recommendation that really is.”
“Let’s find out,” Conrad suggested.
Calling Faraday’s a restaurant was being generous. It was more of a café, and only a step up from a hash house. But the steaks actually were pretty good, and they came with plenty of potatoes. The coffee Conrad and Arturo drank to wash down the food was slightly bitter but not too bad.
Dusk was settling over Cavendish when they stepped outside. Conrad paused to take a deep breath of the evening air, when a harsh voice bellowed, “Heathens! Murdering heathens!”
Instinct sent Conrad’s hand flashing toward his gun as he twisted toward the sound. He saw a man’s shape loom up, saw the sudden bloom of Colt flame in the shadows, heard the roar of the shot. The muzzle flash lit up the man’s scarred, hate-filled face.
Jackson Leatherwood wasn’t dead after all.
The avenging angel was back.
Chapter 40
Close beside Conrad, Arturo grunted and stumbled back a step. As Leatherwood charged them, firing wildly, Conrad’s Colt roared and bucked in his hand. He fired three times. Leatherwood shuddered as each of the slugs smashed into his body. Reeling to the side, he fired again, the bullet kicking up dust at Conrad’s feet. Conrad squeezed the trigger again and Leatherwood’s head jerked as the slug caught him in the forehead, bored through his brain, and exploded out the back of his skull. He crumpled bonelessly to the ground.
Conrad put the pieces together and figured out what had happened. Leatherwood hadn’t joined in the charge of the avenging angels through the pass after all. At the last moment something caused Leatherwood to hold back. He had escaped the avalanche and escaped death, then followed Conrad and Arturo to Cavendish to have his vengeance on them.
Conrad knew it, but didn’t care about it. Whirling toward Arturo he saw his friend was sitting on the ground, gasping in pain as he hunched forward.
“Arturo!” Conrad cried as he holstered his Colt. He dropped to his knees and got an arm around Arturo’s shoulders to hold him up. “Arturo, how bad is it?”
“I’m afraid I’m . . . wounded rather grievously, sir.” A dark worm of blood crawled out of the corner of Arturo’s mouth. “You’ll . . . find the children. . . . Promise me . . . you’ll carry on. . . .”
“Don’t worry about that right now. Just hang on.” Conrad heard pounding footsteps and looked up to see the hostler from the livery stable running toward them. “Ricardo! Is there a doctor here?”
Ricardo stopped and stared at Leatherwood’s body for a second, then turned to Conrad and Arturo. “
Sí
, there is a doctor, but he is an old man and not much good.”
Sí
, there is a doctor, but he is an old man and not much good.”
“Get him,” Conrad grated. “Quick.”
“All right. The other man . . .”
“He’s dead. He won’t ever hurt anybody again.” Ricardo jerked his head in a nod and ran off in search of the doctor. People were coming out of Faraday’s, as well as from the stores and the saloons, drawn by the sound of the shots. They wanted to see what was going on, so they began circling like buzzards.
Conrad felt Arturo shivering as he held on to him. “The doctor’s on his way. Don’t you die on me, Arturo. Don’t you die.”
“I will . . . endeavor not to . . . sir.” Arturo’s voice was weaker. More blood dripped from his mouth as he hugged himself.
Conrad tipped his head back and looked up at the sky, which had darkened from blue to purple to black as the stars came out. Those stars mocked him with their peaceful twinkling, looking down on the scene of death and tragedy as if it meant nothing to them . . . which it didn’t, Conrad knew.
But it meant something to him, and once again he whispered, “Don’t die.”
Percy looked up behind his wicket as Conrad stopped in front of the ticket window. “I heard about what happened to your friend, mister,” Percy said. “I’m sorry. How’s he doing?”
“He’s alive,” Conrad said, “but he may not be for long unless I can get him better medical care than what you have here. The doctor says it’ll be a risk for him to travel, but getting him to a real hospital is the only chance he has. When’s the next westbound?”
“You’re in luck,” Percy said. “It’ll be through in about an hour. You want tickets?”
Luck
, Conrad thought as he slapped a bill down on the counter. “Two tickets for Carson City.”
, Conrad thought as he slapped a bill down on the counter. “Two tickets for Carson City.”
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