The Loner: The Blood of Renegades (4 page)
Chapter 6
Conrad waited while the men walked off and vanished into the darkness. They were no longer trying to be quiet, so he was able to hear their footsteps. A few minutes later, the swift rataplan of hoofbeats drifted to his ears as the avenging angels rode away from the mesa.
He waited until he couldn’t hear the horses at all, then waited some more. Finally satisfied the gunmen were gone, he stood up, made his way to the ledge, and started down.
As he climbed he thought about what to do next. He and Arturo had several canteens full of water, as well as a small barrel of it stowed in the back of the buggy, but it was a long, dry stretch across that part of Utah. Conrad had planned to take advantage of the water stops along the railroad.
He’d just learned some of their enemies would be waiting for them at Navajo Wash, so that was out. And so were the tanks at Frenchman’s Flat, wherever that was. Maybe Selena would know of another place they could replenish their water supply.
When he reached the bottom of the trail, he turned in the direction of the rocks, but had taken only a couple steps before he heard an all-too-familiar sound behind him—the ugly, metallic ratcheting of a gun being cocked.
A hard voice immediately followed. “Don’t move, mister. It’ll be easier on me keeping you alive, but I’ll shoot you if I have to.”
Conrad froze. He recognized the voice. “Kiley.”
“You know me?”
“Only by what Leatherwood called you. I thought you went to Navajo Wash.”
“I know what you thought,” Kiley said with a note of boastful pride. “I told the other men with me to go on, that I’d catch up to them at the wash, then doubled back here on foot. I spotted that little ledge when we were here earlier. Jackson never noticed it, but I thought at least one of you might be on top of the mesa. Looks like I was right. I would have gone up, but I heard you coming down and decided to wait and get the drop on you.”
“You want all the credit for bringing back the girl, don’t you? You’re trying to impress Father Agony so he’ll make you the top man in his gang.”
Conrad heard the sharp, angry hiss of breath between Kiley’s teeth. “Don’t you disrespect Elder Hissop by using that awful name for him. You shouldn’t refer to the avenging angels as a gang, either. We’re doing the Lord’s work.”
“By killing?”
“If that’s what it takes. Now tell me, are the other two still up there?”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
“Then you’re a fool. I’ll put a bullet in your knee so you can’t run and you’ll hurt so bad you’ll tell me anything I want to know. Or you can cooperate, and once I have the girl, I’ll let you and your friend go.”
Normally Conrad wouldn’t have believed a promise like that. He didn’t know Mormons well enough to be sure what they might do, however. Maybe Kiley was telling the truth.
It didn’t really matter. Conrad wasn’t going to turn Selena over to him. No matter how Agonistes Hissop’s other wives felt about it, Selena regarded marriage to the elder as being locked away in prison, and Conrad wasn’t going to condemn her to that.
His mind raced furiously. His options were limited. In the bad light he might be able to throw himself to the side, whirl around, and drill Kiley with a round from the Winchester before the man could shoot him. But Kiley would get at least one shot off, and the sound of the blasts would travel a long way over the desert. Leatherwood and the rest of the avenging angels would hear them and likely come galloping back.
He decided for the moment the best thing to do was stall and wait for an opportunity. “All right,” he said with a defeated sigh. “They’re waiting up there while I check things out down here. You can go up and see for yourself.”
“And turn my back on you?” Kiley laughed. “I don’t think so. You go up the trail first.”
Conrad didn’t know Kiley, but the gunman didn’t know him, either. He had no idea Conrad Browning would never give in so easily.
“All right,” he said as he started toward the ledge, dropping the Winchester. “Just be careful with that gun. I don’t want you shooting me accidentally.”
“If I shoot you, it won’t be by accident.”
Conrad stepped onto the ledge. He kept his hands in plain sight so Kiley wouldn’t get nervous and trigger-happy. In some places the path was so steep and rough he had to rest his left hand on the mesa wall to steady himself. He heard Kiley breathing hard a few steps behind him.
If he climbed all the way to the top Kiley would realize Arturo and Selena weren’t there. He would be in the same position he’d been in when Kiley first got the drop on him. Conrad needed to turn the tables on the gunman.
Recognizing the spot where he’d almost lost his balance Conrad stepped over the rock in the trail. Planting his foot, he kicked back. His boot heel hit the rock and sent it rolling down the trail right under Kiley’s feet.
The gunman let out a startled yell. As Conrad swung around, he saw that dodging the rock had caused Kiley to lose his balance and fling out both arms to catch himself, which meant the gun in his hand wasn’t pointed at Conrad anymore.
Lunging at the man Conrad reached out to close his hand over the revolver’s cylinder so the hammer would strike the web of flesh between his thumb and forefinger rather than the bullet in the chamber. In the same movement he swung a hard punch at Kiley’s head, intending to knock Kiley off the ledge and send him plummeting to the hard ground forty feet below. At the very least, a fall like that would injure the gunman enough to render him harmless for a while.
Kiley jerked his head aside as the glancing blow scraped over his ear. Trying to wrestle his revolver out of Conrad’s grip he lowered his shoulder and bulled into him, slamming him against the mesa’s sandstone wall.
Neither man said anything as they struggled on the narrow ledge. Kiley got a hand on Conrad’s throat and forced him toward the edge. Conrad planted his feet and jabbed a punch into Kiley’s midsection. The thought crossed Conrad’s mind that they might both topple off the ledge and fall to their deaths.
He grabbed hold of Kiley’s duster and pulled himself closer. His knee came up, aimed at the gunman’s groin. Kiley twisted aside and took the blow on his thigh. He tightened his grip on Conrad’s throat and drove Conrad’s head against the rock with stunning force that made skyrockets explode inside his skull.
As he fought to hold on to consciousness, Conrad threw his strength into another heave on the revolver and finally ripped it free of Kiley’s grasp. Slashing at the gunman’s head he felt the butt thud heavily against Kiley’s temple. Kiley groaned in pain and his grip on Conrad’s throat loosened. Conrad took the advantage and knocked Kiley’s hand away from him. For a split second, neither of them had hold of the other.
Conrad pressed his back against the mesa and lifted his right foot in a kick that landed in Kiley’s belly. Kiley bent over and stumbled back a step, his right foot sliding off the edge of the trail. He yelled and flung his hands out toward the wall in a frantic scrabble for a grip that would save him, but there was nothing there. His arms windmilled futilely as he pitched to the side, away from the mesa. Then he was gone, falling through the darkness as a scream ripped from his throat.
That scream lasted only a second before an ugly thud abruptly silenced it. Conrad stood with his back against the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His head was still spinning from being rammed against the rock.
After a few moments, he felt steady enough to straighten and look over the trail’s edge. He saw a dark, unmoving shape sprawled on the ground.
With Kiley’s unfired gun in his hand, he went back down the trail, moving as quickly as he dared. When he reached the bottom, he kept the revolver leveled at Kiley’s motionless form. As he approached he saw a spreading pool of black under the gunman’s head. Kiley must have landed on a rock that split his skull wide open, Conrad thought.
He risked checking for a pulse and found none. Kiley was dead. He would do no more avenging for Elder Agonistes Hissop.
Conrad straightened from that grim task and tucked Kiley’s gun behind his belt. Sooner or later the two men on their way to Navajo Wash would wonder why Kiley hadn’t caught up with them.
That meant he had a chance to surprise them, Conrad realized. He had to find Kiley’s horse. The animal couldn’t be too far away. He stripped the duster off the dead man, picked up Kiley’s hat, and then headed off into the darkness.
Chapter 7
Conrad headed in the direction of Navajo Wash and found the gunman’s horse tied to a mesquite about half a mile from the mesa. He unfastened the reins and led the animal toward the big rocks.
He had left on foot and was coming back with a horse, so he wasn’t surprised when Arturo called out, “Whoever you are, stop right there! I have a rifle pointed at you, and I’m not afraid to use it!”
“It’s me, Arturo,” Conrad called back. “I’m coming in.”
He trotted the rest of the way to the camp in the rocks, where Arturo and Selena greeted him with questions. “Where did you get the horse?” Arturo asked. Selena followed by saying, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Conrad assured her, then turned to Arturo. “The horse belonged to that fellow Kiley who was with Leatherwood earlier.”
“Belonged?” Arturo repeated. “As in, the individual is now dead?”
“That pretty much sums it up.”
Selena said, “We didn’t hear any shots.”
“There weren’t any.” Quickly, Conrad explained how Leatherwood and the other avenging angels had sneaked up on the mesa only to find their quarry gone, then discussed their plans while Conrad was eavesdropping on them. “I thought they were all gone, but when I got down to the bottom of the trail, Kiley was waiting for me. He had doubled back on foot.”
“And you killed him without firing a shot?” Selena sounded amazed. “How on earth did you manage that?”
Conrad told them about the fight on the ledge. “It was pretty close to a disaster,” he concluded, “but I was finally able to get the upper hand.”
“Along with the man’s horse and gun,” Arturo said.
“That’s not all.” Conrad had draped Kiley’s duster over the saddle and hung the gunman’s hat on the saddlehorn. He took them down and went on, “If I was wearing these and riding this horse, from a distance I could pass for Kiley.”
“And there are only two men at this place called Navajo Wash,” Arturo said, proving he had caught on to what Conrad was talking about.
“Exactly. If they think it’s Kiley riding up on them, they won’t be looking for trouble.”
“Wait a minute,” Selena said. “What is it you’re planning on doing, Mr. Browning? Riding in and shooting it out with those men?”
“Not necessarily. If I can get close enough without them realizing who I am, I can disarm them, tie them up, and leave them there for Leatherwood to find when he realizes we’re not going to Frenchman’s Flat. That plan depends on a couple things, though. Are you familiar with this Navajo Wash place?”
Selena nodded. “Elder Hissop had driven some of his cattle there to load them on the train when he sold them and had to ship them out. Sometimes practically the entire community would go along on those trips.”
“Is there anything there except a water tank so the locomotives can refill their boilers?”
“There’s a siding and a little shed. That’s all I recall. There’s certainly not a settlement or anything like that.”
Conrad nodded. “Then there won’t be anybody around to help them or get caught in a crossfire.”
“You mean no one will be in danger except you.”
Conrad shrugged. “I have a pretty good idea what I’m getting into.”
“So you’re going to risk your life—again!—for someone you haven’t even known for twelve hours.”
“He does this sort of thing all the time,” Arturo said.
“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” Conrad suggested. “The next question is, do you know how to get to Navajo Wash from here?”
Selena hesitated, then said, “I think I can find it.”
“In the dark?”
“Probably. It’s on the railroad, so all we really have to do is find the tracks.”
“How long will it take to get there?”
“I don’t really know. A couple hours, maybe?”
The moon had risen while Conrad was on his way back to the rocks. He took out his watch, opened it, and used the moonlight to see the time. With a snap, he closed the watch.
“Try to get some sleep,” he told Selena. “We won’t leave here for a while. I want to get to Navajo Wash before dawn, but when it’s light enough so the men who are there can see me coming and recognize Kiley’s coat and horse. The two of you will be well behind me, out of sight.”
“I don’t like it,” Selena said, “but there’s not really any point in arguing with you, is there?”
Arturo answered that question. “None at all.”
Conrad was able to snatch an hour’s sleep while Arturo stood watch, but his nerves were too taut to let him relax much. Everyone was still tired when they saddled the horses, hitched up the buggy team, and started for Navajo Wash.
Selena had insisted on saddling her own horse again, and Conrad was starting to think there was something odd about that. He didn’t know what to make of it, but didn’t want to press Selena for answers. He had more important things to worry about.
Selena seemed worried, too. From the seat of the buggy where she was riding, she asked, “Why can’t we just go around Navajo Wash and avoid Frenchman’s Flat, too?”
“If we don’t stop at either of those places, where’s the next good water?” Conrad asked as he rode alongside the vehicle.
She was slow in answering. “I don’t know.”
“Neither do I. That’s the point. In country like this, you’re better off taking on water wherever you can, because you don’t know how long it’ll be before you find more. There’s something else to consider, too. It’s possible a westbound train will come along while we’re there, and we can get you on it without having to take you to Nevada. You could be out of this Father Agony’s reach in a few hours.”
“That sounds good,” Selena admitted. “But we have no way of knowing a train will come along and stop there.”
“It’s a chance,” Conrad agreed, “but I think it’s a risk we can afford to run if we take care of those two men who are waiting there.”
Selena started to say something else, but fell silent before the words left her mouth. Conrad had a pretty good idea what she was thinking. She was afraid of the avenging angels and didn’t want them taking her back to Juniper Canyon, but they were also part of the community in which she had grown up. Conrad had killed one of them already, and two more of them might die at his hands before the sun came up. It had to bother her.
She didn’t want to go back and marry Hissop. That feeling was the stronger, Conrad sensed. So she was torn. When it came down to making a choice, she would choose her freedom over the lives of the men pursuing her.
Nobody could blame her for that.
They practically tripped over the steel rails of the Southern Pacific. “Navajo Wash should be a few miles west of here,” Selena said. “You’ll cross the wash itself on a trestle before you get to the water tank. You’ll be able to see the tank without any trouble.”
“And the men waiting there should be able to see me,” Conrad said as he looked at the eastern sky, which had started to turn gray with the approach of dawn. Sunrise was still an hour or so away. That would give him plenty of time to reach the wash before the sky brightened enough to give the waiting gunmen a good look at him.
He swung down from the black and tossed his Stetson into the back of the buggy. Arturo handed him Kiley’s wider-brimmed hat. Conrad settled it on his head, then shrugged into the long duster they had brought with them.
“From a distance, you’ll look enough like him to fool them,” Arturo said with a satisfied nod.
“That’s the idea.” Conrad untied Kiley’s dun from the back of the buggy.
Selena jumped to the ground and went over to him. “I’ve only known you for a few hours, and already this is the second time I’m telling you to be careful and not get killed.”
“You might as well get used to it,” Arturo put in.
Conrad smiled. “I’ll be all right,” he told Selena. “When they see me coming, they’ll think I’m Kiley and they’ll wonder where I’ve been all night. They’ll be too curious to start shooting until it’s too late.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Conrad turned to Arturo. “I’ll come back and get you when it’s safe. Until then, stay here and keep your eyes open. Keep your Winchester handy, too.”
“Like it’s my oldest, dearest friend,” Arturo promised.
Conrad mounted up, nodded to them, and heeled Kiley’s horse into motion. The dun was a big, strong animal, and soon it stretched its legs into a smooth, ground-eating lope.
Conrad followed the twin dark lines of the rails as they arrowed westward. Arturo, Selena, and the buggy were soon out of sight behind him, disappearing into the thick gray predawn gloom. A cold wind swept the arid landscape.
Half an hour later, the sky was light enough that Conrad was able to spot something sticking up beside the tracks about half a mile ahead of him. He slowed the dun to a walk. Within a few minutes, he recognized the shape as a big round water tank elevated on a spidery framework of wooden legs. An eerie creaking sound drifted to his ears. After a second, he identified it as the blades turning on the adjacent windmill that pumped water from deep under the ground into the tank.
Conrad maintained his slow, steady approach. He came to the wash, a dry, wide, shallow cut in the ground that once or twice a year would fill with raging water during the flash floods caused by an occasional downpour making its way through the normally arid landscape. A trestle spanned the wash. Conrad rode onto it. The dun’s shoes clinked against the cinders of the roadbed as the horse picked its way along, putting its hooves down between the crossties.
Conrad looked intently at the shed next to the water tank. He didn’t see any movement, but it was big enough the two avenging angels and their horses could be concealed behind it. If they were there, likely they had spotted him already. They would be watching—ready for trouble—trying to make out his identity.
The dun reached the end of the trestle. Conrad moved the horse to the side of the rails again and urged it into a slightly faster pace. He was ready to get it over with, no matter how it played out.
The water tank was about a hundred yards beyond the wash. Conrad had covered half that distance when he saw two men step out from behind the shed, just as he expected. They were holding rifles, but as he tensed, poised to reach for his own Winchester which he had slipped into Kiley’s saddle boot, one of the men suddenly took off his hat and waved it over his head in what Conrad took to be an all-clear signal. His heart thudded in his chest as he rode closer. His masquerade had worked, at least so far.
Only twenty yards more.
The man waving his hat clapped it back on his head and called, “Hey, Kiley, where have you been? We expected you a long time ago!”
The other man moved a step closer and asked a question of his own. “Did you run into trouble?”
Conrad didn’t answer. He just kept the horse moving and narrowed the gap between him and the avenging angels that much more. He was almost in handgun range. . . .
The second man stopped short, shouted, “That’s not Kiley!” and jerked his rifle to his shoulder. Flame spouted from the weapon’s muzzle.
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