Free The Loner by J.A. Johnstone Page B

Canyon.
    Conrad’s thoughts were a confused, frightened jumble in his head. Most of the fright was for Rebel’s safety, of course, but he knew he was nervous about how he would handle himself tonight as well. Danger had tested him in the past and he had always come through, but that was no guarantee he would again. He had big footsteps to follow, the footsteps of Frank Morgan.
    That’s loco, Conrad, he seemed to hear his father saying. Follow your own trail, not mine, and don’t walk in fear. You’ll be all right. You’ll do just fine. Do your best, and don’t back down.
    Conrad took comfort from the words. A flesh-and-blood Frank Morgan would have been better, but right now he would take what he could get.
    He was able to find the trail to Black Rock Canyon without much difficulty, although a time or two he worried that he had taken a wrong turn. Eventually, though, he spotted the huge rock formation that loomed above the canyon and knew he was in the right place. The bluff towered eighty or a hundred feet above the canyon floor, and formed a patch of even deeper darkness because it blotted out some of the stars. Conrad saw it above the tops of the pine trees that bordered the trail.
    He didn’t know when or how the kidnappers would stop him and demand the ransom, but he assumed they would whenever they were good and ready. He didn’t bother taking out his watch to check the time. He would have had to strike a match in order to see it, and he didn’t want to do that.
    Every muscle in his body was taut with tension. His heart pounded, causing the blood to pulse in a frantic drumbeat inside his head. He had trouble catching his breath. He imagined this must be what it felt like to be drowning.
    Suddenly, a voice called out, “That’s far enough, Browning!”
    Conrad hauled back hard on the reins. He was glad the kidnappers were confronting him at last. Anything was better than just driving slowly along in the buggy and waiting for them to show themselves.
    What happened next surprised him. Several torches blazed into life along both sides of the trail. The harsh light from them washed over the buggy so that Conrad couldn’t make a move without the kidnappers being able to see what he was doing. They were smart. They didn’t trust him any more than he trusted them.
    A man stepped out into the middle of the trail, in front of the buggy. Conrad half expected to see the ginger-bearded man, but this fellow was one he’d never seen before. He was tall and burly, with a deeply tanned, rough-hewn face.
    “Are you alone, Browning?” he asked.
    “Your note said for me to come alone,” Conrad snapped. “I’m cooperating. I want my wife back.”
    “You’ll get her, if you do as you’re told. If you don’t…” The man waved a hand toward the trees alongside the trail. “There are a dozen rifles trained on you right now. Try any tricks, and you’ll wind up ventilated.”
    Conrad looked toward the trees. Enough light from the torches penetrated into the shadows underneath them for him to be able to see the barrels of those rifles the kidnapper had mentioned. He also caught glimpses of some of the men holding the weapons. He recognized several of them from the previous encounter, including a huge, moonfaced man who was so big, he stuck out from both sides of the tree trunk he was using for cover, a bearded Mexican with a steeple-crowned sombrero, and an older, ugly man in a black vest and with black sleeve cuffs. Conrad stared at them over the barrels of their rifles and committed each face to memory in turn.
    He would never forget any of them. Their images would be burned into his brain until the day he died.
    Which might be today, he reminded himself. He was badly outnumbered, if it came down to a fight.
    A wry smile tugged at his mouth. “You should hope your men are good shots,” he said to the spokesman.
    That comment put a frown on the man’s face. “Why the hell do you say that?”
    Conrad nodded to the