Free The Drifter by William W. Johnstone

the building. Built about two feet off the ground, it was damp, smelled bad, and was littered with trash. He slithered along like a big snake until he was only a few feet away from the two men still left standing.
    â€œI think we got him!” one said.
    â€œThink again,” Frank said from the darkness under the building, and opened fire.
    The two men went down in an awkward sprawl. Frank rolled out from under the building and got to his boots.
    â€œMy leg's broke,” one of the men moaned. “Oh, crap, it hurts bad."
    â€œI'm hard hit,” another one said. “Where is that bastard?"
    â€œRight here,” Frank said. “And if either of you reaches for a gun you're dead."
    â€œSam?” said the one with a broken leg said. “Sam? Answer me, boy."
    There was no response. The only person Sam was going to answer to was God.
    â€œHe's dead,” Frank told the would-be kidnapper just as a crowd began to gather, some of them with lanterns.
    â€œWho the hell are you?” The other outlaw groaned the question.
    Frank ignored that. “Get the doctor.” He tossed the command to the gathering crowd. “And someone else get the undertaker."
    â€œWho are these men?” someone in the crowd asked. “And what did they do?"
    â€œThey're part of the Pine and Vanbergen gangs,” Frank told him. “They were attempting to kidnap Mrs. Browning for ransom."
    â€œGood God!” a man said.
    â€œHow the hell did you know that?” one of the wounded outlaws asked. “And who the hell are you?"
    â€œSomebody talked,” the other outlaw said. “That's how he knew. Man ... Ned is gonna be pissed about this."
    â€œWho are you?” the outlaw persisted.
    â€œFrank Morgan."
    â€œOh, hell!"
    The town's doctor pushed his way through the growing crowd and ordered lamps brought closer to the wounded men. “That one's dead,” he said, pointing. “This one's got a broken leg.” He moved over to the third man. “Shot in the side. Bullet went clear through. Some of you men carry these men over to the jail. Where is Mr. Malone?"
    â€œRight here,” a tall thin man said, pushing his way through the crowd. “How many dead?"
    â€œOne. The other two will live, I'm sure."
    â€œOne is better than none,” Malone the undertaker said. “If he's got the money to pay for my services."
    â€œYou bastard!” the outlaw with the broken leg said. “You give him a decent sendin’ off, damn you."
    â€œHe'll get planted,” Malone said. “How solemn and dignified will depend on the cash in his pockets."
    â€œGet the living out of here,” the doctor told the volunteers.
    Frank spotted Willis in the crowd. “I'm going to need some extra blankets from your store."
    â€œI'll get them and bring them over to the jail,” the store owner said. “Anything else?"
    â€œLaudanum,” the doctor said.
    â€œI'll get it from Jiggs at the apothecary."
    Doc Bracken stood up. “I've done all I can do here."
    â€œI'll be at the jail,” Frank told him.
    When the wounded outlaws were patched up and locked down, Frank went looking for Hal and Jimmy. He found them in their room at the hotel.
    â€œBig doin's, huh, Frank?” Jimmy asked.
    â€œShaping up that way. How tired are you boys?"
    â€œNot tired at all,” Hal replied. “Matter of fact, we had just finished washin’ up and was thinkin’ of findin’ us an all-night poker game."
    Frank told them about the planned kidnapping, and that got their attention.
    â€œWhat can we do to help?” Jimmy asked. “Name it, Frank. We owe you more'un one favor."
    â€œYou'll be well paid for this, I assure you. Want to stand guard at the Browning house?"
    â€œConsider it done. Have you talked to Mrs. Browning about it?"
    â€œI'll do that right now. You boys get dressed and we'll walk over together.” Frank smiled. “That is,