J.A. Johnstone - The Loner - Crossfire

They hadn’t taken away the revolver he had brought with him from the ship, so as long as he was armed, he was willing to play along with the Chinese criminals.

Ling Yuan took him to a room where a young woman in a red silk dress waited on a divan. At first glance Conrad thought she was Chinese, because she had dark hair and eyes, but then he took a closer look and saw that she was white. She was short and slender but well-curved. The skimpy dress she wore looked like something you’d find on a saloon girl.

Her eyes were big with fear, especially when she glanced at Ling Yuan.

“Who are you?” she demanded of Conrad. “When am I going to get out of here?”

“I can’t answer the second part of that, but my name is Conrad Browning.”

Her eyes widened with recognition. “You’re Mr. Morgan’s son! The one he was looking for.”

“You know Frank?” The girl’s words had taken Conrad by surprise.

“We met earlier today. It’s because of him that I’m being held prisoner by these ... these ...” She glanced at Ling Yuan again, obviously too scared to go on.

The big hatchet man’s face remained impassive. “You have not been harmed, have you?”

“Well ... no. But I want to get out of here.”

“At the moment, that is impossible. But no harm will come to you. You have Wong Duck’s word on that, and mine as well. Wong Duck has suggested that while you are here, perhaps your time could be spent productively by tending to Mr. Browning’s injuries.”

“What? I’m no nurse. I’m a ... Well, it’s pretty obvious what I am, isn’t it?”

Ling Yuan ignored that question. He gestured toward a door at the side of the room. “Through that door is a place where you can get a basin of water, as you have no doubt already discovered. There are cloths in there as well. Please help Mr. Browning clean his injuries while I bring fresh garments for him to wear.”

Conrad said, “Not, uh—”

Ling Yuan laughed. “You do not want to wear the garb of a hatchet man, my friend? Do not worry. As you have seen, Wong Duck prefers Western-style clothing to go with the Western name he has adopted. I will bring you something suitable.”

With that, he inclined his head in what Conrad recognized as a gesture of farewell and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Conrad was alone with the frightened girl. “You know who I am. What’s your name?”

“Connie,” she told him. “You’re really Conrad Browning?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I guess it won’t hurt anything if I help out, like that big monster said.”

Conrad wasn’t sure he would describe Ling Yuan as a monster, but the man might look like that to her.

She went into the other room and came back with a basin of water and several clean white cloths. “Sit down on the divan. I’ll see if I can get that dried blood off your face. What did they do, beat you?”

“Yes. Not Ling Yuan and his friends, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. They’re the ones who rescued me.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth for a second as she sat down next to him and dipped a cloth in the water. “Our names are sort of alike, aren’t they? Conrad and Connie?”

“I noticed that.”

She started dabbing at the blood on his face. “My real name is Constance, but I like Connie better. Some of the girls who work at the Golden Gate don’t use their real names. They make up something instead. But I never saw any point in trying to pretend I’m somebody I’m not, did you?”

He could tell she was talking mostly to keep her jagged nerves under control. Thinking about the time he had spent as Kid Morgan, he said, “I can understand why somebody would feel that way. Maybe they want to forget the lives they left behind.”

“Or maybe they’re just ashamed to admit they work in a saloon.” She gave a defiant little toss of her head. “If anybody doesn’t like who I am or what I do, they can just go—”

Conrad winced a little as she wiped the wet cloth over one of the scrapes on his forehead.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s all right,” he assured her. “It just stings a little.”

“I wish we had some whiskey. I’d use it to clean all these scrapes and scratches.” She giggled. “Of course, that would sting even more.”

He was glad to see she was relaxing a little. “So you work at the Golden Gate.”

“That’s right. I was there earlier today when your father came in, then a bunch of those Chinamen busted in and all hell broke loose. I got knocked down in the rush to get away from the trouble, and I probably would have been trampled if it hadn’t been for Mr. Morgan. He grabbed me and got me to safety.” She paused and made a face. “Of course, then the Chinamen grabbed him and took him out of there, and they brought me along, too. But it could have been worse.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if she was afraid someone was listening in on their conversation. “I think that big one they call Ling Yuan wanted to kill me, right then and there.”

“Probably not.” Although in all honesty Conrad had to admit he didn’t really know what Ling Yuan was capable of. The men were criminals, after all. He figured they could be pretty ruthless.

When she had finished cleaning the blood off his face, Connie said, “You’ve got blood on that shirt, too, and Ling Yuan said he was bringing you some clean clothes. Why don’t you go ahead and take it off? You may have some other wounds that need attention.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

She smiled. “There’s no reason for you to be shy, Mr. Browning. It’s not like I’d see anything I haven’t seen before. In fact, you could take all your clothes off and I wouldn’t see anything I haven’t—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “It’s not that. I just don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Maybe not ... but we don’t have to have a good reason for everything we do in this life, do we?”

For a long time after Rebel’s death, Conrad had had no interest in women, not like that, anyway. He was in mourning, and even after a suitable period of time had passed, he still felt like he would be disloyal to her if he took up with another woman.

He had let his guard down with the redheaded bounty hunter, Lace McCall, and almost without realizing what was happening, he had developed genuine feelings for her. Then she had been wounded because of another scheme tracing back to Pamela Tarleton, and shortly afterward Conrad had found out about his missing children. He had been busy since then, but Claudius Turnbuckle was keeping tabs on Lace while she recuperated from her injuries. Conrad intended to get back in touch with her ... someday.

In the meantime, he had too much on his mind to consider dallying with the saloon girl, no matter how attractive she was.

The door opened and Ling Yuan came back in carrying an expensive black suit. “Appropriate to wear to a party such as the one you will attend this evening, according to Wong Duck.” He held out the clothes to Conrad, who took them and agreed with the assessment.

Ling Yuan turned to Connie. “You will come with me.”

Instantly, her fear was back. “What are you going to do with me?”

“You will be taken to Wong Duck’s home and will continue to be his guest there.”

“I thought this was his house,” Conrad said.

Ling Yuan shook his head. “This is his place of business.”

“I ... I don’t want to go,” Connie said. “I want to stay with Mr. Browning.”

“You can’t do that,” Conrad told her. “I have places to go.”

She pouted. “And I won’t fit in there, will I?”