J.A. Johnstone - The Loner - Crossfire

Frank came up to the railing beside him. “Lannigan’s liable to have the local law up there on his side. Remember, he has the San Francisco police convinced you’re loco ... and dangerous.”

Conrad nodded. “I know.” Claudius Turnbuckle had warned them about that earlier.

“Don’t tell me where you’re going,” the lawyer had said. “I don’t want to have to lie to the police if they question me again ... and it’s likely they will. The captain of the boat doesn’t need to know, either. It’s bad enough he can tell the authorities that he dropped you on the other side of the bay.”

“Don’t worry, Claudius,” Conrad had assured him. “As far as you’re concerned, you don’t know a thing about what we’re going to do.”

“I’m not worried about myself. I just don’t want to have to tell the police anything that will hurt your chances of getting those children away from Lannigan. For what it’s worth, I’ll be filing suit this morning seeking to have the adoption set aside as being illegal because of fraud, and asking that custody of the twins be awarded to you.”

“How long will that take?” Conrad had asked.

Turnbuckle’s silent shrug had been answer enough.

Frank said quietly, “If you get your hands on those kids, you aren’t going back, are you?”

“To put them through a long, drawn-out court case where they might be considered wards of the state and forced to live in an orphanage until things were decided?” Conrad shook his head. “No. Claudius can fight it out in the courts. Little Frank and Vivian and I will be somewhere nobody can find us.”

“You’ll be making a fugitive out of yourself, and them, too,” Frank pointed out.

“Do you think I should do things differently?” Conrad asked sharply.

“Don’t go by me. I’ve been a fugitive plenty of times in my life. Just because the law is the law doesn’t mean it’s always right. But it is still the law, and it’s not a good thing to have it after you.”

“I’ll risk it,” Conrad said. “For the sake of those two youngsters, I’ll risk anything.”

Frank nodded. “Reckon I know how you feel.” He had risked his own life for Conrad on numerous occasions.

The boat belonged to a fisherman Turnbuckle had represented in a court case. The man wasn’t wealthy like most of Turnbuckle’s clients, but the lawyer took cases like that from time to time. He had prevailed in court, and the fisherman owed him a favor. He had agreed to ferry Conrad and Frank across the bay and drop them off in a secluded cove south of Oakland. A pair of horses would be waiting there, also arranged by Turnbuckle.

There had been no sign of Ling Yuan or any of Diamond Jack’s other men. Conrad figured the tong leader was sitting back and waiting to see what was going to happen.

The fishing boat chugged into the cove, close enough for the captain to run a board to the shore. He shook hands with Conrad and Frank. “I don’t know what you fellas are up to, but I’ve got a hunch it’s somethin’ pretty important. Best of luck to you.”

Conrad nodded. “Thanks, Captain.”

Trees grew almost to the edge of the water. The pair of horses were tied up about twenty yards into the woods, as Turnbuckle had promised. Frank took the big bay, Conrad the thick-chested dun.

Ling Yuan had drawn them a map to Lannigan’s hunting lodge. “You’ve been there before, spying on him, haven’t you?” Conrad had asked.

“Wong Duck says one of the keys to defeating an enemy is first observing him.”

Conrad wondered why Diamond Jack hadn’t had Lannigan killed before now. He supposed it was because such an assassination might trigger an all-out war between the tongs and the white underworld of the Barbary Coast.

If, on the other hand, Lannigan were to be killed by a couple white men, because of something that had nothing to do with the saloon owner’s rivalry with the tongs, then Diamond Jack could claim he’d had nothing to do with it. That might be enough to avoid an orgy of bloodshed that could seriously cripple both factions.

They came to a narrow trail that Ling Yuan had marked on the map. “Lannigan’s place is about five miles up in the mountains,” Conrad said. “This trail is supposed to lead us around behind it. According to Ling Yuan, Lannigan doesn’t know it exists.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Frank cautioned. “Lannigan struck me as being pretty sharp. I’m not sure he’d have a back door into his place that wasn’t protected.”

“We’ll just have to be careful. This won’t be the first time I’ve snuck into somewhere that was guarded, and I’ll bet it won’t be for you, either.”

Frank smiled in the shadows underneath the trees. “You’d win that bet.”

They rode on, following the trail that was so faint, sometimes it was hard to see, even for a veteran frontiersman like Frank. They didn’t lose it, though, and their route gradually took them upward, higher into the mountains. The trees thinned out some but were still thick enough to provide cover. Because the route twisted back and forth to avoid natural obstacles, they wound up traveling much farther than five miles. Hours passed as they climbed toward their destination.

Eventually Conrad came out on a shoulder that curved around the mountainside. He reached a spot where he could dismount and crawl forward to look over the edge of a bluff. The roof of a sprawling, two-story log building nestled in the trees was visible below. That would be Lannigan’s lodge, according to Ling Yuan’s map. The place matched the hatchet man’s description, right down to the small barn and corral off to one side. Several horses were in that corral, including the six matched blacks that made up the team for Lannigan’s carriage. Conrad had no trouble recognizing the horses. They had almost trampled him the night before.

Two men armed with shotguns stood near the lodge’s rear door. Conrad spotted two more roaming through the trees. He figured there would be more guards in front of the lodge, and maybe on the sides of the sprawling building. There were bound to be gunmen inside the lodge, too, along with Lannigan, Winifred, and the twins.

Conrad heard a footstep behind him. A harsh voice said, “I don’t know who you are, mister, but if you move I’ll blow your brains out. You work for that Browning bastard?”

“No, I am that Browning bastard.”

The man behind him let out a startled curse. Over the sound of it, Conrad heard a sudden rush of footsteps, then the solid thud of gun butt striking skull. He rolled over and saw Frank lowering the limp body of an unconscious man to the ground. The man’s rifle lay where it had fallen.

“Figured there would be somebody keeping an eye on this spot,” Frank said. “You drew him out just like we thought you would. That was quite a risk you ran, though. He could’ve just shot you in the back.”

Conrad stood up and shook his head. “No, I figured he’d be curious about who I was and try to take me prisoner. Are you sure there was just one guard?”

“Pretty sure. After we split up, I circled higher and got above this shoulder. Had a pretty good view of the hombre sneaking up on you. He appeared to be alone.”

“All right.” Conrad glanced at the sky. It had taken them most of the day to climb to the lodge, and night would be falling soon. “Once it’s dark, we can climb down that bluff and try to make it into the house.”

“Those shotgun-toters will probably have something to say about that.”

Conrad grunted. “So will we.”

Frank grinned and slapped Conrad on the shoulder. “It’s good working with you again, son.”

“Likewise.” Conrad paused. “Just don’t expect me to start calling you Pa.”