J.A. Johnstone - The Loner - Crossfire

Conrad scrambled to his feet. He wanted to rush over to Frank, who had fallen near the fireplace. But he had emptied his guns, and one thing Frank had taught him was to reload as soon as possible after a gun battle. Conrad holstered the .38 and started plucking .45 rounds from the loops on his gunbelt. With fingers trembling just a little, he slid the cartridges into the Colt’s cylinder.

Only when he had a loaded weapon in his hand again did he hurry over to Frank and drop to one knee. Frank was still breathing, Conrad saw to his great relief. He rolled Frank onto his back and saw blood on his right trouser leg, as well as on his shirt.

Frank opened his eyes and grimaced in pain. “You get ’em?”

“Yeah,” Conrad said. “I got them.”

“Figured you would ... if I drew ’em out.”

“How bad are you hurt, Frank?”

“Not bad. Just creased a few more times. I’ll be fine.” Frank lifted a hand and clutched Conrad’s arm. “Help me into a chair, and then you go ... go find Lannigan.”

“You need me to patch up these wounds—”

“Not yet. I’ll bet ... Lannigan’s still around here ... somewhere. You find him ... settle up with him.”

Conrad nodded, feeling a tightness in his chest and in his throat. He had lived most of his life unaware of Frank Morgan’s very existence. The thought that Frank might not be around made Conrad feel like he couldn’t catch his breath.

He lifted Frank and settled him in one of the big armchairs. Conrad reloaded his father’s gun and slipped it into Frank’s hand. “Just in case I didn’t kill all those varmints and one or two still have some fight in them.”

Frank nodded. “Don’t worry. I can handle ’em.”

“I know that. I’ll be back.”

He checked through the lodge quickly but found no sign of Lannigan. That gave him a chance to check all the bodies, and confirm the hired killers were all dead.

There was also no indication Winifred and the children were there, or had ever been there, for that matter. Lannigan had been telling the truth about that , anyway.

When Conrad returned to the big main room, he told Frank, “Lannigan’s gone. But you don’t have to worry about any of those other men. They’re done for.”

Frank grunted and hefted the gun in his hand. “I wasn’t worried.” His voice sounded stronger. “Lannigan may still be waiting around outside to see what happens, or he might’ve lit a shuck away from here. Maybe you can find him, or pick up his trail.”

“You’ll be all right?”

“Better than all right. Now that I know I’m not gonna have to duck bullets any second, I can tie up some of these creases myself.”

Conrad nodded. He went out the front door carefully, with his gun up and ready for trouble. Lamps on the porch cast a wide circle of light in front of the house. His eyes scanned the landscape around the lodge carefully, but he didn’t see Lannigan anywhere. The road leading up the mountain from the bay ended in a large area covered with gravel. Conrad looked it over to see if he could find any fresh hoofprints, but he didn’t spot any.

Gun in hand, he turned toward the dark barn. Lannigan might be hiding in there, waiting for some of his gunmen to come to him and report that the intruders were dead.

Conrad was about twenty feet from the open double doors of the barn when a mounted figure suddenly exploded out of them, spurring straight toward him. He caught a glimpse of Dex Lannigan’s rage-twisted face as the man shouted incoherently. Lannigan had a gun in his hand. It roared as he jerked the trigger as fast as he could.

Conrad threw himself aside to keep from being trampled or shot full of holes. As the galloping horse pounded toward him he dropped his gun and lunged, reaching for Lannigan as horse and rider flashed by. Conrad caught hold of Lannigan’s leg and dragged him off the horse. Lannigan toppled out of the saddle with a startled yell and crashed to the ground, his gun flying through the air.

Conrad stood over the man. “Get up! Get up, Lannigan. We’ll have this out, you and me.”

Lannigan started to climb to his feet, then drove forward in a diving tackle that caught Conrad around the knees. Conrad expected a trick like that, but Lannigan’s move was too fast to avoid. Conrad went down hard and Lannigan swarmed after him, hammering fists into his body.

Conrad brought a knee up and drove it into Lannigan’s belly. At the same time, he caught hold of the man’s shirt front and heaved him to the side. Lannigan rolled a couple times but snapped a kick behind him catching Conrad in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He fought through the pain and launched himself at Lannigan again.

Gradually, both men struggled to their feet, pounding each other, and stood toe to toe, slugging it out. Blood dripped in Conrad’s eyes from a cut on his forehead. Lannigan’s eyes were swollen. They wheezed and fought for breath. No one could stand up for long to the sort of punishment they were each dealing out and absorbing.

Lannigan caught Conrad on the jaw with a looping right, then bored in and started to grapple with him. Conrad felt it when Lannigan plucked the Bowie knife from the sheath on his left hip. Twisting, Conrad got a hand on Lannigan’s wrist just in time to stop the man from plunging the blade into his side. Conrad hooked a punch with his other hand into Lannigan’s belly. Lannigan stumbled, off balance. Conrad gave Lannigan’s wrist a hard twist, caught hold of his shoulder, and rammed his own body forward against the gambler.

Lannigan screamed as the collision sent twelve inches of cold steel slicing into his gut. Conrad had managed to turn the knife so it was pointing at Lannigan before they crashed together.

Conrad let go and stepped back. Lannigan swayed, his fingers still wrapped around the Bowie’s handle. He pawed at it but couldn’t pull it free. It wouldn’t have mattered if he did. The damage was already done. Blood leaked out around the knife, and the crimson stain spread rapidly.

“Lannigan,” Conrad said in an urgent voice. “Lannigan, is it true? What you told me about the children ... is it true? You’ve got nothing to lose now by telling me.”

Lannigan was looking down at the knife handle protruding from his belly. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet Conrad’s gaze, then started to laugh. The laughter was so hard it shook him and made the blood flow even faster.

Then he gasped, made a grotesque gurgling sound, and blood spilled from his mouth. His eyes opened wide but no longer saw anything. He pitched forward and lay on the ground motionless, curled around the blade that had ended his life.

Conrad stood looking at the dead gambler when he caught a glimpse of motion from the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw Ling Yuan standing there.

“It is done,” the big hatchet man said.

“Yes, it’s done. Diamond Jack’s dirty work is done for him, so he won’t have to go to war against the rest of the Barbary Coast. That’s what he wanted all along, isn’t it?”

Ling Yuan didn’t answer.

“You’ve been lurking around here, haven’t you?” Conrad went on. “You’ve probably got a dozen more hatchet men hidden in the trees. If Frank and I had failed, you’d have killed Lannigan and made it look like one of us did it. But now you won’t even have to go to that much trouble. We took care of it for you.”

“Is Mr. Morgan all right?” Ling Yuan asked.

Conrad jerked a thumb toward the lodge. “He’s in there shot up a little, but he’ll be fine.”

Ling Yuan nodded and appeared to be satisfied. “His wounds will be cared for. We will bring your horses and help you get back to San Francisco.”

Conrad started to respond angrily and tell the man they didn’t need his help, but he changed his mind. Might as well get something out of this whole mess, he thought.