The Loner: The Blood of Renegades

by J. A. Johnstone

  “While it was still light I noticed a little trail leading to the top. If I can get up there, I’ll hear them when they ride up and maybe I can eavesdrop on whatever they say. It could give us a real advantage if we know what their plans are.”

  “That’s a very astute observation and a cunning stratagem,” Arturo said. “I’ll stand guard here, I assume?”

  “That’s the plan,” Conrad said.

  “Very good. Be careful, sir.”

  “Yes.” Selena moved closer to Conrad in the darkness. She reached out and rested her hand on his arm for a second. “Be careful. I really don’t want you getting killed on my account.”

  “I don’t intend to,” Conrad said.

  He took his Winchester but left his horse, heading off on foot back in the direction they had come from. He moved at an easy trot that ate up the ground but was almost noiseless.

  Lit by the faint, silvery glow of the stars, the landscape around him was eerie, and once again Conrad was struck by how alien his surroundings were, as if he were on some other planet. At times he felt like the only human presence in a vast emptiness.

  But that wasn’t true, of course. Other humans were out there in the darkness, and unfortunately, they wanted him dead.

  He was going to do his very best to disappoint them.

  His sense of direction didn’t betray him. The mesa where he and Arturo and Selena had camped briefly loomed up ahead of him. He paused to listen but didn’t hear men or animals moving around anywhere. Hoping he wasn’t headed right into a trap, he resumed trotting toward the mesa.

  When he reached it, he had to hunt around for a few minutes before he found the trail he had noticed earlier. It was a rough ledge barely wide enough for one man that wound around the mesa. The footing was treacherous. Taking it slow he climbed toward the top. At one point a rock rolled under his foot, nearly throwing him off balance. The mesa wasn’t that tall, seventy or eighty feet maybe, but a fall from the ledge might prove fatal. At the very least he would be hurt badly enough to be easy prey for Leatherwood and his avenging angels.

  The climb took several minutes, but when Conrad reached the top he could see for a long way all around. During the day the view would extend for miles.

  The mesa was about a hundred yards in diameter. A few bushes grew on top, but mostly the vegetation consisted of clumps of grass. Conrad stretched out not far from the edge overlooking the spot where their camp had been. From there he could also cover the top of the trail. If Leatherwood and the other gunmen discovered he was up there, they would have him trapped. There was nowhere for him to go unless he sprouted wings and flew away. But, they would have to come up that ledge one at a time, and he could pick them off with ease. They would have to starve him out—

  Which they might be perfectly capable of doing. Conrad wouldn’t be surprised at all if they were that merciless.

  The ground retained some of the day’s warmth, even though the sun had set several hours earlier, but the night breezes sweeping the top of the mesa grew increasingly chilly. Conrad didn’t mind. The cool air helped keep him awake.

  His senses were attuned to his surroundings, but he knew his hearing was the most valuable. In all likelihood he would hear the approach of the gunmen before he saw them . . . assuming they showed up at all.

  The minutes dragged past. He wasn’t sure how long he had been waiting, but thought the moon ought to be rising any time. If Leatherwood was going to make a move, it would have to be soon.

  A few moments later, he heard a faint, almost indiscernible clink!—the sound of metal hitting rock—someone’s spur, a gun barrel, something like that. It was enough to tell him someone was out there. Silently, he crawled forward until he could look over the mesa’s rim.

  Suddenly, orange flame burst out below him. The glare was blindingly bright to eyes long accustomed to darkness. He jerked his head down and squeezed his eyes closed, hoping his night vision hadn’t been completely ruined.

  During that fleeting instant when the fire seemed to fill his sight, he caught a glimpse of the blazing brand—a bundle of sagebrush or greasewood—as it flew through the air toward the campsite. He thought whoever had thrown it had two reasons for doing so. He wanted to blind and disorient the people who were supposed to be camping there . . .

  And he wanted some light to shoot by.

  That was confirmed a second later when a harsh voice shouted, “Hold your fire, hold your fire! They’re not here!”

  Jackson Leatherwood. Conrad was sure of it. The leader of the avenging angels had brought his men to wipe out Conrad and Arturo and recapture Selena Webster, but the plan had come up empty.

  The bundle of burning brush lay on the ground near the foot of the cliff. Ominous shapes moved out of the darkness and into the edge of the circle of light cast by the flames. Conrad recognized the wide-brimmed hats and the long coats. He even got a look at Leatherwood’s scarred face as the man strode forward and angrily kicked the burning brush apart, scattering it and causing sparks to fly in the air.

  “They didn’t make camp here after all,” Leatherwood said. “They must have eaten supper and moved on.”

  “But I saw them,” one of the men whined. “They unsaddled their horses, unhitched the team from the buggy, and spread their bedrolls.”

  “Tricks!” Leatherwood raged. “Tricks meant to fool you—and they did!”

  “I’m sorry, Jackson,” the man muttered.

  Leatherwood stomped around a little more, letting off steam. “The closest good water is in the tanks at Frenchman’s Flat. They’ll have to head there or the water stop on the railroad at Navajo Wash. We’ll split up. Kiley, take two of the men and ride to the wash. The rest of us will go to Frenchman’s Flat.”

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea dividing our forces like that, Jackson?” Kiley asked. His voice, along with those of the others, was crystal clear to Conrad on top of the mesa.

  “There were only two men,” Leatherwood snapped.

  “Plus the girl. That makes three. The odds are even if you count her.”

  “She’s a girl. She’s not going to fight.”

  “She had the gumption to run away from Elder Hissop,” Kiley pointed out. “She might surprise you.”

  “Let’s get back to the horses,” Leatherwood said. “God is on our side. He’s not going to take the side of a couple Gentiles and a wayward girl over His own avenging angels.”

  Conrad hoped Leatherwood was wrong about that.

  In order to keep dodging trouble until they got out of the reach of those fanatical gunmen, he and Arturo and Selena could use all the help they could get, divine or otherwise.

  Chapter 6

  Conrad waited while the men walked off and vanished into the darkness. They were no longer trying to be quiet, so he was able to hear their footsteps. A few minutes later, the swift rataplan of hoofbeats drifted to his ears as the avenging angels rode away from the mesa.

  He waited until he couldn’t hear the horses at all, then waited some more. Finally satisfied the gunmen were gone, he stood up, made his way to the ledge, and started down.

  As he climbed he thought about what to do next. He and Arturo had several canteens full of water, as well as a small barrel of it stowed in the back of the buggy, but it was a long, dry stretch across that part of Utah. Conrad had planned to take advantage of the water stops along the railroad.

  He’d just learned some of their enemies would be waiting for them at Navajo Wash, so that was out. And so were the tanks at Frenchman’s Flat, wherever that was. Maybe Selena would know of another place they could replenish their water supply.

  When he reached the bottom of the trail, he turned in the direction of the rocks, but had taken only a couple steps before he heard an all-too-familiar sound behind him—the ugly, metallic ratcheting of a gun being cocked.

  A hard voice immediately followed. “Don’t move, mister. It’ll be easier on me keeping you alive, but I’ll shoot you if I have to.”


  Conrad froze. He recognized the voice. “Kiley.”

  “You know me?”

  “Only by what Leatherwood called you. I thought you went to Navajo Wash.”

  “I know what you thought,” Kiley said with a note of boastful pride. “I told the other men with me to go on, that I’d catch up to them at the wash, then doubled back here on foot. I spotted that little ledge when we were here earlier. Jackson never noticed it, but I thought at least one of you might be on top of the mesa. Looks like I was right. I would have gone up, but I heard you coming down and decided to wait and get the drop on you.”

  “You want all the credit for bringing back the girl, don’t you? You’re trying to impress Father Agony so he’ll make you the top man in his gang.”

  Conrad heard the sharp, angry hiss of breath between Kiley’s teeth. “Don’t you disrespect Elder Hissop by using that awful name for him. You shouldn’t refer to the avenging angels as a gang, either. We’re doing the Lord’s work.”

  “By killing?”

  “If that’s what it takes. Now tell me, are the other two still up there?”

  “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “Then you’re a fool. I’ll put a bullet in your knee so you can’t run and you’ll hurt so bad you’ll tell me anything I want to know. Or you can cooperate, and once I have the girl, I’ll let you and your friend go.”

  Normally Conrad wouldn’t have believed a promise like that. He didn’t know Mormons well enough to be sure what they might do, however. Maybe Kiley was telling the truth.

  It didn’t really matter. Conrad wasn’t going to turn Selena over to him. No matter how Agonistes Hissop’s other wives felt about it, Selena regarded marriage to the elder as being locked away in prison, and Conrad wasn’t going to condemn her to that.

  His mind raced furiously. His options were limited. In the bad light he might be able to throw himself to the side, whirl around, and drill Kiley with a round from the Winchester before the man could shoot him. But Kiley would get at least one shot off, and the sound of the blasts would travel a long way over the desert. Leatherwood and the rest of the avenging angels would hear them and likely come galloping back.

  He decided for the moment the best thing to do was stall and wait for an opportunity. “All right,” he said with a defeated sigh. “They’re waiting up there while I check things out down here. You can go up and see for yourself.”

  “And turn my back on you?” Kiley laughed. “I don’t think so. You go up the trail first.”

  Conrad didn’t know Kiley, but the gunman didn’t know him, either. He had no idea Conrad Browning would never give in so easily.

  “All right,” he said as he started toward the ledge, dropping the Winchester. “Just be careful with that gun. I don’t want you shooting me accidentally.”

  “If I shoot you, it won’t be by accident.”

  Conrad stepped onto the ledge. He kept his hands in plain sight so Kiley wouldn’t get nervous and trigger-happy. In some places the path was so steep and rough he had to rest his left hand on the mesa wall to steady himself. He heard Kiley breathing hard a few steps behind him.

  If he climbed all the way to the top Kiley would realize Arturo and Selena weren’t there. He would be in the same position he’d been in when Kiley first got the drop on him. Conrad needed to turn the tables on the gunman.

  Recognizing the spot where he’d almost lost his balance Conrad stepped over the rock in the trail. Planting his foot, he kicked back. His boot heel hit the rock and sent it rolling down the trail right under Kiley’s feet.

  The gunman let out a startled yell. As Conrad swung around, he saw that dodging the rock had caused Kiley to lose his balance and fling out both arms to catch himself, which meant the gun in his hand wasn’t pointed at Conrad anymore.

  Lunging at the man Conrad reached out to close his hand over the revolver’s cylinder so the hammer would strike the web of flesh between his thumb and forefinger rather than the bullet in the chamber. In the same movement he swung a hard punch at Kiley’s head, intending to knock Kiley off the ledge and send him plummeting to the hard ground forty feet below. At the very least, a fall like that would injure the gunman enough to render him harmless for a while.

  Kiley jerked his head aside as the glancing blow scraped over his ear. Trying to wrestle his revolver out of Conrad’s grip he lowered his shoulder and bulled into him, slamming him against the mesa’s sandstone wall.

  Neither man said anything as they struggled on the narrow ledge. Kiley got a hand on Conrad’s throat and forced him toward the edge. Conrad planted his feet and jabbed a punch into Kiley’s midsection. The thought crossed Conrad’s mind that they might both topple off the ledge and fall to their deaths.

  He grabbed hold of Kiley’s duster and pulled himself closer. His knee came up, aimed at the gunman’s groin. Kiley twisted aside and took the blow on his thigh. He tightened his grip on Conrad’s throat and drove Conrad’s head against the rock with stunning force that made skyrockets explode inside his skull.

  As he fought to hold on to consciousness, Conrad threw his strength into another heave on the revolver and finally ripped it free of Kiley’s grasp. Slashing at the gunman’s head he felt the butt thud heavily against Kiley’s temple. Kiley groaned in pain and his grip on Conrad’s throat loosened. Conrad took the advantage and knocked Kiley’s hand away from him. For a split second, neither of them had hold of the other.

  Conrad pressed his back against the mesa and lifted his right foot in a kick that landed in Kiley’s belly. Kiley bent over and stumbled back a step, his right foot sliding off the edge of the trail. He yelled and flung his hands out toward the wall in a frantic scrabble for a grip that would save him, but there was nothing there. His arms windmilled futilely as he pitched to the side, away from the mesa. Then he was gone, falling through the darkness as a scream ripped from his throat.

  That scream lasted only a second before an ugly thud abruptly silenced it. Conrad stood with his back against the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His head was still spinning from being rammed against the rock.

  After a few moments, he felt steady enough to straighten and look over the trail’s edge. He saw a dark, unmoving shape sprawled on the ground.

  With Kiley’s unfired gun in his hand, he went back down the trail, moving as quickly as he dared. When he reached the bottom, he kept the revolver leveled at Kiley’s motionless form. As he approached he saw a spreading pool of black under the gunman’s head. Kiley must have landed on a rock that split his skull wide open, Conrad thought.

  He risked checking for a pulse and found none. Kiley was dead. He would do no more avenging for Elder Agonistes Hissop.

  Conrad straightened from that grim task and tucked Kiley’s gun behind his belt. Sooner or later the two men on their way to Navajo Wash would wonder why Kiley hadn’t caught up with them.

  That meant he had a chance to surprise them, Conrad realized. He had to find Kiley’s horse. The animal couldn’t be too far away. He stripped the duster off the dead man, picked up Kiley’s hat, and then headed off into the darkness.

  Chapter 7

  Conrad headed in the direction of Navajo Wash and found the gunman’s horse tied to a mesquite about half a mile from the mesa. He unfastened the reins and led the animal toward the big rocks.

  He had left on foot and was coming back with a horse, so he wasn’t surprised when Arturo called out, “Whoever you are, stop right there! I have a rifle pointed at you, and I’m not afraid to use it!”

  “It’s me, Arturo,” Conrad called back. “I’m coming in.”

  He trotted the rest of the way to the camp in the rocks, where Arturo and Selena greeted him with questions. “Where did you get the horse?” Arturo asked. Selena followed by saying, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Conrad assured her, then turned to Arturo. “The horse belonged to that fellow Kiley who was with Leatherwood earlier.”

  “Belonged?” Artu
ro repeated. “As in, the individual is now dead?”

  “That pretty much sums it up.”

  Selena said, “We didn’t hear any shots.”

  “There weren’t any.” Quickly, Conrad explained how Leatherwood and the other avenging angels had sneaked up on the mesa only to find their quarry gone, then discussed their plans while Conrad was eavesdropping on them. “I thought they were all gone, but when I got down to the bottom of the trail, Kiley was waiting for me. He had doubled back on foot.”

  “And you killed him without firing a shot?” Selena sounded amazed. “How on earth did you manage that?”

  Conrad told them about the fight on the ledge. “It was pretty close to a disaster,” he concluded, “but I was finally able to get the upper hand.”

  “Along with the man’s horse and gun,” Arturo said.

  “That’s not all.” Conrad had draped Kiley’s duster over the saddle and hung the gunman’s hat on the saddlehorn. He took them down and went on, “If I was wearing these and riding this horse, from a distance I could pass for Kiley.”

  “And there are only two men at this place called Navajo Wash,” Arturo said, proving he had caught on to what Conrad was talking about.

  “Exactly. If they think it’s Kiley riding up on them, they won’t be looking for trouble.”

  “Wait a minute,” Selena said. “What is it you’re planning on doing, Mr. Browning? Riding in and shooting it out with those men?”

  “Not necessarily. If I can get close enough without them realizing who I am, I can disarm them, tie them up, and leave them there for Leatherwood to find when he realizes we’re not going to Frenchman’s Flat. That plan depends on a couple things, though. Are you familiar with this Navajo Wash place?”

  Selena nodded. “Elder Hissop had driven some of his cattle there to load them on the train when he sold them and had to ship them out. Sometimes practically the entire community would go along on those trips.”

  “Is there anything there except a water tank so the locomotives can refill their boilers?”