Read Online The Devil's Badland: The Loner by J. A. Johnstone - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J. A. Johnstone
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Mystery & Detective, Revenge, Large Type Books, Western Stories, Murder, Westerns, Crimes against, Investigation, Murder - Investigation, Wives, Wives - Crimes against
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into a fight, if the gunfighter decided to do that. Conrad didn’t know if Trace was the one who had gunned down Charlie MacTavish, but it wouldn’t surprise him a bit to learn that was true. Nor would it surprise him if Trace had provoked the fight.
Even if that wasn’t the case where Charlie was concerned, it could happen easily with James that day. Conrad knew he couldn’t stand by without trying to prevent it.
With a sigh, he stood up, abandoning his post for the moment. He shrugged into his suit jacket and put his hat on. By the time he went downstairs, through the lobby, and out onto the porch, he saw that Margaret and Rory had gone into the store. James was still outside, lounging with a shoulder against one of the posts holding up the awning over the store’s porch.
Conrad looked to his left and saw the Whitfield wagon approaching the hotel. Dave Whitfield heeled his horse into a trot and came on ahead of the wagon, followed by Trace.
Whitfield stiffened in the saddle as he spotted Conrad standing there. At the same time, Trace said, “Boss,” and jerked his head toward James MacTavish on the porch of the general store. Whitfield hauled back on the reins and brought his horse to a skidding stop in front of the hotel as he moved his other hand toward the butt of the gun on his hip.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded. “A trap?”
“Take it easy, Whitfield,” Conrad snapped. “My being here has nothing to do with you.”
Whitfield sneered. “You could’ve fooled me. I see one of those hotheaded MacTavish boys on one side of the street, and their hired gunman on the other. Looks to me like you’re just waiting to get us in a crossfire.”
“If that’s what they plan, boss,” Trace said, “they’re about to be mighty sorry.”
Conrad could tell that the gunman was just aching to slap leather. He shook his head and said, “You’ve still got it all wrong. I’m not working for the MacTavishes. I haven’t even seen them in the past two days, until now. It’s just a coincidence that they came to buy supplies at the same time you got here to pick up your daughter.”
Whitfield’s slab of a jaw hardened even more. “What the hell do you know about my daughter?” he demanded harshly.
Before Conrad could answer, the young woman herself put in an appearance, coming out of the hotel and saying in a bright voice, “Daddy, there you are! I thought I saw you riding into town from my window.” She stopped short. A frown appeared on her face. She noticed the dangerous feeling of tension in the air. “What’s wrong?”
“Go back inside, honey,” Whitfield told her. “It’s about to get mighty noisy out here.”
Chapter 7
“Dad, what’s going on here?” Angeline asked with a worried frown.
“Those damned MacTavishes and their hired gun are tryin’ to start a ruckus,” Whitfield answered. “Get back inside the hotel now!”
Without taking his eyes off Trace, Conrad said, “That might be a good idea, Miss Whitfield.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Angeline insisted. “I don’t see any hired gunman, Dad.”
Whitfield gestured with his left hand toward Conrad. “This fancy-dressed hombre right here.”
Angeline laughed. “Are you joking? This is Conrad Browning. He’s no hired gun.”
Whitfield’s frown deepened. “How do you know him? Has he been botherin’ you, honey?”
“Not at all. In fact, he’s been a perfect gentleman…which is just what you’d expect from one of the wealthiest businessmen in the country.”
When he heard that, Whitfield’s eyes widened. “What in blazes are you talkin’ about, girl?”
“This man is Conrad Browning,” Angeline repeated. “He owns railroads and mines and banks. He’s not a gunman, and even if he was, he wouldn’t have any reason to hire out to a bunch of ragged squatters like the MacTavishes.”
Conrad heard the scorn in her voice. It caused his estimation of her to drop a little more, even though he once
Even if that wasn’t the case where Charlie was concerned, it could happen easily with James that day. Conrad knew he couldn’t stand by without trying to prevent it.
With a sigh, he stood up, abandoning his post for the moment. He shrugged into his suit jacket and put his hat on. By the time he went downstairs, through the lobby, and out onto the porch, he saw that Margaret and Rory had gone into the store. James was still outside, lounging with a shoulder against one of the posts holding up the awning over the store’s porch.
Conrad looked to his left and saw the Whitfield wagon approaching the hotel. Dave Whitfield heeled his horse into a trot and came on ahead of the wagon, followed by Trace.
Whitfield stiffened in the saddle as he spotted Conrad standing there. At the same time, Trace said, “Boss,” and jerked his head toward James MacTavish on the porch of the general store. Whitfield hauled back on the reins and brought his horse to a skidding stop in front of the hotel as he moved his other hand toward the butt of the gun on his hip.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded. “A trap?”
“Take it easy, Whitfield,” Conrad snapped. “My being here has nothing to do with you.”
Whitfield sneered. “You could’ve fooled me. I see one of those hotheaded MacTavish boys on one side of the street, and their hired gunman on the other. Looks to me like you’re just waiting to get us in a crossfire.”
“If that’s what they plan, boss,” Trace said, “they’re about to be mighty sorry.”
Conrad could tell that the gunman was just aching to slap leather. He shook his head and said, “You’ve still got it all wrong. I’m not working for the MacTavishes. I haven’t even seen them in the past two days, until now. It’s just a coincidence that they came to buy supplies at the same time you got here to pick up your daughter.”
Whitfield’s slab of a jaw hardened even more. “What the hell do you know about my daughter?” he demanded harshly.
Before Conrad could answer, the young woman herself put in an appearance, coming out of the hotel and saying in a bright voice, “Daddy, there you are! I thought I saw you riding into town from my window.” She stopped short. A frown appeared on her face. She noticed the dangerous feeling of tension in the air. “What’s wrong?”
“Go back inside, honey,” Whitfield told her. “It’s about to get mighty noisy out here.”
Chapter 7
“Dad, what’s going on here?” Angeline asked with a worried frown.
“Those damned MacTavishes and their hired gun are tryin’ to start a ruckus,” Whitfield answered. “Get back inside the hotel now!”
Without taking his eyes off Trace, Conrad said, “That might be a good idea, Miss Whitfield.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Angeline insisted. “I don’t see any hired gunman, Dad.”
Whitfield gestured with his left hand toward Conrad. “This fancy-dressed hombre right here.”
Angeline laughed. “Are you joking? This is Conrad Browning. He’s no hired gun.”
Whitfield’s frown deepened. “How do you know him? Has he been botherin’ you, honey?”
“Not at all. In fact, he’s been a perfect gentleman…which is just what you’d expect from one of the wealthiest businessmen in the country.”
When he heard that, Whitfield’s eyes widened. “What in blazes are you talkin’ about, girl?”
“This man is Conrad Browning,” Angeline repeated. “He owns railroads and mines and banks. He’s not a gunman, and even if he was, he wouldn’t have any reason to hire out to a bunch of ragged squatters like the MacTavishes.”
Conrad heard the scorn in her voice. It caused his estimation of her to drop a little more, even though he once
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