said, “Joseph, I want you to begin putting together a package of cash for Mr. Browning. Fifty thousand dollars. And be discreet about it.”
The clerk’s eyes widened. “Did you say—”
“You heard what I said,” the manager snapped. “Hop to it!”
“Yes, sir!”
The manager closed the door again and turned back to Conrad. “We’re more than happy to help you with this, Mr. Browning,” he said. “But if there’s anything else I can do…I mean, if you’re in some sort of trouble…”
“What makes you think that?”
The manager looked solemn as he said, “Whenever someone needs a great deal of money in a hurry, there’s always some sort of trouble.”
The chief of police had promised to keep the news of Rebel’s kidnapping quiet. Obviously, he had kept his word. If the story had leaked out, the bank manager would have heard about it by now.
Conrad smiled. “I appreciate your concern, but this is something I have to handle myself. I can promise you, I won’t forget about how you’re cooperating with me.”
“We’ll do anything we can to help, Mr. Browning. You know that.”
A short time later, the clerk came back to the office carrying a box that contained bundles of twenty-and fifty-dollar bills. He placed it on the manager’s desk and said, “Will there be anything else, sir?”
The manager looked at Conrad, who shook his head.
When the clerk was gone, Conrad and the manager both counted the money to be sure the amount was correct; then Conrad placed the bills in the carpetbag. The bag was fairly heavy when he was finished. He signed a receipt for the money, then said, “I’m sure that I can count on your discretion?”
“Of course,” the manager answered. “No one will hear about this from me.”
“I’ll replace these funds, one way or another, within forty-eight hours.” If the ransom payoff went off without a hitch and he got Rebel back safely, he would have fifty thousand sent to the Carson City bank from one of his other banks. If it didn’t…
Conrad wouldn’t allow himself to think about that.
As Conrad started to leave the office, the bank manager said, “Surely, you’d like one of our guards to go with you, Mr. Browning. That’s a great deal of money to be carrying around with you.”
“I’m aware of that,” Conrad said. He pulled back his coat so that the manager could see the butts of the Colt .45s tucked behind his belt on each hip. “That’s why I’m taking precautions of my own.”
The manager didn’t say anything to that. He just stared at the man in his office as if he had never seen Conrad before.
And it was true—he had never seen this Conrad Browning. This Conrad Browning had appeared only a few times in the past, when faced with danger to himself or someone he loved. This Conrad Browning was his father’s son.
Conrad carried the carpetbag with him when he stopped at a clothing store on his way home. He came out half an hour later with a paper-wrapped bundle under his other arm. One more stop, at a local gunsmith’s shop, and then he went back to his house to continue getting ready for that night.
Black Rock Canyon was northwest of the city, well off the road to Reno and not far from Lake Tahoe. Conrad had been there once, when he was investigating some land he was thinking about buying, just over the state line in California. One trail led through the canyon, which was steep-sided and covered with pines. No one lived there; it was dark and desolate, and above it loomed a huge bluff that gave the place its name. An appropriate lair for the sort of evil bastards who would abduct a man’s wife, he thought.
When he had awoken from his troubled sleep earlier in the day, the beginnings of a plan had been in the back of his mind. First and foremost was Rebel’s safety, of course, but once that was assured, he planned to go after the men who had taken her, with all the forces at his command. Also, he knew better than to assume that the gang
The clerk’s eyes widened. “Did you say—”
“You heard what I said,” the manager snapped. “Hop to it!”
“Yes, sir!”
The manager closed the door again and turned back to Conrad. “We’re more than happy to help you with this, Mr. Browning,” he said. “But if there’s anything else I can do…I mean, if you’re in some sort of trouble…”
“What makes you think that?”
The manager looked solemn as he said, “Whenever someone needs a great deal of money in a hurry, there’s always some sort of trouble.”
The chief of police had promised to keep the news of Rebel’s kidnapping quiet. Obviously, he had kept his word. If the story had leaked out, the bank manager would have heard about it by now.
Conrad smiled. “I appreciate your concern, but this is something I have to handle myself. I can promise you, I won’t forget about how you’re cooperating with me.”
“We’ll do anything we can to help, Mr. Browning. You know that.”
A short time later, the clerk came back to the office carrying a box that contained bundles of twenty-and fifty-dollar bills. He placed it on the manager’s desk and said, “Will there be anything else, sir?”
The manager looked at Conrad, who shook his head.
When the clerk was gone, Conrad and the manager both counted the money to be sure the amount was correct; then Conrad placed the bills in the carpetbag. The bag was fairly heavy when he was finished. He signed a receipt for the money, then said, “I’m sure that I can count on your discretion?”
“Of course,” the manager answered. “No one will hear about this from me.”
“I’ll replace these funds, one way or another, within forty-eight hours.” If the ransom payoff went off without a hitch and he got Rebel back safely, he would have fifty thousand sent to the Carson City bank from one of his other banks. If it didn’t…
Conrad wouldn’t allow himself to think about that.
As Conrad started to leave the office, the bank manager said, “Surely, you’d like one of our guards to go with you, Mr. Browning. That’s a great deal of money to be carrying around with you.”
“I’m aware of that,” Conrad said. He pulled back his coat so that the manager could see the butts of the Colt .45s tucked behind his belt on each hip. “That’s why I’m taking precautions of my own.”
The manager didn’t say anything to that. He just stared at the man in his office as if he had never seen Conrad before.
And it was true—he had never seen this Conrad Browning. This Conrad Browning had appeared only a few times in the past, when faced with danger to himself or someone he loved. This Conrad Browning was his father’s son.
Conrad carried the carpetbag with him when he stopped at a clothing store on his way home. He came out half an hour later with a paper-wrapped bundle under his other arm. One more stop, at a local gunsmith’s shop, and then he went back to his house to continue getting ready for that night.
Black Rock Canyon was northwest of the city, well off the road to Reno and not far from Lake Tahoe. Conrad had been there once, when he was investigating some land he was thinking about buying, just over the state line in California. One trail led through the canyon, which was steep-sided and covered with pines. No one lived there; it was dark and desolate, and above it loomed a huge bluff that gave the place its name. An appropriate lair for the sort of evil bastards who would abduct a man’s wife, he thought.
When he had awoken from his troubled sleep earlier in the day, the beginnings of a plan had been in the back of his mind. First and foremost was Rebel’s safety, of course, but once that was assured, he planned to go after the men who had taken her, with all the forces at his command. Also, he knew better than to assume that the gang
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