The Loner: The Blood of Renegades Read online

  The dark, looming bulk of the mountains drew steadily closer as the stars wheeled across the sky. The moon rose, arced across the heavens, and started its descent. The mountains appeared as far away as ever, then suddenly, they were looming over the seven riders like sleeping giants.

  Kingman reined in and pointed. “There. That’s the mouth of Juniper Canyon.”

  They stopped, and Conrad said, “Tell me about the place.”

  “What do you want to know?” Some of his natural surliness crept back into Kingman’s voice.

  “The terrain, how the canyon is shaped, how the community is laid out, that sort of thing. The things I’ll need to know if we’re going in there, rescue the women, and make it back out alive.”

  “I’d still like to know—” Kingman stopped with an abrupt shake of his head. “Never mind. The canyon. Let’s see. The mouth of it is fairly narrow, maybe a quarter mile wide, and it stays like that for a couple miles as it runs up the mountains. It’s the only real gap for miles in the long ridge that forms the edge of the mountains.”

  “Does it run straight?”

  Kingman nodded. “For the most part. There are a couple little bends but no real turns. Then it opens out into a big basin at least a mile across. There’s a spring right in the middle of the basin that forms a pool in the rocks, and that’s where Elder Hissop settled some forty years ago.” Kingman gave a bitter laugh. “He always says he’d been wandering in the desert and an angel led him there, delivering him from certain death. I used to believe that story, but now I know that no self-respecting angel would have anything to do with Father Agony.”

  “There are juniper trees growing around the pool,” Ollie put in. “That’s how the place got its name. And junipers on the slopes all around the canyon, too.”

  “How steep are those slopes?” Conrad asked.

  “Pretty steep on the way in. A horse would have a hard time gettin’ up and down ’em. At the end of the canyon, where the settlement is, they’re not so bad. There’s decent graze in the hills all around . . . well, decent for this part of the country, I guess you’d say . . . but not as good as we’ve got in our valley. The elder keeps his cattle up in those high pastures and grazes his sheep down in the basin, where the grass isn’t as good.”

  “What about the settlement itself?”

  Kingman said, “Hissop’s house is the closest to the pool, since it was the first one built there. And it’s a monstrosity. He built it for him and his original wife and kept adding on as he added wives and children. It’s adobe, two stories in some parts and three stories in others. The tallest part is a blasted watchtower he built on top of it. The roofs are flat, so he can put riflemen up there, and there are walls to give them cover. I remember when I was a kid and the Paiutes would go on a rampage, everybody in the community would go to the elder’s house for safety while the men fought off the Indians. The savages never got in. Never came close. Eventually they gave up and quit trying.”

  “I told you it was a fort,” Ollie added.

  “What about the rest of the houses?”

  “Scattered all over the place,” Kingman said. “Along with barns, corrals, a blacksmith shop, a saddlery, a mill, a couple grain warehouses, and things like that. Most of them are built of adobe, but there are some log cabins, too. The men who are Hissop’s long-time followers, the ones who are members of his inner circle, I guess you’d say, have the best houses and the houses that are closest to Father Agony’s.”

  “Sounds like everything in the place revolves around him,” Conrad commented.

  Kingman nodded. “That’s exactly the way it is. He was supposed to be our leader in living according to God’s teachings, but somehow it got to be about worshipping him, although he’d call you a blasphemer and set Leatherwood and the avenging angels on you if you ever dared to say such a thing.”

  “You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Conrad said.

  Kingman shrugged. “I had my share of run-ins with Father Agony even before I knew he had his lecherous sights set on Selena. I guess it was inevitable there’d be a showdown.” He grunted. “And inevitable who would win, too. If I had stayed, Leatherwood or one of Hissop’s other triggerites would have gunned me down.”

  Arturo said, “I’ve heard this word triggerite used several times, but I don’t think I’ve ever encountered the term before now. I assume it means the same thing as a gunman?”

  “Yeah,” one of the Outcast Saints said. “It comes from that song about Porter Rockwell.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is Porter Rockwell, heeee’s the Mormon triggerite,” Ollie sang softly in a deep, surprisingly rich voice.

  “Don’t start on that,” Kingman said. “Rockwell wasn’t just an avenging angel. People called him the Destroying Angel. He was the personal bodyguard to Joseph Smith and to Brigham Young. If they wanted somebody dead . . . well, that fella usually wound up dead, and everybody knew Old Port was responsible. If you ask me, Leatherwood’s always wanted to be as famous as Porter Rockwell, and it gnaws at his gut that he’s not.”

  Conrad had vague memories of hearing about Porter Rockwell in the past. He wondered if Frank Morgan had ever crossed trails with the man. Conrad wouldn’t doubt it for a second. The Drifter’s decades of wandering across the frontier had brought him in contact with just about everybody who was famous or notorious.

  Hearing about Porter Rockwell was interesting but not relevant to why they were there. To steer the conversation back along more useful lines, Conrad said, “If the terrain around Hissop’s stronghold isn’t that rough, we ought to be able to get in that way instead of going straight up the canyon.”

  “Nope.” Kingman shook his head. “Not from this direction. The country on the other side of the ridge isn’t that bad, but the ridge itself is too steep and rough. You couldn’t get horses over it. To get in from the other side you’d have to circle so far around it would take you days, maybe even a week.” Kingman’s voice took on a bleak edge. “We can’t leave Selena in Hissop’s hands for a week. If we do, she’ll be his wife by then, if she’s not already.”

  “Then we’ll have to go straight up the canyon after all. I assume Hissop keeps it guarded?”

  “Some of Leatherwood’s men are always on watch.”

  “Then we’ll need to take care of them somehow. You said men could climb the ridge and make their way along it?”

  Kingman nodded. “That’s right.” A note of eagerness came into his voice. “We could get behind them that way. I know where they camp to watch the entrance. Leatherwood sends men in groups of three out there for several days at a time. Two of them are always on guard while the other one sleeps.”

  “How do they signal the stronghold if there’s trouble?”

  “They fire off some shots.”

  “Then we’ll have to be fast and quiet and make sure they don’t get a chance to do that.”

  “We?” Kingman repeated.

  “I think it’s a job for two men,” Conrad said, “and whether we like it or not, you and I are the ones best suited to the job.”

  Chapter 25

  In only a few hours it would be dawn, so there was no time to waste once Conrad had figured out what to do. Kingman insisted he knew every foot of the ridge, even in the dark, having explored it hundreds of times when he was a boy.

  “There’ll be three guards,” Ollie said as Conrad and Kingman got ready to go. “I ought to come with you so the odds’ll be even.”

  Conrad shook his head. “One of the men will be asleep when we get to their camp. We’ll have to handle the other two quickly enough that we can be ready for him when he wakes up.”

  Conrad didn’t add that Ollie was too big and clumsy to move with the stealth that would be necessary. There was no need to hurt the young man’s feelings.

  “Once we’ve taken care of the guards, I’ll come to the mouth of the canyon and signal the rest of you,” Conrad went on. “It’ll be fast, so watch close fo
r it. I’ll strike a match and hold it in front of my body where it can’t be seen from inside the canyon. I’ll pass my other hand back and forth in front of it three times. When you see that blinking light, bring the horses to the canyon. Don’t waste any time, but try to be as quiet as you can. It’s likely sound travels well up the canyon at night.”

  “We understand,” Arturo said. “What then?”

  “Somebody will wait with the horses where the canyon opens into the basin while the rest of us head for Hissop’s house to look for the women. If we can sneak in and get them out of there without anybody knowing, that’s fine, but there’s a better chance we’ll have to fight our way back to the horses. When we get there we’ll mount up and try to make it back to the valley on the other side of the salt flats before Leatherwood can catch up to us.”

  Kingman said, “If we can get there, we can hold the pass, even if we just have a small force. We might even be able to close it, if we have time to prepare some charges.” He looked at Conrad. “You know about things like that. What do you think?”

  “A well-placed blast or two would probably drop enough rock in the pass to close it,” Conrad agreed. “But you’d never be able to use it again. Is there another way out of that valley? I didn’t see one, but I never really got a good look at it.”

  “I don’t know if there is or not,” Kingman admitted. “I haven’t explored the whole place. But even if we can’t leave . . . why would we want to? You saw it. It’s paradise on earth! At least as close to it as you’re going to find in this part of the country. Maybe we ought to call it Paradise Valley. We could live out our lives there and be happy.”

  Conrad had serious doubts about that. He figured the contentment Kingman expected to find would last for a while, but it wouldn’t be permanent. Nothing was, and every bit of paradise he had ever seen had turned, sooner or later, into hell.

  He shook off the thought. “That might be all right for you, but Arturo and I can’t stay there. We have business elsewhere. We’d have to get out before you blow the charges.”

  “That could put you at Leatherwood’s mercy.”

  Conrad shrugged. “We’ll have to run the risk.” He glanced at Arturo. “But maybe I should speak for myself. Arturo, you might want to stay in Paradise Valley.”

  “Good heavens, no,” Arturo replied without hesitation. “No offense to you gentlemen, I’m certain you’ll have wonderful lives there, but my place is elsewhere. Also, we’re putting the proverbial cart before the hypothetical horse here, are we not? We have yet to penetrate Juniper Canyon, let alone rescue Miss Webster and the other ladies and make our escape with them.”

  Conrad laughed. “Good point. Everybody clear about what we’re doing?”

  The rest of the men nodded.

  “All right.” To Kingman he said, “Let’s go.”

  As they moved off on foot, Arturo called softly behind them, “Good luck, sir.”

  Conrad figured they would need it.

  He let Kingman take the lead. The base of the ridge was almost sheer, but after looking around a bit Kingman found a narrow trail they were able to use. It was little more than a series of footholds and handholds, and Conrad saw that Kingman had been right: a horse would never be able to maneuver up and down the trail.

  The slope eased, so they were able to walk rather than climb, but it was still rugged. A giant rock slab barred their path at one point, forcing Conrad to boost Kingman to the top, where Kingman stretched out and extended a hand down to Conrad to help him up. Looking at the ridge, it didn’t seem to be that tall and intimidating, but getting to the top seemed to take forever. Conrad worried too much time was passing. They needed darkness if they were going to have any chance of getting in and out of Elder Hissop’s house without getting caught.

  Eventually they came out on top of the ridge, which was a couple miles wide, composed of jagged clefts and pinnacles. In the moonlight, it looked like alien landscape, like several other places he had been recently, Conrad thought. He was sure he had never come across country as downright inhospitable as that corner of Utah. The vast, barren ugliness made the occasional oasis seem idyllic.

  As the two men paused to rest for a moment, Conrad said, “Are you sure you know your way through this maze? It looks like a man could wander around in it forever.”

  “I can get through it,” Kingman said confidently.

  “All right. I don’t have any choice but to trust you.”

  “That’s right. You don’t.” Kingman jerked his head toward the north. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  They set off again. Kingman led the way around spires of rock and across chasms spanned by narrow, natural stone bridges. It was a harrowing path, especially in the dark, but the moon and stars provided enough light for Conrad to see where his companion was going, and he was careful to step in the same places Kingman stepped.

  After less than an hour, Kingman held up a hand in a signal to halt. He leaned close to Conrad and whispered, “We’re almost there. We’ll have to climb down, but it’s not too bad. When we get to the floor of the canyon, there’ll be some trees to our left, about two hundred yards away. That’s where the guards’ camp is. We’ll work our way along the wall toward them. We’ll be behind them, so they shouldn’t see us coming, but be careful anyway.”

  “I intend to,” Conrad whispered back.

  Kingman nodded. He moved ahead, and a few minutes later, they reached the rim of the canyon.

  The ground dropped away. Stunted junipers grew out of the steep slope, demonstrating how stubborn and hardy they were. The sharp tang of their scent filled the air. Conrad watched as Kingman turned around and backed over the edge, then began climbing down between the trees, catching hold of a protruding root here and there to steady himself.

  Conrad followed in the same way, moving slowly and deliberately. The canyon wall wasn’t sheer. He would probably survive a tumble, but it would cause a racket, alerting the guards, and that could certainly prove fatal.

  When his boots touched the canyon floor Kingman was waiting and pointed at the dark cluster of trees that was their objective. Conrad nodded. They set off toward the trees, using every bit of stealth at their command.

  As they soundlessly approached the camp, Conrad heard two men talking together in quiet voices. Kingman stopped and pressed himself against the trunk of a juniper, and Conrad followed suit, figuring Kingman wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation for a moment before they struck. They might find out something important.

  The two guards were having a mild argument about the proper way to shear a sheep. Conrad didn’t think he and Kingman were going to learn anything useful, but the sheep-shearing discussion led to the subject of mutton, and he heard “Do you think there’ll be any at the wedding feast?”

  “Of course. There’ll be a little of everything at the feast, I expect. Elder Hissop’s so excited to be marrying the Webster girl, he wants a big celebration.”

  “I’m glad our turn on guard will be over this morning. I’d hate to miss it.”

  So Hissop hadn’t forced Selena to marry him as soon as Leatherwood brought her back to Juniper Canyon. Good to know, Conrad thought. But the wedding would be soon, no doubt about that.

  “You don’t think that Kingman boy will show up, do you?” the second guard asked.

  “He’d be a fool if he did. Brother Jackson will kill him on sight. Of course, in the long run it won’t matter. Kingman and all the rest of those Outcast Saints are doomed. Elder Hissop wants the avenging angels to go back over there and clean out that nest of sinners.”

  “About time,” the other man agreed.

  Given what they had just heard, Kingman’s idea of blowing up the pass and sealing off the valley wasn’t so far-fetched. It might take that to prevent his community from being wiped out. Conrad had his doubts about how well it would work out, but that might be the only alternative.

  First, though, they had t
o survive the rest of the night and the day to come, by taking care of the guards. Conrad’s eyes had adjusted well enough to the shadows under the trees that he could see the two men sitting on a log next to a cold fire pit. To one side was a tent where the third guard was sleeping. Conrad heard faint snores coming from inside the tent.

  To Conrad’s left, behind one of the trees, Kingman drew his gun and nodded. Conrad’s Colt was already in his hand. He returned the nod. The plan was to knock out the guards, tie them up, and gag them. They would do the same to the third guard.

  Just as Conrad and Kingman moved into the open, one of the guards suddenly stood up and turned around, saying, “I need to—”

  Whatever need he was about to express went unspoken as he spotted the shadowy forms sneaking up on them. He opened his mouth to yell, and jerked up the rifle he held.

  Chapter 26

  In the dead of night, the sound of a shot would carry easily to the settlement at the other end of the canyon, two miles away. That knowledge gave Conrad speed as he flung himself forward, his left hand closing around the rifle barrel. Instead of wrenching the weapon out of the guard’s hand, which would have caused it to go off, he shoved as hard as he could, driving the stock into the guard’s belly. The man grunted in pain, doubled over, and let go of the rifle.

  Conrad swung the revolver in his hand and smashed its barrel against the man’s head. The guard dropped instantly and didn’t move when he hit the ground.