o'clock.
He glanced at his image in the hotel's front window after he swung down from the saddle.
'You're too old for this kind of life,' he muttered, tying off his horse, wishing for the comforts of a soft bed and a decent meal after so many days on the trail.
But his advancing age would do nothing to turn him away from a rendezvous with Ned Pine and Victor Vanbergen. All he had to do was find them, make them pay in blood for what they had done to his son and wife.
He needed to find a place to stable his horse after he hired a room for the night. Then a hot bath, a shave, and a haircut before inquiring about the best beefsteak in town.
He made himself a promise as he climbed the steps leading to the hotel. After he found Pine and Vanbergen he would put his guns away for good.
'Hey, mister,' a voice called from the hotel veranda.
Every muscle in Frank's body tensed, he made ready to claw iron.
An old man was sitting on a bench whittling on a stick. 'Are you Frank Morgan the gunslinger?'
'My name's Frank Morgan,' he said. 'Thought I recognized you. Are you out to kill somebody in this ol' ghost town? Ain't many of us to choose from.'
Frank wagged his head. 'Just looking for a clean room, a hot bath, and something decent to eat.'
He went inside before there was a chance for more conversation about his past, a past he wanted to forget.
--------
*Two*
Frank couldn't help recalling his last run-in with Vanbergen and Ned Pine, and how close he had come to putting both of them in an early grave.
* * * *
Two hours of following Ned and his men through dense forests along a winding road had put an edge on Frank's nerves. The pair of gunmen at the rear had fallen back about a hundred yards, and they seemed to be talking softly to each other. Frank wondered about them, why they were dropping farther back. Were they planning to run out on Ned?
'Time I made my move,' Frank said, tying off his horses in a pine grove. On foot, he approached a turn in the road where the two outlaws would be out of Ned's line of vision for a short time.
He was taking a huge risk ... that gunshots might force Ned to shoot Conrad. But the boy was lashed over his saddle and by all appearances, he was unconscious ... perhaps even dead. It was a gamble worth taking.
Frank slipped up to a thick ponderosa trunk where the road made a bend. He opened his coat and swept his coattails behind the butts of his twin Peacemakers.
When the distance was right, he stepped out from behind the tree to face the gunmen.
'Howdy, boys,' he said, bracing himself for what he knew would follow. 'You've got two choices. Toss your guns down and ride back wherever you came from, or go for those pistols. It don't make a damn bit of difference to me either way. I'd just as soon kill you as allow you to ride off.'
'Morgan!' one of the riders spat.
'You've got my name right.'
Before another word was said, the second outlaw clawed for his six-shooter. Frank jerked his right-hand Colt and fired into the gunman's chest.
The man was knocked backward out of his saddle when his horse spooked at the sound of gunfire, tossing its rider over the cantle of his saddle into the snow as the sorrel gelding ran off into the trees.
But it was the second man Frank was aiming at now, as the fool made his own play.
Frank fired a second shot. His bullet struck the outlaw in the head, twisting it sideways on his neck as he slumped over his horse's withers. But when the bay wheeled to get away from the loud noise, the gunman toppled to the ground. Blood spread over the snow beneath his head.
The bay galloped off, trailing its reins.
Frank walked over to both men. One was dead, and the other was dying.
With no time to waste, Frank took off at a run to collect his saddle horse to go after Ned Pine. The only thing that mattered now was saving Conrad's life ... if the boy wasn't already dead, or seriously injured.
* * * *
Pine heard Frank's horse galloping toward him from the rear and he looked over his shoulder, reaching inside his coat for his pistol. Frank had to make a dangerous shot at long range before Ned put a bullet in Conrad.
Frank aimed and fired, knowing it would take a stroke of luck to hit Pine. But the fates were with Frank when the horse Conrad was riding tried to shy away, breaking its reins, dashing off into the trees with the boy roped to the seat of its saddle.
Frank knew he had missed Pine, even though the bullet had been close. Pine spurred his horse, firing three shots over his shoulder as he galloped off in another direction, continuing northward.
Frank understood what he had to do. Finding out about his son's condition was more important than chasing down a ruthless outlaw. There would be plenty of time for that later, after he got Conrad to safety.
'We'll meet again somewhere, Pine,' he growled as he reined into the trees to follow Conrad's horse.
