Frank had already taken care of the threat. The fourth guard was down on the floor, kicking out his life as crimson leaked from the bullet holes in his chest and belly. Frank stood nearby, smoking Colt in hand.
Three gunmen were left upstairs, and they had been waiting for a chance. They opened fire on Frank. He grunted and twisted around as a slug creased his upper left arm. A second later, Conrad tackled him and knocked him out of the line of fire. They rolled up against the wall where the gunmen on the second floor couldn’t see them. The shooting stopped.
“How bad ... are you hit?” Conrad asked breathlessly.
“I’ve cut myself worse shaving,” Frank replied. “Anyway, it’s not my gun arm.”
Feet pounded on both sides of them. Men rushed into the room from right and left. Conrad and Frank were facing each other, so they fired
The shooting stopped again. Conrad and Frank reloaded while low voices came from upstairs. Conrad figured the surviving gunmen were debating what they should do next. If they charged down the stairs, they would be easy targets. On the other hand, if he and Frank moved away from the wall, they would be back in the line of fire.
It was a standoff ... and Lannigan was still out there somewhere.
Quietly, Conrad said, “Frank, do you think Lannigan was telling the truth? About the twins, I mean.”
Frank shook his head. “I just don’t know. Sounded like it could have been that way, all right. You knew Pamela Tarleton a lot better than I ever did. Was she smart enough and loco enough to come up with a plan like that?”
“She was,” Conrad answered without hesitation, “and evil enough, too. But that would mean ... everything that’s happened over the past few months ... all the danger I put you and Claudius and Arturo in ... all of it was for nothing. I did just what Pamela wanted me to do, like I was her puppet.”
“Blast it, that’s not the way it was at all,” Frank argued. “Whether those kids are yours or not, you believed they were, and you acted accordingly. You acted like their father, and what you felt was real.”
“But if they’re not mine, then it was all a lie.”
“All those fellas who tried to kill you were sure enough real,” Frank pointed out. “This trap Lannigan set for us was real, and so is the score we have to settle with him.”
Conrad took a deep breath. “Yeah. I guess when the bullets are flying, it’s best to save the philosophical debates until later.”
“You could say that,” Frank agreed with a grin. “Now, are you ready to have it out with those hombres?”
“More than ready,” Conrad said.
“Then I’ll draw ’em out ... and you finish ’em off.”
Before Conrad could ask his father what he meant by that, Frank darted away from the wall, twisted around, and started firing both guns toward the balcony along the second floor. More shots came from above as the gunmen returned the fire. Frank staggered but stayed on his feet and kept shooting.
“Noooo!” Conrad shouted as he dived into the open, turning his body in midair so he landed on his back. From where he lay he could see all three gunmen standing at the balcony railing and firing down at Frank. The guns in Conrad’s hands thundered as he sent a storm of lead sweeping across the balcony. The hired killers jittered and jerked as slug after slug smashed into them. They dropped their guns. Two of the bloody figures collapsed. The other one pitched forward over the railing and fell to the floor with a crash. He didn’t move again.
Conrad scrambled to his feet. He wanted to rush over to Frank, who had fallen near the fireplace. But he had emptied his guns, and one thing Frank had taught him was to reload as soon as possible after a gun battle. Conrad holstered the .38 and started plucking .45 rounds from the loops on his gunbelt. With fingers trembling just a little, he slid the cartridges into the Colt’s cylinder.
Only when he had a loaded weapon in his hand again did he hurry over to Frank and drop to one knee. Frank was still breathing, Conrad saw to his great relief. He rolled Frank onto his back and saw blood on his right trouser leg, as well as on his shirt.
Frank opened his eyes and grimaced in pain. “You get ’em?”
“Yeah,” Conrad said. “I got them.”
“Figured you would ... if I drew ’em out.”
“How bad are you hurt, Frank?”
“Not bad. Just creased a few more times. I’ll be fine.” Frank lifted a hand and clutched Conrad’s arm. “Help me into a chair, and then you go ... go find Lannigan.”
“You need me to patch up these wounds—”
“Not yet. I’ll bet ... Lannigan’s still around here ... somewhere. You find him ... settle up with him.”
Conrad nodded, feeling a tightness in his chest and in his throat. He had lived most of his life unaware of Frank Morgan’s very existence. The thought that Frank might not be around made Conrad feel like he couldn’t catch his breath.
He lifted Frank and settled him in one of the big armchairs. Conrad reloaded his father’s gun and slipped it into Frank’s hand. “Just in case I didn’t kill all those varmints and one or two still have some fight in them.”
Frank nodded. “Don’t worry. I can handle ’em.”
“I know that. I’ll be back.”
He checked through the lodge quickly but found no sign of Lannigan. That gave him a chance to check all the bodies, and confirm the hired killers were all dead.
There was also no indication Winifred and the children were there, or had ever been there, for that matter. Lannigan had been telling the truth about
When Conrad returned to the big main room, he told Frank, “Lannigan’s gone. But you don’t have to worry about any of those other men. They’re done for.”
Frank grunted and hefted the gun in his hand. “I wasn’t worried.” His voice sounded stronger. “Lannigan may still be waiting around outside to see what happens, or he might’ve lit a shuck away from here. Maybe you can find him, or pick up his trail.”
“You’ll be all right?”
“Better than all right. Now that I know I’m not gonna have to duck bullets any second, I can tie up some of these creases myself.”
Conrad nodded. He went out the front door carefully, with his gun up and ready for trouble. Lamps on the porch cast a wide circle of light in front of the house. His eyes scanned the landscape around the lodge carefully, but he didn’t see Lannigan anywhere. The road leading up the mountain from the bay ended in a large area covered with gravel. Conrad looked it over to see if he could find any fresh hoofprints, but he didn’t spot any.
Gun in hand, he turned toward the dark barn. Lannigan might be hiding in there, waiting for some of his gunmen to come to him and report that the intruders were dead.
Conrad was about twenty feet from the open double doors of the barn when a mounted figure suddenly exploded out of them, spurring straight toward him. He caught a glimpse of Dex Lannigan’s rage-twisted face as the man shouted incoherently. Lannigan had a gun in his hand. It roared as he jerked the trigger as fast as he could.
Conrad threw himself aside to keep from being trampled or shot full of holes. As the galloping horse pounded toward him he dropped his gun and lunged, reaching for Lannigan as horse and rider flashed by. Conrad caught hold of Lannigan’s leg and dragged him off the horse. Lannigan toppled out of the saddle with a startled yell and crashed to the ground, his gun flying through the air.
Conrad stood over the man. “Get up! Get up, Lannigan. We’ll have this out, you and me.”
Lannigan started to climb to his feet, then drove forward in a diving tackle that caught Conrad around the knees. Conrad expected a trick like that, but Lannigan’s move was too fast to avoid. Conrad went down hard and Lannigan swarmed after him, hammering fists into his body.
Conrad brought a knee up and drove it into Lannigan’s belly. At the same time, he caught hold of the man’s shirt front and heaved him to the side. Lannigan rolled a couple times but snapped a kick behind him catching Conrad in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He fought through the pain and launched himself at Lannigan again.
Gradually, both men struggled to their feet, pounding each other, and stood toe to toe, slugging it out. Blood dripped in Conrad’s eyes from a cut on his forehead. Lannigan’s eyes were swollen. They wheezed and fought for breath. No one could stand up for long to the sort of punishment they were each dealing out and absorbing.
