'Turn north,' Cletus growled. 'If we pass anybody, don't say a goddamn word. You do, an' I'll cut you in half so's your daddy has two pieces of you to bury.'
As dusk became dark, Cletus Huling and Conrad started north at a slow jog trot. Cletus rode behind Conrad with his shotgun leveled.
Conrad closed his eyes for a moment. Again, he was a prisoner of men who wanted revenge against his father. Of all the men on earth Conrad despised, it was his father. Being a killer, he had sentenced Conrad to life at the hands of wanted men who would only use him to get at Frank.
Dusk became full dark. Conrad shuddered as they headed for the distant peaks marking the southern end of the Rockies.
--------
*Twelve*
Conrad recalled those last moments in the snowbound cabin in the mountains, when Frank and an old man riding a mule had Ned Pine's gang surrounded. Pine, the toughest of the lot, had shown genuine fear of Conrad's father that day when the gang was boxed in.
* * * *
'I know it's you, Morgan!' Pine bellowed. 'If you fire one more shot, I'll blow the kid's goddamn skull all over Lost Pine Canyon and leave him for the wolves!'
Pine edged out the front door of the cabin with his pistol under Conrad's chin.
'My men are gonna saddle our horses!' Pine went on with a fistful of Conrad's hair in his left hand. 'One more gunshot and I blow your son's head off!'
Only silence filled the canyon after the echo of Ned's voice died.
'You hear me, Morgan?'
More silence, only the whisper of snow falling on ponderosa pine limbs.
'Answer me, you son of a bitch!'
The quiet around Ned was absolute. He squirmed a little, but he held his Colt under Conrad's jawbone with the hammer cocked.
'I'll kill this sniveling little bastard!' Ned called to what seemed like an empty forest.
And still, there was no reply from Morgan.
'Whoever you've got shootin' from up on the rim, you'd best tell that son of a bitch I mean business. If he fires one shot I'll kill your boy.'
Conrad Browning had tears streaming down his pale face and his legs were trembling. A dark purple bruise decorated one of his cheeks.
Ned looked over his shoulder at the cabin door. He spoke to Slade and Lyle. 'You and Rich and Cabot get out there and saddle the best horses,' he snapped. 'Tell Billy Miller to keep his gun sights on the back.'
'He ain't gonna shoot us?' Slade asked.
'Hell, no, he ain't,' Pine replied.
'What makes you so all-fired sure?'
'Because I've got a gun at his boy's throat. He came all this way to save him. Morgan knows that even if he shoots me, I'll kill this kid as I'm going down. Now get those goddamn horses saddled.'
'I see somebody up top!' cried Billy Miller, a boy from Nebraska who had killed a storekeeper to get a few plugs of tobacco.
' Kill the son of a bitch!' Ned shouted.
'He's gone now, but I seen him.'
'Damn,' Ned hissed, his jaw set. He spoke to Slade and Lyle again. 'Get out there and put saddles on the best animals we've got. Hurry!'
'I ain't so sure about this, Ned,' Lyle said, peering out the doorway.
'Get out there and saddle the goddamn horses or I'll kill you myself!' Ned cried. 'Morgan ain't gonna do a damn thing so long as I've got this gun cocked under his little boy's skull bone.'
Rich Boggs, a half-breed holdup man from Kansas, came out the front door carrying a rifle. 'C'mon, boys,' he said in a quiet voice.
Lyle and Slade edged out the door with Winchesters in their hands.
'I don't like this, Lyle,' Slade said.
'Neither do I, but we can't stay here until this snow melts.'
Cabot Bulware, a former bank robber from Baton Rouge, was the last to leave the cabin. He spoke Cajun English. 'Don't see no mens no place, _mon ami,'_ he whispered. 'Dis man Morgan be a hard _batard_ to shoot.'
'Shut up and get the damn horses saddled,' Ned said, his hands trembling in the cold.
'Please don't shoot me, Mr. Pine,' Conrad whimpered. 'I didn't do anything to you.'
'Shut up, boy, or I'll empty your brains onto this here snow,' Ned spat. 'I ain't all that sure you've got any goddamn brains.'
