'They turned toward the river, to throw off any pursuit if you or some posse from Durango was getting too close. Ned's being real careful about this, and so is Vanbergen. They know about your old reputation.'
'Conrad's with Pine?'
'Yeah. Sam and Buster and Josh too. Mack and Curtis are ridin' rear guard. Arnie and Scott rode on ahead to get the cabin ready. They figured you'd be behind them all the way, once you picked up their trail. Hell, they're expecting you to show up.'
'The cabin? What cabin?'
'It's an old hideout. Sits beside Stump Creek at the edge of the badlands. Way back in a box canyon. Ned's gonna send somebody back to Durango to tell you where the ransom money is supposed to be dropped off.'
'Ned Pine's gotta be crazy. He knows I don't have that kind of money. Hell, all I'm gonna do is kill him and every one of his sidekicks.'
Charlie winced when the pain in his shoulder worsened. 'It ain't gonna be as easy as you make it sound. They don't figure you've got big money. All Ned and Victor aim to do is kill you when you show up. They've got grudges against you from way back, and they won't rest easy till you're dead. Like I told you, it ain't gonna be easy gettin' close to 'em. They're gonna be ready for you.'
'Depends,' Frank said, squatting near Bowers.
'Depends on what?'
Frank chuckled mirthlessly. 'On how mad I am when I get to that cabin.'
'There's too many of 'em, Morgan. One of them will get you before you reach the kid. Ned Pine's about as good with a gun as any man I ever saw. He's liable to kill you himself, if the others don't beforehand.'
'I wish him all the luck,' Frank said. 'I've been trying to quit the gunfighter's trade for several years. Then some bastard comes along like Ned Pine, or Vic Vanbergen, and they won't let it rest. But I can promise you one thing....' Frank stared off at graying skies holding a promise of evening snow, a winter squall headed into the mountains.
'What's that, Morgan?'
Frank glared down at Bowers. 'I'll kill every last one of them. I may be a little bit rusty, but I can damn sure take down Ned Pine and his boys. One at a time, maybe, but I'll damn sure do it. Vanbergen don't worry me at all. He's yellow. He won't face me with a gun.'
'Everybody says The Drifter is past his prime, Morgan. I've heard it for years. You got too old to make it in this profession and folks know it.'
'Maybe I am too old. Ned Pine and his owlhoots are about to test me, and then we'll see if old age has caught up to me. We'll know when this business is finished. It depends on who walks away.'
'You damn sure don't act scared,' Bowers hissed, clenching his teeth when more pain shot from his shoulder. 'Ned claims you ain't got the nerve you used to have, back when you made a name for yourself. Hell, that was more'n twenty years ago, according to Ned.'
Frank chuckled again. 'I never met a man I was afraid of ... leastways not yet.'
'You gonna leave me here to die?' Bowers asked.
'Nope. I'm gonna take your guns and put you on that stolen stud. I'll tie your bandanna around your shoulder so you don't lose too much blood. It'll be up to you to find your way out of these mountains and canyons. I'm giving you a fifty-fifty chance to make it out of here alive. It's better odds than I aimed to give you.'
'But I'm hurtin' real bad. I don't know if I can sit a saddle.'
Frank shrugged, standing up with the ambusher's rifle cradled in his arm. 'Better'n being dead, son. I'll fetch your horse and help you into the saddle.'
'But Durango's fifty miles from here, across rough country to boot.'
Frank halted on his way into the trees. 'I can put you out of your misery now, if that's what you'd prefer. A slug right between the eyes and you won't feel a damn thing. You'll just go to sleep.'
'You'd murder a man in cold blood?'
'Wasn't that what you were tryin' to do to me?'
Bowers laid his head back against a rotted tree trunk. 'I reckon I'm obliged for what you're gonna do ... I just ain't all that sure I'm gonna make it to town.'
'Life don't have many guarantees, Bowers,' Frank said. 'You got one chance to make it. Stay in your saddle and aim for Durango. Otherwise, you're gonna be buzzard food. Hold on real tight to that saddle horn and if you know how to pray, you might try a little of that too.'
* * * *
He brought the bay stud back to the clearing. Bowers lay with his head on the rotten log, groaning softly, his shoulder surrounded by red snow.
'Sit up, Bowers,' Frank demanded. 'I'm gonna tie a bandanna around your shoulder.
'Jesus, my shoulder hurts,' Bowers complained. 'I don't think I can make it plumb to Durango.'
'Suit yourself,' Frank said. 'You can lie here and bleed to death, or you can sit that horse and test your luck riding out of these mountains.'
'You're cold-blooded, Morgan.'
'I'm supposed to stop looking for my son long enough to help a no-good son of a bitch who was trying to ambush me?' he asked, his face turning hard. 'You'd have left me for dead if you'd gotten off the first shot. Don't preach me any sermons about what a man's supposed to do.'
