The Devil's Badland by J. A. Johnstone

Author:J. A. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Wives - Crimes against, murder, Mystery & Detective, Murder - Investigation, Western Stories, Revenge, Crimes against, Wives, Investigation, Historical, Westerns, Large Type Books, Fiction
ISBN: 9781602855953
Publisher: Center Point Pub
Published: 2009-11-01T06:00:00+00:00

Conrad took a deep breath and shouted toward the top of the ridge, “All right! Just hold on!”

A fusillade of shots didn’t greet his response, so he figured that maybe they didn’t plan to kill him of hand. Anthony Tarleton had more in mind than simply killing him. That lunatic would want to torture him some more first.

Conrad moved through the brush and broke out into the open. He walked toward the cabin. The sky above Big Hatchet Mountain still held a faint rosy hue, the last afterglow of the vanished sun, but there most of the light was gone.

Conrad saw two burning brands flare into life. The men who came down from the ridge needed torches to light their way. He stood in front of the cabin, his arms at his sides, the Colt still gripped in his right hand, and watched as the torchbearers descended the slope. When the two men reached the bottom, they separated so that the rest of the group could move between them and walk toward the cabin. Conrad saw Jack Trace and another man leading the way. He recognized the second man from Pamela’s description.

He was looking at Anthony Tarleton, the man responsible for Rebel’s death, and for all the other deaths that had followed in the past few months.

Tarleton was a big man, as Pamela had said, and he wore a smug smile on his broad, florid face. He carried a rifle and wore the sort of clothes a rich man might wear on a hunting trip.

Conrad could see between Trace and Tarleton and was startled to spot Dave Whitfield and James MacTavish. He had figured that both men were dead. Whitfield clutched a bloody left arm but seemed to be all right otherwise.

James didn’t appear to have any fresh wounds at all. He had his arm around a redheaded young woman who huddled against him as they made their way along slowly. Meggie, Conrad thought as he recognized her and relief went through him. They were still in a very dangerous spot, but he was glad to see that Meggie was alive and apparently unharmed.

Several men he hadn’t seen before followed the prisoners with drawn guns. Covered and outnumbered as they were, Whitfield and James couldn’t do anything except cooperate. Judging by the amount of shooting that had gone on a few minutes earlier, Conrad had a strong hunch that the rest of Whitfield’s men were dead, but for some reason Tarleton had spared the rancher and the young brother and sister.

That left only one person unaccounted for. Conrad’s eyes searched desperately for her. He knew she was alive because he had heard her cry out to him moments earlier.

The garish, flickering light from the torches washed over the area in front of the cabin as the group came to a stop. Anthony Tarleton chuckled as he looked at Conrad.

“Conrad Browning,” he said. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, boy.”

“No longer than I’ve wanted to meet you,” Conrad grated.

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