The Loner Read Free Page A

He had found out by then that Frank was his real father, and he didn’t care for that news at all. He had been a bit of a prig in those days, he often thought now.
    More than a bit actually.
    Frank hadn’t given up on him, though, and over the course of several adventures they had been drawn into, Conrad had come to respect his father, even to feel genuine affection for him. They worked well together.
    It was during one of those adventures, in fact, that Conrad had met and fallen in love with Rebel. After their marriage, they had gone back to Boston, but circumstances kept pulling them westward. They had spent some time in Buckskin, a mining community in the mountains southeast of Carson City, where Frank had served as the marshal for a while. Seeing how Rebel thrived in the frontier atmosphere had convinced Conrad to move out here permanently. With telegraph wires and railroad lines stretching all across the country now, there was no reason why he couldn’t manage the Browning business holdings just as effectively from Carson City as he did from Boston.
    “Well, whoever you are these days, I like him,” Rebel said. She finished her champagne, placed the glass in the basket, and lay down on the blanket, stretching her arms above her head so that her breasts rose enticingly.
    Conrad couldn’t resist the temptation. He set his glass down and moved alongside her, propping himself up on an elbow so that he could lean over her and press his lips to hers. The kiss was sweet and gentle at first, but it grew rapidly in intensity. Passionate urgency surged through Conrad’s body. Rebel wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tighter against her. Their bodies molded together, her breasts flattening under the pressure of his muscular chest.
    She was breathless with desire when he pulled back and broke the kiss. He slid his left hand between them to caress her right breast through her dress. “Conrad,” she said in a husky voice, “it’s broad daylight, and we’re right out in the open…”
    “And there’s no one but us around for miles,” he said. He didn’t know that for a fact, but he felt fairly certain it was true. He wanted it to be true. He kissed Rebel again.
    Her hands clutched at him. He reached for the hem of her skirt and drew it up, exposing sleek, bare, beautiful legs. His fingers stroked the softness of her thighs.
    Somewhere not far off, hoofbeats thudded on the ground.
    Rebel gasped and started pushing Conrad away. He went willingly, but not happily. He didn’t particularly want anybody riding up on them like this either. He rolled off Rebel and sat up. Beside him, she hastily tried to tug her skirt down. She didn’t manage to cover herself completely before half a dozen men rode out of the trees and into sight. They had to have gotten at least a flash of her bare legs before she finally got her skirt over them.
    As the men reined in, Conrad’s eyes darted from them to the picnic basket. A short-barreled Colt .45 revolver was in the basket, within reach if he needed to grab it. When he and Rebel set out on this excursion, he certainly hadn’t anticipated running into any trouble, but one of the things he had learned from being around his father was that it was best to be prepared.
    The gun had only five rounds in its cylinder, though; the hammer rested on the empty sixth chamber. Something else he had learned from Frank. Five bullets, six men…that could present a challenge.
    Stop jumping to conclusions, Conrad told himself. These men probably meant them no harm. He was sure they hadn’t even known that he and Rebel were here.
    He got to his feet, brushed off his trousers, and nodded to the strangers. “Gentlemen,” he said. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
    “It sure is,” one of the riders replied. He gestured with his left hand toward the blanket and the wicker basket. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your picnic.”
    “That’s quite all right. We were finished anyway.”