The Loner: Inferno #12 Read Free Page B

when we are this close.”
    “We haven’t run into any trouble so far.”
    “I know. That’s what’s makin’ me nervous. I’ve guided plenty of wagon trains, and none of ’em have ever come this far without something bad happenin’.”
    “Wait a minute,” The Kid said. “I’m not looking for a job.”
    As a matter of fact, because of the far-flung financial interests he had inherited from his mother, The Kid was probably one of the richest men west of the Mississippi. Teams of trusted lawyers in Boston, Denver, and San Francisco handled those lucrative enterprises for him, and he could call on them for funds anytime he needed to.
    In the life he was determined to lead now, all he really needed money for was supplies. He wasn’t going to explain any of that to Horace Dunlap.
    “You’re headed the same direction we are,” Dunlap said. “At least, you looked to be when you rode up.”
    “That’s true,” The Kid admitted. He had no real reason to be riding west, but that was the direction he’d been going.
    “Don’t call it a job, then. Just ride along with us because we all happen to be goin’ the same way.”
    The Kid didn’t reply immediately. He knew what was happening. He had encountered similar situations in the past. He set out to ride alone, to stay far from people and their problems so he could forget about his own, and yet he kept running smack-dab into trouble, like back there in that nameless settlement where he had almost wound up right in the middle of a shooting war that didn’t have anything to do with him.
    He had managed to ride away from that. Every instinct in his body warned him he needed to ride away from the wagon train, too. It wouldn’t be hard to leave the slow, cumbersome vehicles behind him.
    He was about to refuse Dunlap’s offer to travel with them when a swift, sudden rataplan of hoofbeats coming up from behind made all three men rein in. They turned in their saddles to look at the rider who was galloping toward them.
    The Kid recognized the man as one of the outriders who had challenged him earlier. The man pounded up to them and hauled his horse to a stop.
    “What is it, Dave?” Dunlap asked with a worried frown creasing his forehead.
    “Riders comin’ up from behind, boss,” the man reported. “Looks like a pretty big bunch.”
    Dunlap looked over at Harwood. “Ride along the wagons and tell everybody to stop for now, Scott. And warn ’em to get ready for trouble.”
    Harwood nodded and heeled his horse into motion. Dunlap looked at The Kid. “Are you with us or not, Morgan?”
    “I’ll wait until I see what’s going on,” The Kid answered. He told himself he was just indulging his curiosity once more.
    Dunlap spurred his horse toward the rear of the wagon train. The Kid kept pace with him. As they rode past the wagons, he glanced over and saw the expressions on the faces of the immigrants, expressions that ranged from nervousness to outright fear. Dunlap had probably warned them to expect some trouble along the way, and the fact that it hadn’t happened so far might have lulled some of them into an easy confidence ... but not all. Most of the travelers were still waiting for something bad to happen.
    Somebody with that attitude wasn’t going to be surprised very often, The Kid knew.
    Because trouble was always waiting.
    And it was kicking up a cloud of dust as it closed the distance to the wagon train. It was the second time that day The Kid had seen such a thing. The first time he’d been able to avoid the resulting ruckus.
    Something told him he wouldn’t be as lucky this time.
    They reached the last wagon in line and rode past it. The outriders had gathered there, forming a defensive line. The men pulled their rifles from their saddle boots and waited with an air of tense anticipation.
    Judging by the size of the dust cloud, the group of riders coming toward the wagon train was several times larger than the one that had ridden up to the settlement