Then his shoulder started to hurt…real bad!
Chapter Twelve
Two of the Alhambra dealers took Decker into a huge office, which Decker assumed belong to the owner, Van Gelder. Moments later, a bearded man came storming in and began shouting loudly.
“What the hell is going on here?”
The two men who had helped Decker into the office stood at attention, as if they were in the army and this man was their superior officer. Annie Tucker had instructed them to move Decker to the office until a doctor and the law could arrive.
“I’m going to take care of Sally,” she had told Decker, “and then I’ll be right back.”
“Fine.”
Now Van Gelder glared at both of his men, waiting for an answer.
“I can answer that,” Decker said.
“Who are you?”
“Decker. Who are you?”
“Van Gelder, I own this establishment. I hope you’re not bleeding on the leather of that sofa.”
“I’m doing my best not to.”
Someone had given Decker a tablecloth, which he had wadded up and pushed between his jacket and shirt, to try and stem the bleeding.
There was a small crowd outside the office. Van Gelder had to push through it, as a man shouted, “Let me through, please let me through.”
A small, elderly man carrying a black medical bag finally entered the office, looked around and then said to Decker, “I guess you’re my patient.”
“I guess so.”
“Let’s have a look, then.”
Van Gelder looked at his two dealers and said, “All right, you two, get back out there. There are still people in the place looking to lose their money.”
The both nodded, and as they headed for the door Decker called out, “Thanks for the help, fellas.”
They waved and kept going.
“You were going to tell me what happened,” Van Gelder said to Decker.
“One of your patrons shot me in the back.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“And what did you do?”
“I killed him.”
“Just—”
“Just like that.”
“Who was it?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“Stop talking and turn around,” the doctor said. “I have to have a look.”
Decker stopped talking and turned so that the doctor could get at his wound.
“We’ll have to take this jacket off.”
“Please, watch the leather,” Van Gelder said.
Outside the crowd was once again moving aside to admit someone. When the man entered, he had another man in tow, a uniformed policeman.
“Watson, disperse this crowd.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“Van Gelder,” the lieutenant said, “care to let me in on what’s going on here?”
“I don’t know much more than you do, Lieutenant. This man—”
“Decker,” Decker said.
“Yes, this man Decker claims one of my customers tried to kill him.”
“Shot me in the back,” Decker said.
“Is that right?” the lieutenant said.
“Somebody certainly shot him in the back,” the doctor said, removing the table cloth, “as you can plainly see, Lieutenant.”
“Hmm, yes,” the lieutenant said.
Van Gelder was grey-haired, in his middle forties. He was about five eight, but solidly built. The lieutenant was in his late thirties, about six feet tall, with slicked back black hair, and a carefully trimmed mustache.
“This bullet is going to have to come out,” the doctor said. “You’ll have to come to my office. Do you feel strong enough to walk?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Decker, I’m Lieutenant Tennant.”
Decker looked at the man to see if he was kidding, and the doctor muttered, “That’s his name.”
Decker supposed that it would only sound funny until the man made captain.
“Pleased to meet you.”
“Do you know any reason why that man would want to shoot you in the back?” Tennant asked.
“Lieutenant, I’ve already told Mr. Van Gelder that I don’t even know who the man was, let alone why he wanted to shoot me.”
“Can’t this wait?” the doctor asked.
“Very well. When you’re finished with the doctor, Mr. Decker, I’d appreciate it if you came down to my office and made a statement—uh, if you’re up to it, of course.”
“In the morning,” the doctor said. “He won’t feel up to it until the morning.”
“Very well, Doctor,” Tennant said, “in the morning.”
“Are you going to remove the dead man from my casino?” Van Gelder demanded. “I’ve got a business to run.”
“That’s already being taken care of, Van Gelder.”
“Good.”
“You can’t go in there, miss,” they heard the policeman on the door say.
“Get out of my way, I have business in there.” Decker recognized Annie Tucker’s voice.
“Tennant, for Christ’s sake, tell your man to stand aside,” Van Gelder said.
“Let her in, Watson.”
“Yes sir,” the policeman said, and dutifully stood aside.
Annie Tucker walked in and asked Decker, “How are you?”
“He’ll be all right,” the doctor said, “if I can ever get him to my office.”
“Let’s go,” Decker said, standing up.
“Steady,” the doctor said.
“Is this man a friend of yours?” Van Gelder demanded.
“Yes—no—I mean, he’s a friend of Sally’s.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes.” To the doctor she said, “Can I come along?”
“He might need someone to steady him.”
“I’m strong enough,” she said. In fact, Decker noticed that she had already fetched herself a wrap, so she had intended to go along, anyway.
“We’re still open, Annie,” Van Gelder said.
“I’ll be back, Gerald.”
She moved to Decker’s side and put her arm around his waist. Her hair smelled extremely good.
“Who was your big friend?” he asked her.
“That was Sam Klingman.”
“Klingman?” Van Gelder shouted. “Sam Klingman? He’s one of my best customers. He loses a fortune in here every week. What happened to him?”
“He called out and saved my life,” Decker said. “I’d like to thank him.”
“You’ll have time enough for that tomorrow,” the doctor said. “If we don’t get to my office soon—”
“All right, Doctor,” Decker said. “We’re going.”
As they moved to the door the lieutenant said, “Remember, Mr. Decker. Tomorrow, my office.”
And Van Gelder said, “Try not to be long, Annie. Remember, I’m still open.”
Decker wondered what Van Gelder would say when he found the spot on his leather sofa where Decker had deliberately wiped his bloody hand.
Chapter Thirteen
The doctor had a carriage waiting outside which took them to his office. Annie Tucker waited in his outer office while the doctor laid Decker face down on a table in his examining room and removed the bullet.
“You’re a good patient,” he said afterward. “You barely made a sound.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve been shot,” Decker said.
“Yes.” the doctor said, casting his eyes over the scars already adorning Decker’s body, “I can see that. This is fairly recent,” he said, running his finger over a knife scar in Decker’s side. It was recent enough that Decker moved away from the doctor’s touch.
“Yes,” he said.
“You apparently lead a violent life, Mr. Decker.”
“Can I get up now?”
“I’d prefer you lie there a while, but it’s up to you. You can rise if you like.”
Decker sat up,
wincing at the pain in his shoulder. The doctor had bandaged it tightly, and the bandage constricted his movements as he slid his shirt back on.
“My jacket?”
“The young lady has it in the other room.”
“This suit was new,” Decker said, mournfully.
“Better the suit than you, Mr. Decker.”
“Yeah. What do I owe you, Doc?”
“The visit was to the Alhambra. They’ll have to pay me.”
“Will Van Gelder do that?”
“He’ll bitch and moan,” the doctor said, putting his instruments away, “but he’ll do it.”
“I’m much obliged to you, Doc.”
“Don’t mention it. Just get out of here so I can get to sleep.”
“Right.”
“And mind you, no sudden movements. You should stay in bed for two or three days, at the least, and a week if you know what’s good for you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
He went into the outer room, where Annie Tucker stood up, holding his jacket.
“It looks new,” she said as she held it for him to slip on.
“It is—or was.”
“Van Gelder will buy you a new one.”
“Why?”
“Because you were shot in his place.”
“He’ll do that?”
“He won’t like it, but he will. He wants to preserve his reputation. He’s not the most pleasant of men, but he is a good businessman. It would be bad for business if something happened to you in his place and he didn’t foot your bills. Where are you staying?”
Decker told her.
“I’ll take you there.”
“You don’t have to—”
“We can share a cab,” she said.
“All right.”
They left, flagged a passing carriage, and gave the driver the location of Decker’s hotel.
“Was that true?” she asked.
“What?”
“That you didn’t know the man who shot you?”
“It was true.”
“Why would a man you don’t know try to shoot you?”
“It’s been known to happen,” Decker said. More and more, in fact. The more people he put away—or killed—the more there were walking around who would have liked to take revenge. Undoubtedly this man would turn out to be the brother or father—maybe even the husband—of someone Decker had once hunted and caught.
“You did Sally a good turn tonight. I appreciate it.”
“She doesn’t belong there.”
“I should tell you to mind your own business, but you’re right. She doesn’t. It was the only place I could exert any pressure to get her a job.”
“Have her come to my hotel in the morning and I’ll get her a job.”
“Doing what?”
“Anything but what she was doing tonight.”
“You can do that?”
He nodded.
“My friend owns the place. He’ll give her a job on my say-so.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
He looked at her and said, “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Would you want a job?”
“I’ve got one.”
“Do you like what you’re doing?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve been doing it for three years, and I do it well.”
“I can imagine.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, sounding more amused than insulted.
“Oh, nothing.”
“What did you and my sister talk about?”
“She…told me about home.”
“Did she tell you the story about me taking the Tyler boys into the barn?”
“Uh, yes, she did.”
Annie laughed.
“It’s not true?”
“She heard that from Andy Tyler, and she believed him. She’s very naive.”
“I would say so. All the more reason why she shouldn’t be working in a place like the Alhambra.”
“I agree. If your friend can really give her a job, I’d be very grateful.” She put her hand on his arm and squeezed it for emphasis.
“A simple thank you will do, Annie.”
She pulled her hand away and said, “I’m sorry. Like I said, I’ve been at it for three years.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, and when they reached the Ballard House, she helped Decker get down.
“Don’t forget to have Sally come by in the morning.”
“You won’t be up and around—”
“Just have her ask for me, or for Duke. I’ll take care of it.”
“All right. Thanks, Decker.”
“Thank you, Annie, for your help tonight—and if you see Mr. Klingman—”
“I’ll pass him the message. I’ll be seeing you.”
As she rode away in the carriage, Decker hoped that she was speaking the truth. He hoped that he would be seeing her—soon.
Chapter Fourteen
Duke came to see Decker early the next morning, letting himself in with his key.
“How did you sleep?”
Decker pushed himself painfully into a sitting position and said, “Lousy.”
“Hurt?”
“Like hell.”
The night before, when Decker had entered the lobby, he had stopped at the desk and asked for Duke. When Duke arrived in the lobby, he’d immediately noticed that something was wrong.
“Run into trouble?” he’d asked.
“Dissatisfied customer.”
Duke called for help, and he and two other men had helped Decker to his room, and put him to bed.
Now Duke said, “I’ve ordered some breakfast brought up. You’ll need to keep you strength up.”
Decker started to argue that he wasn’t hungry, but then simply nodded.
“You know, you should have let me get someone to spend the night with you—you know, to take care of you.”
“Like who?”
“Like Mona,” Duke said. “The blonde with the braid.”
“Oh, Mona. Well, Duke, I really didn’t need any help.”
“She could have taken your mind off of it.”
“You ever been shot?”
“No.”
“Takes more than even a pretty blonde to take your mind off of it.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Decker swung his legs off the bed and put his feet on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to go make a statement to the police.”
“You can’t—”
Decker stood up slowly, and then paused with his eyes closed when he was standing straight.
“Deck—”
“I also want to find out who I killed, Duke.”
“I’ll have the police come here to take your statement.”
“Can you do that?”
Duke smiled.
“Without any problem. Who was the policeman there, last night?”
“Uh, Lieutenant…oh yeah, Tennant.”
“Tennant?” Duke asked, smiling.
“Yeah. You know him?”
“I know him. Get right back into the bed. Your breakfast will be here soon.” Duke walked to the door and then said, “By the time you’re done with it, Tennant will be here.”
As Duke opened the door Decker called out, “Oh, by the way.”
“What?”
“There’s a young woman coming here this morning, name of Sally Tucker.”
“What’s she coming over for?”
“A job. I told her sister you’d hire her.”
“Her, and the sister?”
“Just her, but the sister might come over with her.”
“How will I know them?”
“You’ll know them, especially if they’re together.”
“What can she do?”
“Ask her. She wasn’t exactly suited to what she was doing at the Alhambra.”
“Sh
e was working for Van Gelder?”
“Yeah.”
“What does she look like?” Duke asked, with interest.
“Pretty, dark-haired—very dark hair—creamy skin—”
“Annie.”
“What?”
“Sounds like Annie Tucker. Sure, I should have put that together when you said Sally Tucker.”
“You know Annie Tucker?”
“Everyone knows Annie. She the woman who went to the doctor’s with you?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s her sister who’s coming here for a job?”
“That’s right.”
“I tell you,” Duke said, looking excited, “if I could get Annie working here—but now, that’d never happen.”
“Why not?”
“She belongs to Van Gelder.”
“Belongs?”
“That’s what I said,” Duke said, opening the door. “Belongs. Lie back and relax. Breakfast will be here in minutes—and don’t even think about getting out of that bed again. Not for a while.”
“How do I eat?”
“Don’t worry,” Duke said, “I’ve taken care of everything.”
After Duke left Decker closed his eyes and tried to will the stiffness out of his shoulders, and pain out of his wound. He wanted to get up and get dressed, but the simple act of standing up had him sweating. He was lucky that Duke had some influence with the police.
He wondered idly if Tennant was on Duke’s payroll.
He wondered about the man he killed. He thought about Wesley Fairburn, the man he had killed in Evanville, Wyoming, last month. He was sure that both had died for the same cause—their unreasonable desire for revenge.
Fairburn had known he was in town, and had waited for a chance to face him.
The man last night couldn’t have possibly known he was in town, so it must have been sheer coincidence that they were in the same place at the same time—and the man had recognized him.
Fairburn had chosen to take his revenge face to face, but the man last night had chosen to shoot him in the back. Luckily, the man had hurried his shot for some reason—perhaps nerves—giving Decker a chance to react. Had he been a man with steel nerves…
Realizing how close he had come to death made him shiver.
Beauty And The Bounty Page 5