Decker holstered his gun and continued with his breakfast.
He was at odds now with the town sheriff, and that was not good at all.
He felt bad about Martha and figured that either the Baron killed her to frame him, or the sheriff himself did it. His money was on the sheriff. Roman didn’t have the nerve to try to kill Decker, but strangling a woman and pinning it on him was easier. He didn’t think a man like the Baron would have murdered a woman. If he wanted Decker out of the way, he’d face him and try to kill him himself.
Decker’s shoulder twitched, and he suddenly realized that it must have been Sheriff Roman who’d taken the shot at him the night before. That made him wish the man had drawn on him.
Furious, Kyle Roman stalked back to his office. He had let Decker back him down and he hated himself for it. He also cursed himself for missing the man the night before. He should have taken the time to get himself a rifle and not tried to make the shot with a handgun.
In his office he slammed his door, kicked his desk, and threw himself into his chair. He looked at his hands, which were still shaking. Decker was crazy to threaten a lawman. In fact, the man was just plain crazy, he thought.
Kyle clenched his fists and wished he’d had the nerve to wait for Decker to come out of the café and arrest the bounty hunter then.
Shit! he thought, he’d sneaked up to Martha’s room and strangled her in her sleep for nothing. There was no way he could prove to anyone—least of all a federal judge—that Decker had killed the girl, and Roman didn’t want a judge in town while Decker could possibly point a finger at him.
Decker had to die, and if Roman couldn’t do the job himself, he knew someone who could.
Decker finished his breakfast and readied himself to go out into the street. He didn’t like the feeling of being on the wrong side of the law, but then he didn’t consider Sheriff Roman to be much of a sheriff. The man was obviously out for himself, so it wouldn’t bother Decker to have to kill Roman if he got in his way. He’d have to square himself with the federal law on that, but he thought he could.
All he had to do was prove that Roman was using his badge to blackmail a wanted killer—and that he murdered an innocent woman as a means to further his own ends.
Decker stepped out on the boardwalk and looked around. He couldn’t see Roman anywhere, but if last night was any indication, the man was quite capable of back-shooting him. The only thing that might have kept him from doing that now was the fact that it was broad daylight.
Decker was really going to have to watch his step once darkness fell.
Chapter Twenty-four
Decker walked to the telegraph office to see if he’d received any replies to his wires. Fairly sure now that the Baron was in Broadus, he didn’t really think the wires were important any longer, but if he had received any co-operation from the lawmen in the other towns, he wanted to be able to acknowledge them.
As it turned out, he received no offers of cooperation. Apparently the lawmen in all three towns had no liking for bounty hunters, for none of them offered him the slightest bit of help.
It was just as well.
He tore up the messages and discarded them, then stepped outside.
Over breakfast Josephine asked Brand, “What are we going to do?”
“About what?”
“About what?” she asked. “About that man Decker.”
Brand looked at her across the table. She had come home in a highly agitated state the night before and had not been able to sleep very well. She looked drawn and haggard.
“Don’t worry about it,” Brand said.
“How can I not worry about it?”
“Go to work.”
She looked at him as if he were crazy.
“I can’t go to work!” she said.
“Sure you can.”
“Lucy can run the shop,” she told him, referring to the woman who worked for her.
“I want you to go to work, Josephine,” Brand said softly. “I don’t want to have to worry about you. Worrying about you could get me killed.”
“I don’t—” Josephine said, and then she stopped. She had been about to say that she didn’t understand that, but suddenly she did.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll go to work.”
“Good girl.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I think,” Brand said, “I’ll have a talk with our new friend, Decker.”
“You’re going to talk to the man who wants to kill you?” she asked incredulously.
“Maybe he can be reasoned with.”
“If everything you’ve said about him is true, I don’t see how you can hope to—”
“Sometimes,” he said, “I can be very persuasive.”
Kyle Roman was standing across the street from Josephine Hale’s house, waiting for her to go to work. For a while it looked as if she wasn’t going to leave, but finally the front door opened and she stepped out. He waited until she was out of sight before he crossed the street and knocked on the front door.
After a few moments the man known in Broadus as Brand, now known to Roman as the Baron, answered the door.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“We have to talk.”
“About what?”
“About a man called Decker,” Roman said, looking as if he expected the name to mean something to Brand.
“I know all about Decker.”
That deflated Roman for the moment.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Well…what are we going to do about him?”
“What are we going to do?” Brand asked.
“That’s right.” “Have you had breakfast yet, Sheriff?”
“No,” Roman said, looking confused.
“Well, come in and have a cup of coffee.”
At the poker game the night before Decker had not only found out where Josephine Hale lived, but also where she worked. He was standing across the street from her shop when she opened the front door with a key and entered. Only then did he step out of the doorway and start toward the southern end of town. Roman had two cups of coffee and listened to what Brand had to say.
“You want me to stay out of it?” he asked when Brand was fi nished.
“That’s right,” Brand said. “Decker is my prob lem, not yours.”
“But—”
“But what?”
“I—I—”
“Wait a minute,” Brand said. “I heard something about a shooting last night. That wasn’t you, was it?”
Roman stared helplessly at Brand.
“Did you try to shoot him in the back?” Brand asked.
“What are you getting so upset about?” Roman demanded. “If I’d killed him, you wouldn’t have to worry about him.”
“You son of a bitch!” Brand said. He reached across the table and pulled Roman to him by the shirt front. “I’ve never shot a man in the back in my life. Are you that much of a spineless coward?”
“I—I—”
Brand released Roman and pushed him back into his chair, where the man sat and stared at him, bewildered.
Brand stood up and began to walk around the table.
“What else have you pulled?” Brand asked. “Tell me.”
“Well—”
“Come on!” Brand shouted, poking Roman in the arm, jarring him. “Tell me.”
“I…I tried to frame him for murder.”
“Well, that was smart. How did that work?”
“It didn’t.”
“Tell me about it. Come on, if we’re going to be partners in this, you have to tell me everything.”
Reluctantly, Roman told Brand what he had done to Martha after Decker had left her. Brand listened, continuing to circle the table.
“So, you killed an innocent woman for nothing.”
“Well, you—you killed an innocent boy, didn’t you? Isn’t that why Decker’s after you?”
“That was an ac
cident,” Brand said, “an unfortunate accident. You, my friend, cold—bloodedly killed a woman who had nothing whatsoever to do with all of this.”
“It was the only thing I could think of.”
“And this,” Brand said, stopping behind Sheriff Kyle Roman, “is all I can think of.”
Too swiftly for the sheriff to realize what was happening, Brand slid his left forearm around Roman’s neck, put his right hand beneath the man’s chin, and twisted viciously. Roman’s body stiffened, shivered, and then went limp.
“That’s one problem solved,” Brand said, straightening up.
Decker stood across the street from Josephine’s house, trying to decide what to do. Finally he crossed the street and moved alongside the house, stealthily peering into windows as he went. When he finally got to the kitchen window he stopped and watched as a man stood behind the sheriff and quickly and efficiently broke his neck. There was no question about it. Only a man like the Baron would be capable of such an act. The bounty hunter had found his quarry at last.
Decker couldn’t really feel sorry for the sheriff. He had obviously gotten in way over his head due to greed.
Decker watched a moment longer, assessing his foe. The Baron lifted Roman up and tossed him over his shoulder. The man was obviously very strong, evidenced by both the move he’d used to break the man’s neck and the ease with which he was carrying the now-dead weight.
Rather than stay and watch the Baron dispose of the body, Decker decided to go somewhere to think and decide how best to confront this formidable opponent.
Chapter Twenty-five
Decker decided to go to the Broadus House and talk to the bartender, whose name he didn’t remember—if he’d ever known it at all. He wanted to assure the man that he had had nothing to do with Martha’s death.
When he reached the saloon the doors were locked, and he banged on them until they were opened.
“Decker,” the bartender said.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
The man stepped back and allowed the bounty hunter to enter.
“I heard what happened to Martha,” Decker said. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
“Where is she?”
“The undertaker’s.”
“Was the sheriff here?”
“He sure was.”
“He interrupted my breakfast by trying to arrest me for her murder.”
“That’s crazy,” the man said.
“Why do you say that? He seemed to think that since I was the last one with her, I was the logical suspect. In fact, I was afraid you’d believe it, too.”
“Naw,” the man said. “I saw Martha after you left her.”
“You did?”
He nodded.
“And she was fine. We exchanged a few words and then she went back to bed. Next thing I knew, she was dead.”
“I think I know who killed her.”
The bartender’s eyes widened and he asked, “Who?”
“The sheriff.”
“What?”
Decker explained his reasoning, and the bartender listened, nodding.
“The poor kid,” he said when Decker was finished. “If what you say is true, then she died for something she wasn’t even involved in.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Shit!” the man said.
“I don’t think I ever even learned your name,” Decker said.
“Potts.”
“Well, Mr. Potts, I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. I’d like to see that sheriff get his, though.”
“Don’t worry,” Decker said, opening the door to leave. “I’m sure he will.”
As he walked down the street, Decker got an idea and headed for the store that Josephine ran. As he entered, a little bell above the door tinkled, announcing his presence. The woman behind the counter looked up and smiled at him.
“May I help you, sir?” the woman asked. “Something for your wife?”
“I’d like to see the owner,” Decker said. “Miss Hale.”
“I can help you just as well—” the young woman began, but Decker cut her off.
“I’m sure you can, and I mean no disrespect, but I’d rather see Miss Hale.”
“Very well,” the woman said. “If you’ll wait one moment?”
“Of course.”
The woman disappeared through a curtained doorway, and when the curtain parted again Josephine Hale came through. Decker was surprised at how tall she was, her eyes nearly level with his.
“Yes? Can I help you?” she asked.
“Maybe I can help you,” Decker told her.
“Oh? How?”
Decker took the shoe heel he’d found in the livery from his pocket and laid it on the counter.
“You lost that.”
She looked at the heel, her eyes widening. Then she looked at Decker and saw the distinctive gun on his hip.
“Decker!” she said, her voice a harsh whisper.
“That’s right.”
She tried to run, but he grabbed her by the wrist.
“Please,” he said, holding her tightly. “I’m not here to frighten you or hurt you.”
“You are hurting me,” she said, trying to pull free.
“I’m sorry. When I let you go, please don’t try to run. We have to talk.”
“I’ll call the sheriff,” she said defiantly.
“I doubt he’ll be able to come. Your man broke his neck this morning.”
She stopped struggling and simply stared at him, a look of horror on her face.
He released her wrist, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“He broke his neck, right in your kitchen.”
She slapped him then, hard enough to make his ears ring.
“You’re a liar!”
“I’m not,” Decker said. “What name does he go by, this man of yours.”
“You know his name. You’re hunting him!” she snapped.
“I know him as the Baron,” Decker said, “but I don’t know his real name.”
“The Baron?” she asked, confused. “His name is Brand.”
“Just Brand?”
“It—it’s all I know.”
“He lives with you, and that’s all you know?”
“That’s all…he ever told me.”
“I’m sorry to show you this, Miss Hale,” he said, taking the poster from his pocket and handing it to her.
She read it, a growing look of horror on her face.
“A—a professional killer?” she said, staring at Decker. He winced at the pain he saw in her eyes but consoled himself with the knowledge that he wasn’t causing the pain, her man was.
“Yes.”
“It can’t be.”
He took the poster from her.
“What did he tell you?”
“That he had been framed for killing someone and that you were a bounty hunter. He said you wouldn’t be concerned with whether or not he was guilty, you’d just want to take him in.”
“He’s right,” Decker said. “As far as it goes, that’s all true. I hunt men for bounty and bring them in for trial. It’s up to a judge and jury to decide if they’re guilty or not. As a matter of fact, most of the men I hunt have already been found guilty.”
“But not…him?”
“Not yet. He’ll have to stand trial.”
“He—he said you’d want to kill him.”
“That’s why I came to see you,” Decker said. “Go to him, tell him I don’t want to kill him. Convince him to come back with me.”
“I can’t—” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t…go back there—”
“Whatever he’s done, Miss Hale,” Decker said, “I’m sure he loves you, or else why would he have kept coming back?”
“You’re—you’re confusing me,” she said. “First you say he’s a killer, then you say he loves me.”
“One doesn’t prevent the other from being true.”
“It can’t—that can’t be true. How could such a man—love?”
“Believe me,” Decker said, “all men can love, no matter what they do for a living.”
She looked at him now as if seeing him for the first time.
“You’re a strange man.”
“No stranger than he, or any other man. I’ve got a job to do, and I’d rather do it without killing him.”
“But—but you will if you have to.”
“If he forces me to,” Decker said, “yes.”
“Or he may kill you.”
“That’s very possible.”
“And yet you’ll still try to bring him in?”
“Yes.”
“To—to bring him to justice?”
“Please, don’t try to make me out some sort of saint, ma’am,” Decker said. “I want to bring him in for the bounty. No other reason.”
“I don’t—” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t understand either one of you.”
“I’m not asking you to understand us, I’m asking you to save one of us from being killed and one of us from killing.”
“I don’t—I still can’t believe—”
“Go and talk to him. You’ll know when he’s telling you the truth.”
“Yes,” she murmured, “yes…” She looked at him and asked, “Where will you be?”
He thought a moment, then said, “The Broadus House.”
She nodded and told him, “I have to go home.”
“I’m sorry about what I have to do. I truly am.”
She looked at his face again and said, “Yes, I do believe you are.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Brand had just finished disposing of Sheriff Roman’s body—albeit temporarily—when he heard the front door of the house open. He stiffened, then relaxed when Josephine came into the kitchen.
“What are you doing home?” he asked. Then he saw her face and said, “What the hell is wrong?”
“He came to see me.”
“Who?”
“Decker.”
“He did? What did he want?”
“He wants me to tell you that he doesn’t want to kill you.”
“That’s what he said?”
“Yes.”
He studied her for a moment and then asked, “And you believed him?”
“Yes,” she admitted, lifting her chin, “I did.”
Robert J Randisi Page 10