“We’ll pay him enough to keep him going until he can get himself another setup. There are always men on the run looking for a place to hide out.”
“And the girls?”
“We’ll give them some money, too.”
“I was kind of hoping to take the cute one along.”
“That kind of trouble we don’t need.”
“You’re right. I guess one more night with her will have to do it. Will you be ready to leave tomorrow?”
“In the morning,” Brian said.
“Fine. I’ll go and give the ladies the bad news. Will you be over later?”
Brian nodded.
“See you later, brother.” Brent started for the door and then stopped and turned. “I’m glad we got this all worked out.”
“So am I, Brent.”
As Brent left the saloon, Brian poured himself another drink. He was genuinely glad that it had been worked out amiably—but he was concerned that it had come too easily. His brother had something up his sleeve, and it made Brian nervous as hell.
On his way to see the two girls, Brent was glad he had finally figured out a way to break the stalemate that had existed between his brother and himself. Brian had always been the boss, and that had been fine when they were younger, but Brent was older now and he thought that it was time he started thinking for himself.
Chapter XIX
As darkness started to fall, they came to a fork in the road. Ahead of them Decker could see the rock formation Hudson had told him about. It was several hundred feet high, coming to a peak at the top and then widening out as it came down.
They stopped at the fork and looked at the two crudely made signs. One said: fenner’s fork and pointed to the left fork, or the east one, and the other said: eaton’s fork and pointed right, or west.
“What do we do now?” Felicia asked.
“We’ll camp off the road a ways and in the morning we’ll pick a fork.”
They rode about fifty yards off the road and camped in a dry gully.
“Why here?”
“I don’t want to take a chance on being seen from the road, just in case someone is traveling at night.”
They took care of the horses, then Decker told her there’d be no cooking that night.
“We’ll build a small fire, but I don’t want the scent of coffee or bacon giving us away.”
“Well, let’s see what the Hudsons gave us in the sack.”
She began pulling out food.
“Cold chicken, some cans of fruit, some biscuits. With this, who needs hot food?”
They had their dinner and laid out their bedrolls.
“Decker?”
“What?”
“Did you want me to stay with the Hudsons?”
“No.” His answer came without hesitation.
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want to see you become wife number three.”
“Oh, God!” she said. “There’s no chance of me ever marrying a Mormon.”
“Or an older man.”
“Well, not somebody a lot older, anyway.”
“Go to sleep.”
“I’m not sleepy.”
“I am.”
“No you’re not,” she said. “You’re never sleepy. I’ve never met anybody like you.”
“I’m just a man.”
“Decker,” she said, “when you lie down and close your eyes—I mean, when you decide that you’re going to sleep—you’re asleep like that. Then in the morning when you wake up, you open your eyes and you’re awake right away. You don’t even rub your eyes! That’s not normal.”
“It is for me.”
“See? You’re not normal.”
“Well, neither are you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Fourteen-year-old girls should not be traveling with bounty hunters. They should be home going to school, cooking for their grandfathers, and having boyfriends their own age.”
“Boys my own age are…boys.”
“They’re supposed to be.”
“Yech!”
“Felicia.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve just decided to go to sleep.”
And he did.
While Decker slept, Felicia watched him. If, as he had said, he was twice her age, that made him twenty-eight.
Sara had told her that she was seventeen, and that her husband John was forty-four. As far as Felicia was concerned, twenty-seven years was just too big a difference.
But it made fourteen years look like nothing at all!
On the south side of the rock formation was another camp, where one person dined on beef jerky.
In the morning a choice would be made as to which fork to take.
The east or the west.
A lot would depend on the decision.
Chapter XX
In the morning Decker and Felicia mounted up and faced the fork.
“Right,” Decker said.
“Why?”
“Because we’ve got to choose one, and if I had said left, you would have asked why.”
“And you would have given me the same answer. Okay—right.”
They took the right fork, heading for Eaton’s Fork.
At the south end of the formation the identical decision was made. To head left, to Eaton’s Fork.
Eaton’s Fork was a ghost town.
“Nothing’s moved here for years,” Felicia said as they rode down the main street.
“We’ll have to check it out before we decide we’ve made the wrong choice and double back.”
Decker was glad that Felicia had the good sense not to point out that the decision was his.
They stopped in front of what had been the saloon and dismounted.
“Stay here.”
Decker went inside and immediately knew they were in the wrong place. Layers of dust covered everything. There were full bottles on some of the shelves behind the bar. If anyone had been here, it would have been impossible to hide his presence. There was no guarantee that Fenner’s Fork wouldn’t be the same way, but they were going to have to check it out.
He stepped back outside and knew something was wrong. Felicia was standing too stiffly.
“What is it?”
Felicia looked to his right and he followed her eyes and saw the gun.
“Where is Brian Foxx?” the woman holding the gun asked.
The woman was tall, full-bodied, apparently in her twenties. It was also apparent that she had traveled a long way and was looking for the same thing he was.
“He’s not here.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” the woman said.
“Go inside and check for yourself.” He looked at Felicia and said, “Mount up. We’re going to have to double back and check the other place.”
“Don’t move!” the woman said.
Decker looked at her again. She had long auburn hair that tumbled to her shoulders from beneath a beat-up white Stetson. Cleaned up she’d be beau-tiful.
“Look. I’ve already checked inside and I don’t have time to play games. I’m looking for Brian Foxx, too, and if I want the reward money I guess I’m going to have to find him before you do.”
“You don’t ride with him?”
“Hell, no.”
She squinted at him and said, “Bounty hunter?”
“That’s right.”
“And her?”
“Meet the world’s youngest newpaper reporter. This young lady is looking for a story Would you like us to give her one here and now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean put that gun away before I take it away from you. You’ve already had it out long enough without using it. Its value has gone way down.”
“Look,” the woman said, obviously nervous, “how do I know I can believe you?”
From inside his shirt pocket Decker took out Foxx’s poster. He unfolded it and held it out to the woman. As she came closer and reached for it, he dropped it and grabbed h
er wrist. He spun her around so that she was facing the other way and pulled her to him, then clamped his other hand down on her gun hand. He took the gun away from her and pushed her aside.
“He’s telling the truth,” Felicia said to the woman. She mounted the boardwalk, picked up the poster, and handed it to the woman.
“He really is a bounty hunter. His name is Decker.”
“Let me do the introductions, please, Felicia,” Decker said. “What’s your name?”
“Rebecca Kendrick,” the woman said, rubbing her wrists.
“Why are you looking for Brian Foxx?”
“He killed my brother in Doverville, Arizona, when he robbed the bank.”
“And you trailed him this far?”
The woman nodded, still massaging her wrists.
“Look,” Decker said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He held her gun out to her and she eyed him suspiciously. “Go on, take it and put it away. We have some talking to do.”
She took the gun and holstered it.
“Do you want to check inside?”
“No,” Rebecca Kendrick said. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Where’s your horse?”
“Back a couple of streets.”
“Let’s get it and get moving. We’ve got to get to Fenner’s Fork.”
“What do we have to talk about?” she asked as they walked. Felicia had mounted Nellie and was leading John Henry along behind them.
“I’ve been trailing Brian Foxx from a town called Heartless, Wyoming. He pulled a bank robbery there on the same day your brother was killed.”
“But that’s impossible. Witnesses saw him in Doverville.”
“And witnesses saw him in Heartless.”
“But how could that be?”
As they reached her horse, Decker said, “Well, my partner here has a theory…”
They doubled back the way Decker and Felicia had come, Decker and Rebecca riding side by side. Felicia rode behind them, fuming. She didn’t like Rebecca Kendrick because she was so damn pretty.
“Twins,” Rebecca said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe that.”
“I don’t quite buy it either, but it is an interesting theory,” Decker said. “It would explain how they do it.”
“If there are two of them,” Rebecca said, “how am I supposed to know which one to kill?”
“Well,” Decker said, “it doesn’t really matter, does it? You kill one and I’ll take the other one in for the reward.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“Are you so sure you’re going to kill him?”
“He killed my brother.”
“All that means is that we know he can kill. The question is, can you?”
After a moment of silence, Rebecca said, “I really don’t know.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“But I’ve come all this way…. ”
She explained to Decker that her strategy was simply to travel in a straight line in the same direction that “her” Brian Foxx had taken. He didn’t comment on the fact that an amateur had come up with the same strategy as he’d used—and he was a professional.
It was too embarrassing.
It was midday when they rode into Fenner’s Fork, and it didn’t look any better than Eaton’s Fork had, except for one thing—one of the buildings had smoke coming from the chimney.
“Well, at least somebody’s here,” Decker said.
“Let’s take a look,” Rebecca said.
“Hmph,” Felicia said, but nobody heard her.
They rode over to the building and found that it was the saloon.
“More and more encouraging,” Decker said.
They dismounted and Decker told Felicia to stay outside and hold the horses.
He looked at Rebecca and asked, “Can you do anything with that gun besides point it?”
“If I have to.”
“That’s a distinct possibility. You might want to wait out here with Felicia.”
“I’m going inside with you, Mr. Decker.”
Decker grimaced and said, “Just Decker.”
Decker approached the batwing doors, drawing his weapon. He passed through the doors quickly and stepped to his right, swinging the sawed-off back and forth to cover the room. He was pleased to see that Rebecca came in right on his heels and moved to her left, gun drawn.
“Hey!” the bartender said, putting his hands up. “If you ain’t got the money, it’s on the house.”
Decker’s eyes took in the whole room and it was empty.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Sam.”
“Anybody else here, Sam?”
“Here in the saloon, or here in town?”
“Answer both.”
“Nobody else here, but there’s a few people in the town. Couple of girls over in the hotel, if you’re interested.” Sam looked past Decker at Rebecca and added, “Although I don’t see why you would be.”
“Has there been anyone else here in the past couple of weeks?”
“Well, let’s see—”
Decker had an instinct he trusted. It told him when somebody was going to lie to him, and it was talking to him now. He let go one barrel of the sawed-off and took out most of the liquor bottles on the man’s right. The bartender ducked, but couldn’t avoid the shower of whiskey and glass that fell on him like baptismal water.
“Hey!” he shouted.
“Mister, I don’t care how much they paid you,”
Decker said, “you can’t take it with you when you die—which should do in about five seconds. Now, I’ll ask you again…”
“What happened?” Felicia asked when they came back outside.
“The Foxxes were here,” Decker said, looking unhappy.
“The Foxxes?”
“That’s right, the Foxxes,” he said. “There’s two of them, Brian and Brent.”
“And they’re twins?”
“Identical.” He still looked unhappy.
“I told you so,” Felicia said—and that was why Decker looked unhappy.
He knew she would say that.
They mounted up and headed out of town quickly.
“How long ago did they leave?” Felicia asked.
“This morning,” Rebecca said. “All this riding and I miss him by a matter of hours.”
“Look on the bright side,” Decker said.
“Which is?”
“At least now we’ve got a live trail to follow.”
PART THREE
FOXX TRAIL
Chapter XXI
Brent Foxx insisted that he felt his horse going lame and he wanted to stop in Bell’s Crossing.
“We’ve only gone about forty miles, Brent. We’ve still got some daylight left.”
“Just let me get the horse checked, Brian. We don’t want it going lame out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Let me take a look at it.”
“When did you become an expert in horseflesh?”
“It’s not wise for both of us to go into town together.”
“Fine, let me go in and you wait here. I’ll be back real quick.”
Brian frowned, but then finally agreed.
“Be back in an hour, Brent, even if you have to buy a new horse.”
“I’ll be back, brother,” Brent said. “Count on it.”
Brent Foxx rode into Bell’s Crossing, but instead of heading for the livery stable he headed for the bank.
He hadn’t looked this bank over for that long— after all, he’d simply passed through the town recently on the way Tomeet his brother—but he was sure that it would be easy. He’d hold it up and meet Brian within an hour, just like he’d agreed.
He left his horse in front of the bank and went up onto the boardwalk to the front door. It was getting late and he could see through the window that the bank wasn’t busy. The town was a small one, and as he checked the street, he saw that it was sparsely populated.
Perfect.
He entered the bank and stood behind the elderly woman who was standing at the only teller’s cage. He waited a few moments, but she was taking so long with her transaction that he finally ran out of patience.
“Excuse me, lady,” he said, pushing her aside.
“Young man!” she objected, but the force of his push staggered her and she stumbled, trying to keep her balance.
He pointed his gun at the teller and said, “Let me have the money, friend, and make it quick. I got an appointment.”
The teller, a young man, froze with fear.
“Come on, jasper, I ain’t got all day.”
When Brent poked the gun through the bars, the barrel almost touched the young man’s nose. The teller pulled a bank sack over and began filling it with money.
“Where’s the manager?” Brent asked.
“H-He’s in the o-o-office.”
“Good,” Brent said, just as the office door opened and the manager stepped out.
“What the hell—” he said, staring. He was a barrel-chested man with a full mustache that hid his mouth.
“We’re being robbed, Mr. Levi,” the teller said, still filling the sack.
“Look here, fella—” the manager began, but the teller stopped him.
“Mr. Levi, don’t you recognize this fella?”
“I do not.”
“He’s Brian Foxx.” The teller looked at Brent and pushed the sack under the cage. “You are Brian Foxx, aren’t you?”
“That I am, sonny,” Brent said, accepting the sack. “Now don’t anybody make a move until I’m to hell and gone, hear? I’d hate to have to shoot somebody. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” the teller said.
The manager harumphed his disapproval but remained silent.
Brent backed his way to the door, then averted his eyes in order to open it.
At that point the elderly woman, who had since righted herself, reached into her cloth bag and pulled out a small derringer.
“Mrs. Maxwell!” the teller shouted.
Brent turned in time to see her point the gun at him and pull the trigger, a look of pure glee on her face.
Double The Bounty Page 6