Bounty on a Baron (12 page)

Almost afraid to breathe, Josephine had stood in a doorway waiting for something to happen in the Broadus House across the street. When Brand finally came out and started down the street she realized that she had been holding her breath.

Her first thought was to run after Brand and go home with him, but he wasn’t the same man she had known and loved for so long and home wasn’t home anymore, either.

Once Brand was out of sight, she hurried across the street and into the saloon. Seeing Decker sitting alone at a table, she approached him.

Decker saw Josephine enter the saloon. Somehow her presence didn’t surprise him.

When she sat across from him, he asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Yes, please,” she said in a whisper. He noticed that her hands were shaking.

“Potts!” Decker called. “Can we get some coffee?”

“Sure.”

When Decker looked back at Josephine she was clasping her hands tightly together, as if she too had noticed that they were trembling and was trying to stop them.

“I saw him leave,” she said. “Was—was anything resolved?”

“Yes,” Decker said. “He said I won’t take him alive.”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip.

“I knew it,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“Josephine—”

“No,” she said, holding up her hand. “It’s all right. It surprises me, but I think I understand.”

Potts came over with a pot of coffee and two cups. Decker poured the coffee and pushed a cup across the table to her.

She looked at the cup but did not touch it.

“I—don’t know where to go,” she said finally. “I can’t go back to—to that house. I can’t go back to
him
…and yet I still love him.”

“Of course you do,” Decker said. “He hasn’t done anything to you.”

“But he has,” she moaned. “He’s ruined everything between us.”

“I ruined everything between you.”

“No,” she said. “If it hadn’t been you who came after him, it would have been someone else. You can’t take any blame for something he brought on himself.”

Decker didn’t reply to that. He sipped his coffee and waited for her to continue talking.

“I can’t go back to work,” she said. “I just can’t face anyone—” She looked at him and said, “This will be resolved today, won’t it?”

“Yes,” he assured her. “One way or another, it will.”

“When will you go after him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you, uh, agree…”

“You mean didn’t we agree to meet in the street at a certain time?”

She nodded.

“It’s not done that way, Josephine. No doubt he’s
gone back to your house to get his gun. He may wait for me there or he may come out. I might sit here for a while or I might go out into the streets. Sooner or later we’ll be facing each other, and that’s when it will happen.”

“How—how can you stand—to wait?” she asked. “Either of you?”

He smiled.

“A man can always wait to die, Josephine.”

“Are you prepared to die?”

He thought back to that day he’d stood on the gallows with a rope around his neck.

“I’ve been prepared to die for a long time.”

“You amaze me.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Do you think I could stay here…until it’s all over? I couldn’t stand to see…”

“Potts!” Decker said.

Potts had been listening, and he said, “Sure. I could use the company.”

Decker wished she would get up and leave, because if she stayed he would have to leave. He couldn’t possibly sit there with her watching him.

“I don’t know…what to do…” she said lamely.

“Just sit here,” he told her, “and wait.”

He stood up, pushing his chair back. As he started past her to the door, she grabbed his arm with both hands, a desperate look in her eyes.

“Don’t—” she started, then her voice broke. Abruptly she turned away from him and said, “Be careful.”

Decker was sure that was not what she had intended to say.

After Decker left, Potts walked over to the table
and asked Josephine, “Would you like me to heat this coffee up?”

For a moment he thought she hadn’t heard him, and then she looked at him and said, “May I have a glass of whiskey, please?”

Decker sat in a straight—backed wooden chair in front of his hotel and cleaned his gun. When that was done he picked up his rifle and cleaned that as well. He had a clear view of the street and, with his back to the wall, there was no chance of anyone getting behind him.

It was the thought of Josephine sitting in the saloon that finally prompted him to rise, pick up his rifle, and start down the street toward her house.

Might as well get it over with and not make the poor woman wait, he thought. Brand wondered where Josephine was, then pushed all thoughts of the woman from his mind. He couldn’t very well concentrate on Decker if he was thinking about her.

He strapped on his gun and checked his rifle one more time. He looked out the parlor window just in time to see Decker walking toward the house.

So this was it.

“Brand!” Decker called out when he stood directly in front of Josephine Hale’s house. He couldn’t even be sure if Brand was inside anymore.

“Brand! It’s time to leave, Brand!”

Decker waited, wondering if he should go to the back door and try to get in. He doubted that Brand was going to come out and just face him in the street.

He was about to move when he heard glass breaking and saw the barrel of a rifle poke out the window.

“Decker!”

“I’m here.”

“Come on in and get me, Decker. You don’t think I’m coming out there, do you?”

“It would be a lot easier.”

“Forget it,” Brand said. There was a shot, and some dirt was kicked up at Decker’s feet.

Decker knew that Brand had missed on purpose. He had simply fired to signify that this was it.

“I’m coming in,” Decker said.

“Come ahead!”

Before Brand could fire again Decker ran to his right, out of sight behind a nearby building. From there he worked his way around behind the building, and then to the back of Josephine’s house. He flattened himself against the wall and carefully made his way to the back door, first peering into the kitchen window.

Next to the back door was a wooden bin which was probably used for wood. Ducking low and moving as quickly as he could, Decker got to the bin and opened it.

As he suspected, the body of Kyle Roman had been squeezed inside. Brand must have had to break the corpse’s legs to fit him in there, another testament to the man’s strength.

Decker closed the bin, took a step back, and, holding his rifle chest-high, kicked the door with all his strength. Wood splintered, and the door crashed open. Decker went in quickly, holding the rifle out ahead of him. The kitchen was empty, and he flattened himself against a wall, listening intently, watching the door to the rest of the house.

For all he knew, Brand could have gone out the front door. Before he could verify that, he was going
to have to check the whole house. If Brand wanted to run, he had plenty of time to go to the livery, saddle a horse, and get out.

Decker was counting on Brand’s readiness to finish this here and now. He was certain the Baron was not the sort of man who’d run.

Sliding along the wall, he worked his way to the doorway and slowly peered around the corner. He found himself looking into the parlor. From his vantage point he could see the window that Brand had broken. The front door was still closed, so if Brand had left the house, he had closed the door behind him. If not, then he had most likely gone upstairs.

Decker eased into the parlor, his rifle ready, and checked behind the sofa. Confident that the room was empty—and, in fact, that the first floor was empty—he moved to the stairway. He listened intently, trying to hear some indication that Brand was upstairs. The scrape of a boot, the creak of a floorboard would have been welcome, but there was nothing.

Slowly, he started up the stairs, taking them one at a time, alert in case any of them creaked, giving
him
away.

Finally he reached the top step, sweat dripping from his chin. The inside of the house had become oppressively hot. His hands were slick on the metal of his rifle, and he wiped them on his pants one at a time.

At the top of the stairs he had to step around a corner in order to get a look at the second-floor corridor. Knowing that Brand would never fall for such a trick, he took off his hat anyway, hung it on the end of the rifle, and dangled it around the corner.

Nothing.

He put his hat back on, steeled himself, and then leaped into the corridor, staying low.

The corridor was empty.

There were apparently two rooms on this floor, one behind him and one in front of him. The room in the front would overlook the street.

Decker backed down the corridor to the room behind him, stopped just past the door and then repeated the technique he used to open the kitchen door. He hoped Josephine wouldn’t be too upset about all the broken doors.

This room was empty. Not only was there no one in it, there was no furniture in it, either. There were some cartons on the floor, but none large enough to hide a man. It was obviously used as a storeroom.

That left the front room, which must be the bedroom.

He moved down the corridor to the door, listened for a few seconds, then kicked it open and ducked inside. He swiftly covered the room with his rifle, first left, then right, but there was no sign of anyone there. Quickly, feeling foolish, he checked under the bed and in the closet, then stood up straight. Brand had obviously left the room, but where had he gone?

Decker was about to leave when he saw something on the window. Moving closer, he realized that it was a piece of paper hanging from the window lock. He walked over to it, saw that it was a note, reached for it—then cursed and threw himself to the floor just as a shot shattered the window.

“Shit!” he said between his teeth.

He had almost allowed himself to be suckered into standing in front of the window.

Cautiously he moved to the window on his knees,
avoiding the broken glass, and peered up over the window ledge. He was in time to see Brand retreating toward town.

Decker grabbed the note off the window and sat with his back to the wall to read it.

DECKER,

MEET ME IN TOWN FOR A HOT TIME

THE BARON

It was an invitation he couldn’t refuse.

Decker left the house knowing that Brand had turned this entire contest to his own advantage. He had waited for Decker to move inside the house, and then had left by the front door, closing it behind him. He probably hadn’t expected that trick with the note to work any more than Decker had expected his trick with the hat on the end of the gun to work.

Now Brand had moved the battle to the streets of the town, where he would probably assume that Decker would be concerned with the welfare of innocent bystanders.

If Brand was not concerned, then he had obviously given up all chances of saving his life in Broadus.

Now he was only trying to save his life.

Brand was undecided.

Initially he’d wondered if he wouldn’t be foolish not to go to the livery, saddle up, and ride out, but he knew that all that would do was postpone this showdown between him and Decker. He knew Decker’s reputation as a bulldog. He hunted one man until he caught him, no matter how long it took.

That kind of man would have to be taken care of now, when he had the chance.

Now he was undecided as to whether he should stay on street level or move to the rooftops. He had the whole town to play with, having effectively put Decker at a disadvantage.

It was then that he realized he was actually enjoying this.

With the whole town at his command, he was like a kid in a candy store.

Where should he go first?

Josephine only heard the shots because she had been listening for them. There was one shot, then a long silence as she sat hardly breathing until she heard the second one. After that she stood up and moved toward the batwing doors.

She stopped there. It took her a few seconds to become aware that the bartender, Potts, was behind her.

“You don’t want to go out there,” he said gently.

“Yes,” she said, “I do…but I won’t.”

She didn’t want either man to be killed because each was watching out for her.

Or would either one of them even be worried about that?

Decker, his rifle held in his left hand and resting on his shoulder, his right hand dangling by his cutdown, walked along the boardwalk on Main Street like he owned it.

The town was beginning to come to life, people walking on both sides of the street as well as in the middle, wagons clattering past, stores opening. Decker was alert for attack from either side or from the rooftops as he made his way to the livery stable. He still believed Brand wouldn’t run, but now he wanted to make sure.

When he reached the livery the old man was sitting in a chair out front.

“How you doing, old-timer?”

“Fine, mister.”

“And my horse?”

“Your horse is jest fine.”

“That’s good. Uh, you know a fella named Brand?”

“That fella that lives with Miss Josephine?”

“That’s him.”

“Ladies in town don’t approve of that, I kin tell you,” the old man said.

“I guess they wouldn’t. Does he keep his horse here?”

“He sure does. It’s that roan two stalls down from your gelding.”

“He hasn’t been here this morning, has he?”

“Nope.”

“I want you to do me a favor, old-timer.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to lock up for a while.”

“If I lock up, folks won’t be able to get their horses out.”

“That’s the general idea,” Decker said. He took out some money. “Let’s just say I’m renting the whole place for the morning, horses and all.”

The old man looked at the money in his hand and said, “Yes, sir, whatever you say!”

“Go get yourself some breakfast—and make it last.”

The old man stood up, padlocked the livery doors, then ambled away, counting his money.

Decker had effectively cut Brand off from his horse. Now the only way he’d get out of town was on foot or by stealing someone else’s horse.

From the rooftop of the Feed and Grain, Brand saw what Decker was doing, and he admired him for it. He’d managed to lock away both of their horses, and since, at this time of the morning, there weren’t that many animals on the street, Brand would have limited opportunity to steal one—not that he had any intentions of doing so. The only thing on his mind right now was getting rid of Decker.

He picked up his rifle and sighted down on the bounty hunter, who was standing in front of the locked livery. Brand knew he was a better shot with a handgun than a rifle, but he decided to give it a try, anyway.

Decker heard the shot and the sound of the bullet as it whizzed past his ear and embedded itself in the livery door. As he ducked for cover he realized
that the shot was too damn close to be a deliberate miss.

Brand was playing for the whole pot now.

Decker couldn’t see where the Baron was, but the highest point he could have fired from was the Feed and Grain. It afforded him the best view of the livery. That meant that Brand knew he was locked into town.

Decker moved around behind the livery, then along the back of a block of stores in order to get to the Feed and Grain. He knew Brand would be gone by now, but it would give him a starting point.

He’d never tried to track a man through a town before, but there was a first time for everything.

Josephine heard the shot and jumped in her seat.

“That was a rifle, wasn’t it?” she asked Potts.

“Sounded like it.”

“Decker has a shotgun, doesn’t he?”

“He does, but if he’s worth his salt, he’ll have his rifle with him too. That shotgun’s not gonna do him much good from across the street.”

“Were those shots fired from one gun or two?” Josephine demanded apprehensively.

“One, ma’am, but my guess is Decker won’t fire until he knows he’ll hit what he’s shooting at.”

“I see.”

“Can I get you something else, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she said. “I want another glass of whiskey.”

Brand had left the roof of the Feed and Grain just moments before Decker arrived on the scene. He was in front of the building while Decker was in back.

Brand was looking around, trying to gauge his
next move, when he noticed that the Broadus House was open.

Why would the saloon be open this early? he wondered.

He headed that way to find out.

Decker was on the roof of the Feed and Grain when he saw Brand go into the saloon.

“Shit!”