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