“I have a healthy respect for you, Joe. I always have. I know what you can do with a gun.”
Rigger withdrew his hand and said, “All right. Felicia, give the man my gun.”
The woman on the floor—a busty brunette in her late twenties—said, “Joe, I ain’t got any clothes on.”
“Come on now, Felicia, don’t be shy,” Joe Rigger said. “Decker’s an old friend of mine.”
“A friend?” she said in disbelief.
“Sure, from way back. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t already see all there is to see. Come on, sweet. Give the man my gun.”
The girl stared at Rigger, then at Decker, then shrugged and stood up, dropping the bedclothes. Her breasts were full and her nipples dark. Her slim waist contrasted with her rounded hips. She moved slowly, almost seductively, around the bed, as if enjoying the fact that both men’s eyes were on her.
Or was that what Rigger had in mind?
As she started to slide the gun from the holster Decker said, “Bring the whole thing.”
Obeying, she slid the holster from the bedpost and turned to him with it. Had he allowed her to approach him, with his eyes firmly fixed on her body, Rigger could easily have leaped from the bed onto him.
“Put it on that table over there,” Decker ordered, pointing away from himself.
She paused, then nodded and obeyed, walking away from him, but not so far that he couldn’t keep his eyes on both her and Rigger.
“Now you can leave,” Decker told her.
She looked at Rigger, who nodded and said, “Go ahead, Felicia.”
“Like this?” she demanded, horrified at the prospect.
Decker allowed her to dress, and then she moved quickly to the door.
“Do you want her to bring reinforcements, Joe?” Decker asked as she paused with her hand on the knob.
“Yes,” Rigger said, then smiled and added, “a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.” He looked directly at the woman and said, “And that’s all, Felicia.”
She nodded and left.
“Can I get dressed now?” Rigger asked.
“Sure, Joe,” Decker said, holstering his gun.
Rigger stood up and dressed, except for his boots.
“We can go into the next room. It’s my…office.”
“Lead the way.”
“I’ve got some guns in there, but I don’t intend to go for any of ’em. As far as I’m concerned,” he said, leading the way, “this is a visit between two friends.”
“You’ve got a funny way of remembering things, Joe.”
In Rigger’s office there was a desk with two chairs—one behind, one in front—and a divan against one wall. Rigger sat behind his desk, and Decker took the chair in front.
“If this is not a friendly visit, Decker, then why are you here? It’s not really that old threat, is it?”
“Threats to kill a man don’t die of old age, Joe.”
“Well, this one did. Only it died a young death, Decker. I decided not long after our last meeting that it was stupid of me to have threatened you.”
“I never got word of that.”
Rigger laughed.
“I never thought you took me seriously.”
“I always take you seriously, Joe.”
There was a knock on the office door. Viola stood there uncertainly, carrying a tray with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
“Viola, come on in,” Rigger said. “Meet my friend, Decker.”
“We met downstairs,” Decker said.
“You did? Did you also meet Carl?”
“The bartender? Yes,” Decker said. He took the shotgun shells out of his shirt pocket and dropped them on the tray Viola was holding. “These are his.”
Viola put the tray down, removed the bottle and glasses, and then picked it up again. She stared pointedly at the shotgun shells.
“Take them down to Carl, Viola,” Rigger said. “Tell him if it had been any man other than Decker, he’d be fired right now.”
The young woman nodded.
“And don’t leave after closing,” Rigger called after her as she left. “I may want you.”
“All right.”
As she left, Decker smiled and looked at Rigger.
“What about Felicia?”
“Felicia? Oh, you mean wanting Viola? I don’t
want her for me, Deck, I want her for you.”
“Oh.”
“Unless you’d prefer Felicia?”
“If it comes to a choice, I’ll make it.”
“Meanwhile,” Rigger said, grabbing the bottle and pouring two drinks, “have a drink and tell me what brings you here.”
Decker accepted the glass and said, “The Baron.”
Rigger barely let his feelings show on his face as he heard the name.
“What about him?” he asked, all bantering tone gone from his voice.
“I’m hunting him.”
“The Baron?” Rigger asked in surprise. “What’s he done to deserve you on his trail?”
“What he’s always done,” Decker said. “Same thing you do.”
“Then why aren’t you after me?”
“There’s no price on your head.”
“And there is on his?”
“Yep.”
“How much?”
Decker paused, wondering if the size of the price might drive Rigger back into the bounty-hunting trade.
“Fifteen thousand.”
Rigger whistled.
“Who’d he kill to earn that amount?”
“A boy,” Decker said. “A child.”
“A child?” Rigger said. “He hired out to kill a child?”
“He killed the kid after he’d killed his quarry.”
“By accident?”
Decker shrugged.
“No, that’s right. You wouldn’t care, would you? Not as long as that fifteen thousand dollars is on his head.”
“High talk from a former bounty hunter turned killer.”
“Touché,” Rigger said, raising his glass. “So, if you’re on his trail, why look me up?”
“Because he’s a professional. Normal methods will not work with him.”
“So you want me to help you?”
“Yes.”
“How? I don’t know where he is.”
“You’re a killer.”
“I don’t deny that.”
“And so is he. You can give me some idea of how he thinks, of where he’d be.”
“If he’s smart, he’s holed up somewhere.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know where.”
“Find out.”
“How can I find out?”
“I knew where you were. Somebody must know where he is. How do people get in touch with you when they want you?”
Rigger rubbed his jaw. Decker knew that there was a man you got in touch with when you wanted to hire Joe Rigger, and that man was in San Francisco. There had to be a man you contacted when you wanted the Baron.
Rigger could find out who that man was.
“You must think a lot of me,” Rigger stated.
“Not a whole lot,” Decker said, and Rigger laughed.
“You’re gonna have to give me time to think this over. After all, I’ve got to have some loyalty to my profession.”
Decker thought about Wellman and how much loyalty he had to his profession, and he knew that Rigger was talking through his hat. Still, Rigger would need time to figure out his angle, how he could benefit from helping Decker.
“All right,” Decker said. “Sleep on it, then.” He drained his glass and put it on the desk. “I’ll be at the hotel.”
“You can stay here—”
Decker interrupted Rigger by rising.
“I’ll stay at the hotel, Joe.”
Rigger shrugged and said, “Suit yourself. I’ll let
you know what I decide in the morning.”
Decker turned and headed for the door.
“Hey, Deck.”
“Yeah?”
“If you were to choose between Felicia and Viola, which would it be?”
Decker thought for only a second and said, “Viola.”
Rigger nodded and said, “Good choice.”