She slid his jacket down and looked at his shoulder.
“This doesn’t look too bad.”
“That’s what I told the doctor.”
“Let’s get your shirt off,” she said. “Help me.”
“Sure.”
Together they got his shirt off. When she saw the scars on his body, she gasped.
“Well,” she said, “you’ve been through this before.”
“Once or twice.”
“I can count,” she said. She looked the wound over and said, “The bullet is still in there. You didn’t tell the doctor that. I’ll have to get him.”
She started away, and he grabbed her arm.
“You do it.”
“You trust me?”
He moved his hand from her arm to her hand and said, “I trust these hands.”
She smiled at him and said, “OK, cowboy. Let’s get it done.”
After she got the bullet out, she cleaned and dressed the wound, then stepped back to admire her handiwork.
“Not bad, even if I do say so myself.” She was smiling, but there was a touch of sadness in her eyes.
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
“Linda Hamilton.”
“I’m Decker,” he said, putting his hand out.
She hesitated a moment, then put her hand in his.
“Thank you,” he said, shaking it.
“You’re very welcome.”
She helped him get his shirt and jacket back on. Then she smiled at him again. “Good luck,” she said.
“You didn’t even ask me how this happened.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious,” she said, “but I’m afraid I don’t have the time. I still have an hour to go on my shift, and we are very busy.”
She had a strand of hair caught on her left eyebrow so that every time she blinked, it moved. He reached up with his left hand and freed it.
“Goodbye,” she said.
“Goodbye.”
She drew the white curtain open and stepped out. He watched her walk down the hall.
Outside, Lieutenant Tally was waiting, smoking a cigarette.
“Finished already?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s take a ride to my office and talk a little bit. Feel up to it?”
“Sure. Let’s go.”
Police headquarters was otherwise known as the Central Office. It was located on Mulberry Street, between Houston and Bleecker streets. It was a handsome structure of white marble that extended through the block to Mott Street, where its front was brick.
The Central Office housed the offices of the commissioners and their clerks, the superintendent, the street-cleaning bureau, the detective squad, the chief surgeon and the rogues’ gallery. The building was also connected to each of the city’s thirty-five station houses by special telegraph wire.
Tally was assigned to the detective squad. He didn’t have an office but a desk in an office full of desks.
“Cigarette?” he asked, sitting behind his desk.
“Thanks,” Decker said, accepting one and lighting it from Tally’s.
“You got anything else to tell me, Mr. Decker?”
“Just Decker, no mister.”
“All right, Decker. What else is there?”
“That’s all, Lieutenant. I didn’t know those two, and I don’t know why they would try to kill me.”
“Well, take my advice,” Tally said. “The only reason those two would try to kill you is because they were hired to. That means that the man behind them might still want you.”
“I suppose so.”
“Might be time for you to leave town.”
“I just got here.”
“And already you’ve had more fun than most people do in a lifetime,” Tally said. “You want a ride back to the hotel?”
“No, I think I’d like a ride back to the hospital.”
“Feeling all right?”
“Fine. I met someone inside who’s very curious about how I got shot.”
“That makes two of us,” Tally said. “Oh, here. This is yours.”
He handed Decker Dover’s knife.
“I cleaned it.”
“Thanks,” Decker said. “What about my guns?”
“They’ll be returned to your hotel in the morning, but your rifle is still in your room.”
Decker put the knife into his coat pocket and thanked Tally again.
“Here’s my card,” Tally said. “If you think of something or have any more trouble, let me know.”
“Sure.”
“Oh, one more thing, Decker.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t think I’m buying this act of yours,” the lieutenant said. “I’m just giving you some time to think it over before we talk again—and we will be talking again.”
“I’ll look forward to it, Lieutenant.”
Chapter Five
While he was waiting for Linda Hamilton to come out, Decker thought back again to that time he and Dover “volunteered” to be deputies for a sheriff in a small Arizona town…
“Either one of you ever been to these parts before?” the sheriff asked.
They’d been out about three hours. The sheriff had picked up the trail just outside of town, and they’d been following it this far.
“Never been,” Dover answered.
The sheriff looked at Decker then and asked, “Your friend do all the talking for both of you?”
“Only when it comes to volunteering.”
“You’re both kind of young, aren’t you?”
“For what?” Dover asked.
The sheriff, a gray-haired man in his fifties, hesitated a moment, then said, “For a lot of things, I guess…”
After five hours they caught up to the robbers. Thinking they were in the clear, the men had stopped to care for one of their number who’d been shot.
When the firing started, the sheriff, Dover and Decker jumped from their horses and took cover. There were some spirited exchanges. Then the sheriff said, “Cover me.” They tried, but he only took five steps before he was hit by a barrage of bullets.
“Hey, deputies!” a man’s voice shouted. “Your boss is dead. Are those badges important enough for you to die for?”
Dover and Decker exchanged glances.
“It ain’t the badges, Deck,” Dover said. “It’s what they represent.”
“And what’s that?”
“Justice.”
“When did you become such a stickler for justice?”
Dover gave Decker a real serious look and said, “When I put on this badge.”
Decker stared at Dover. Then he shook his head slowly and said, “All right, let’s get ‘em.”
Then the two young men figured out their approach. In an hour they killed three of the gang and secured the remaining two for the trip back to town. After they tied the body of the sheriff to his horse, they returned to town with him, the two gang members and the bank’s money…
Dover had stayed on as the new sheriff, but Decker turned down his offer of a deputy’s badge and moved on.
Decker drifted for a while, was almost hanged for a crime he didn’t commit and became a bounty hunter.
When he met him almost five years later, Dover was also a bounty hunter. He had soured on a lawman’s high risk for low pay and lower esteem. The shine of the badge had dulled for Dover, but bounty hunting still satisfied his desire for justice…and his new-found desire for money…
“Hello.”
The voice disturbed his reverie.
He looked at Linda Hamilton, still wearing white but without her white cap. Her brown hair was attractively arranged. Her eyes, now a little tired, were still sad.