“Apparently I wasn’t the first one that she had thrown herself at, and that, combined with the fact that I knocked him down in front of her, made him mad enough to attack his own wife. I don’t know if he meant to kill her, but he did, after raping her.”
“And what happened to you?”
“The hangman took the noose off my neck and untied my hands and walked away.”
“No apology?”
“Nobody apologized. When I walked down off the gallows, nobody was even there anymore. They’d gone home disappointed that they weren’t going to see a hanging.”
“And the sheriff?”
“He resigned and left town, and I rode with him for a short time. He tried to get me to take up being a lawman, but I had other ideas.”
“Bounty hunting?”
“For a reason. I want to be able to get to the ones who are going to be hanged and satisfy myself that they’re guilty before I hand them over. I don’t want what happened Tome to happen to any other innocent men.”
“And the noose?”
“The noose is a reminder of what almost happened Tome, and why I took up bounty hunting. I lose sight of my reasons once in a while, and the noose brings it back Tome.”
“Does that mean you won’t bring Brian Foxx in unless you’re convinced of his guilt?”
“That’s what it should mean, but I’ve been finding myself already convinced. I mean, the eyewitness descriptions are pretty damaging.”
“Which ones?”
Decker stared at her and then sipped his coffee. It had grown cold while he told his story. He dumped it into the fire and poured another cup.
“You’re right, Felicia. Maybe I need more than the noose to remind me of my reasons.”
“Does that mean we can be partners?”
He stifled a grin and said seriously, “Let’s not get carried away.”
Later, after they had retired, Felicia said, “Decker?”
“What?”
“Are you asleep?”
“No.”
“What about the gun?”
“What gun?”
“The one you wear.”
“I told you, I’m not very good with a handgun.”
“Did you try to learn?”
“Mike Farrell was pretty good with a gun, and he tried to teach me, but it was hopeless, so he brought—”
“Wait a minute,” she said, sitting up. “Mike Farrell. I know that name.”
“Yeah, Mike went on Tomake a pretty good name for himself as a federal marshal.”
“He’s had dime novels written about him.’Iron Mike’ Farrell they call him.”
“I guess. Anyway, he took me to a gunsmith friend of his and asked the man to design something for me that wouldn’t require that I aim. That’s when he came up with this rig.”
“You and Iron Mike Farrell,” Felicia said, with more than a little awe in her voice. “Decker, do you know Wild Bill Hickok.”
“Felicia.”
“Yeah?”
“Go to sleep.”
Chapter XVII
The next afternoon they came within sight of a ranch house. There was a barn that was in a state of disrepair, and a corral with a few horses in it, but beyond that it didn’t look like much of a spread.
“Are we going to stop?” Felicia asked.
“To water the horses and ask some questions.”
Felicia moved as if to go forward, and Decker put his hand on her arm to stay her.
“We don’t know who’s down there, Felicia, and so far my questions have not been well received.”
“You want me to watch you closely, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll go first.”
Decker urged John Henry on and Felicia fell in behind them.
As they approached the ranch house, the front door opened and a man stepped out. He was followed by a woman, and then a girl.
The man appeared to be in his midforties, solidly built, his black hair flecked with gray and cut short. He had a solid jaw and a thin slit of a mouth. The woman was about thirty-five, handsome and well-shaped, with dark hair pinned up in a bun. The girl was no more than seventeen or so, slender and blonde, her hair worn long and loose. She was very lovely.
“Can I help you?” the man asked.
At that point Decker veered John Henry to his right, and the people on the porch became aware of Felicia.
“John…” the woman said, putting her hand on the man’s arm. Decker assumed that they were husband and wife, and that the girl was their daughter.
“My name is Decker,” he said, “and this is Felicia.”
“Is she your daughter?” the woman asked.
“No, ma’am, we’re just traveling together.”
“For what purpose?” the man asked.
“I’m looking for someone,” Decker said. “A red-haired man who may have passed this way within the past two weeks.”
“And the girl?”
Decker looked at Felicia, who remained silent.
“She’s a newspaper reporter, looking for a story.”
“Is that right?” the man said. He looked at Felicia and said, “You seem so young.”
“I’m fourteen, and Mr. Decker is making fun of me. My grandfather has a newspaper, and I want to be a reporter. I followed Mr. Decker from Wyoming because I think he’ll make a good story.”
“Followed him?”
“She trailed me and eventually caught up with me. She’s very determined.”
“So it would seem,” the man said. The woman leaned over and said something into his ear, and the man nodded. “My wife would like to ask that you step down and have lunch with us. We would be most pleased if you would accept.”
Felicia looked at Decker, who nodded.
“We’re grateful, ma’am,” he said to the woman.
“Would you like to put your horses in the barn?”
“Thank you.”
“Why doesn’t the young lady come inside with us,” the woman suggested, “while you and my husband take care of the horses.”
“All right,” Decker said, and Felicia stepped down.
“This way,” the man said, taking the reins of Felicia’s horse and leading the way to the barn.
Inside the barn, as they unsaddled the horses, the man said, “My name is John Hudson.”
“I’m grateful to your wife for the offer. I’ve been trying to get Felicia to return home. Your daughter is not much older than she is. Maybe she can help me persuade—”
“Sara is not my daughter,” John Hudson said. “She is my wife.”
“I’m sorry,” Decker said, “I thought the other woman—”
“Esther is also my wife.”
Decker pulled the saddle from John Henry’s back and shifted it to a post, where he balanced it.
“We are Mormons,” Hudson said.
Hudson turned to face Decker.
“You do not disapprove?”
“It’s not my place to disapprove, Mr. Hudson.”
“Please, call me John. Let us go and have lunch.”
“Sounds good.”
They watered and fed the horses and then Decker followed Hudson to the house, trying not to judge or disapprove. The way these people wanted to live their lives was up to them.
At least the man had good taste in wives.
Decker followed Hudson into his house, where he was assailed by delicious odors. Apparently one or both of his wives could cook as well.
Felicia hurried to Decker’s side and hissed, “They’re Mormons.”
Decker shushed her.
They all sat down to lunch. Felicia sat next to Sara. The women did most of the talking until John Hudson finally spoke, at which time his wives dutifully fell silent.
“This man you are after, is it Brian Foxx?”
“It is.”
“Are you a lawman?”
“No, I’m a bounty hunter.”
“I see. You are after the man for the price on his head.”