She touched the hangman’s noose while he tied the sack to the back of his saddle.
“Did you read the book?”
“I did.”
“What did you think?”
“It wasn’t bad.”
“But was it you?”
He turned and looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and shining, her nose pug with freckles on the bridge. She was going to be a beauty when she got older and filled out.
“No, Felicia, it wasn’t me. I admit it was real close, but somebody’s imagination is pretty good, is all.”
“Mr. Buntline’s.”
“Yes.”
“I have heard of you, though,” she said, still touching the noose.
“Have you?”
“Or read about you, I should say. The bounty hunter who carries a hangman’s noose on his saddle. I always wanted to ask you why.”
“When you get a little older, I’ll come back and tell you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Great! And maybe then, if I’m pretty enough, you’ll take me with you when you leave.”
“You’ll be pretty enough,” he said, mounting up, “but we’ll have to talk about that when the time comes.”
“Wait,” she said as he started to ride out. “Don’t you want to hear my ideas?”
“I don’t have time, Felicia.”
He was riding away when he heard her shout out, “You’re a fool if you don’t realize that you’re looking for two men!”
In Doverville, Arizona, a rider left town at first light the same day, traveling light. The intention of this rider was to ride in a straight line from Doverville to Heartless, Wyoming.
Decker made excellent time and crossed into Utah in three days. Ol’ John Henry may have lacked the speed of younger horses, but his stamina was as good as ever.
Along the way he had not stopped in many towns. He was trying to put himself in Brian Foxx’s place. The man had just pulled a bank robbery and would be looking for a place to light for a while—maybe even the same place after every job.
One thing Decker had learned about Brian Foxx was that his jobs—the “dual” jobs—were confined largely to Wyoming and Arizona, with an occasional foray into New Mexico.
Why not Utah?
Why not Colorado?
The answer was simple. Foxx’s home between jobs was in one of those places, and Decker’s immediate guess was Utah.
He also figured that Foxx wouldn’t stop in any towns for supplies or whatever until he entered Utah. His face was too well-known to risk stopping in a Wyoming town, especially when he’d pulled a robbery so recently
Men in Decker’s profession often relied on hunches, and he had a hunch that Foxx was heading for a hole somewhere in Utah.
PART TWO
FOXX HUNT
Chapter X
The first town Decker encountered in Utah was South Bend. It was rather small, but it might have been the right size for Foxx to stock up on supplies and take a night’s rest in a real bed.
Decker left ol’ John Henry in the hands of the liveryman and said, “I won’t be staying long. I just want him to have some feed and a blow.”
The man nodded and took the reins. When he saw the noose, he paused, but then continued with-out a word. Decker left his shotgun and saddlebags on the saddle and walked out.
He went to the saloon first for a beer to cut the dust, then went to the general store.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes,” Decker said. He took a licorice stick from a glass bowl and said, “How much?”
“A penny.”
He took two more and handed the man a nickel.
“I’m looking for a friend of mine who might have passed through here.”
“Is that so?” the man said, handing him the change.
“You couldn’t miss him. Red hair and freckles like a kid, only he’s no kid.”
The man didn’t reply. He was in his early forties and looked more like a ranch hand than a store clerk. Big shoulders, big hands with black hair on the backs of them.
“He might have come in here to stock up on some supplies. You might have waited on him.”
“Can’t say that I did,” the man said.
“Maybe if you thought about it—”
“Can I get you something else, mister? If not, you’re taking me away from my other customers.”
Decker looked around and saw that the place was empty.
“What other customers?”
“They’ll be along shortly.”
“Uh-huh,” Decker said. He decided not to push the man. “Thanks for the licorice.”
“Don’t mention it.”
As he left the store, he saw a man walking toward him holding a child by each hand, one a boy and the other a girl. They appeared to be about six or eight, and the woman looked to be in her early thirties, pleasant looking but no beauty.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, stepping in front of her. She caught her breath but relaxed when Decker handed each of the children a licorice stick.
“Do you like licorice, ma’am?”
“Very much,” she said.
He handed her the last one, tipped his hat, and stepped into the street.
“What do you say?” he heard her ask the children.
“Thank you,” they both called after him.
Decker waved a hand behind him and promptly forgot all three of them.
His next stop was the sheriff’s office, where he hoped he wouldn’t run into any more old, familiar faces.
He didn’t.
“Excuse me, Sheriff.”
The man behind the desk looked up, and Decker could see that he was being sized up. The lawman was about his age, but beefier, with big hands that had black hair on the backs of them.
“Can I help you?”
“You are the sheriff, aren’t you?”
The man nodded.
“Sheriff Blocker.”
“Well, Sheriff, my name is Decker. I’m looking for Brian Foxx, and I have reason to believe he may have passed through this town in the past two weeks or so.”
“Bounty hunter?”
“That’s right.”
“There’s no paper on Foxx in Utah.”
“I know that.”
“I haven’t seen him.”
“Would you tell me if you had?”
“No.”
“Don’t you want to see a wanted man brought to justice?”
“Not to your justice.”
“I thought there was only one kind of justice.”
“Bullshit. You’re a bounty hunter, and your justice is not the same as mine.”
Decker noticed that when he mentioned Foxx to people in this town they became belligerent.
“I’ll be in town for a short time,” he told the lawman. “I’ll be leaving before evening.”
“You should leave sooner than that.”
“I’m giving my horse some rest, if you don’t mind.”
“I do, but I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do about it.”
“I guess not.”
Decker started for the door, but the sheriff called out, “Decker.”
“Yeah?”
“I wouldn’t ask any questions about Brian Foxx in this town.”
“Why not? Was he born here?”
“No, I just don’t think people would take kindly to it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Sheriff.”
“You do that.”
Decker left and headed for the saloon. If there was one place Foxx would have definitely stopped, it was the saloon.
After Decker left the sheriff’s office, the lawman stood up and walked to the window. He watched as Decker walked toward the saloon, then he left his office and crossed the street to the general store and went inside.