Well, one day he just up and kicked himself out of office. He had gone over to the bank, robbed it, rode out and never looked back.
Five more times he had done that, finding five towns who needed a sheriff very badly. Moran’s biggest weapon was his innocent face, and he used it to his best advantage.
He still had all six badges that he’d worn, for he always kept the badge as a souvenir.
Now he’d take the money from the Pemberton bank, ride on down to Mexico, piss it away on food and booze and whores, and then come back over the border and find himself another town.
It was as easy as that.
Prologue II
Hastings, Kansas
Decker paused in front of the Hastings, Kansas, sheriff’s office to read the posters that were affixed to the oustide wall. There were a few possibilities, but the one that caught his eye was a poster for a man named Moran.
The poster also called him “The Lawman.”
It explained that Moran had ridden into six different towns, gotten himself appointed sheriff and then within anywhere from two weeks to two months he would up and rob the bank and leave town. The latest case in point was a town called Pemberton, in the Colorado Territory, and that had been a scant week ago. The poster was very recent.
The drawing on the poster showed a man with a face that was easy to trust. It was smooth and youthful, even though the poster gave his age as thirty-five.
This one would be interesting, he thought. He pulled the poster down off the wall and studied it.
What irony, he thought, a bounty hunter tracking down “The Lawman.”
“Does that one suit your fancy, bounty hunter?” a voice asked.
Decker looked up and saw the sheriff of Hastings, Kevin Rändle, a man he knew well enough to call by his first name—which by no means meant that they were friends.
“This fella is sure giving you and yours a bad name, Kevin.”
“Go after him, then.” Rändle reached over and tapped the poster with his forefinger. “This is one time I wouldn’t mind seeing you make some money.”
As the sheriff went into his office Decker looked at the poster again. The reward was twenty-five hundred dollars, because in Pemberton “The Lawman” had made one big mistake.
He had hit the bank manager too hard, and the man had died.
So added to the bank robbery charges in six territories was the charge of murder in one.
Decker took the poster with him and went into the sheriff’s office.
“That the one you’re takin’?” the sheriff asked from behind his desk. He had poured himself a cup of coffee, but he did not offer Decker one.
“This looks like the one. How much do you know about him, Kevin?”
Rändle shrugged. He was a youngish man—early thirties or so—and had worn a badge in this town for about three years. Before that he’d been a deputy in several other places.
“Just what every other lawman in the country knows. He hits a town and then lays low for a while before hitting another one. Rides in, becomes sheriff, stays anywhere from two weeks to two months, then robs the bank and rides out again. Boom, disappears for weeks, months at a time.”
“Spending the money.”
“Most likely. He sure as hell don’t seem to be saving it.”
“That kind never does. What about the badges?”
Rändle frowned.
“What about ’em?”
“Does he leave them behind?”
“Damned if I know that. Why?”
“Just wanted to know all the facts before I took out after him.”
“I do know one thing about him.”
“What?”
“He’s a pretty arrogant sonofabitch!”
“Why do you say that?”
“He uses his real name. He used to be a lawman, you know, a legitimate lawman in Wyoming. He robbed the town he worked in for two years, and he’s been going ever since. Six towns in thirteen months.”
“Where’s he been concentrating?”
“All over, never the same state or the same territory twice. The Wyoming Territory, the Dakotas, Nebraska, Nevada, the Utah Territory, and the Colorado Territory. Also, you’d think that using his real name he’d have built up a reputation that would warn people.” Rändle shook his head. “The only people who know him are lawmen and bounty hunters, because we read the posters. Why, I’ll bet that the people in the towns he’s robbed think they’re the only ones he hit.”
“Well, maybe his own arrogance will trip him up.”
“Well, as much as I don’t like bounty hunters, Decker, this is one bounty I’d like to see you collect. This yahoo is wanted dead or alive, and it don’t make no never mind to me or any decent lawman how you bring him back.”
Rändle was dead serious.
“That’s nice to know, Kevin. Thanks for the information.”
Yep, this one should be real interesting.
Chapter One
Pemberton wasn’t a big town, but as small towns go it appeared to have pretty much everything a town should have.
Decker noticed this as he rode down Pemberton’s main street.
They had a livery a hardware store, a hotel, a saloon, a haberdasher’s shop, a gunsmith’s shop, one of everything a town needed to survive and prosper.
The only thingh they didn’t have anymore was a sheriff—unless, of course, they had elected one during the two weeks since “The Lawman” had robbed their bank.
Decker put his horse up in the livery and went over to the saloon for a drink.
“Help ya?” the bartender asked.
It was after noon, and the saloon was doing a brisk business. It was the only saloon in town, so anyone who wanted a drink would have to go there.
“Beer, cold.”
“As cold as we can get it.”
Which turned out not to be cold enough, but Decker didn’t complain. At least it was wet, and it cut through the dust.
“Got a sheriff in this town?” Decker asked.
“That’s sort of a sore point right now, Mister.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“We had a sheriff, but two weeks ago he upped and robbed the bank and left town.”
“You don’t say?”
“Ain’t been able to get anybody to take the job regular since then. Fact is, we had the same problem just afore our last sheriff came into town.”
“You made a stranger the sheriff?”
The man shrugged his beefy shoulders.
“He said he wanted the job, and nobody else did, so the mayor and the town council hired him.”
“No election?”
“Wasn’t nobody wanted to run against him.”
“You mean you can’t find anybody in this whole town who wants to be sheriff?”
“Town’s mostly made up of merchants, Mister. Ain’t a lawman among ’em.” The man leaned forward then and said, “Say, you wouldn’t be looking for a job, would you?”
“After what happened you’d still be willing to hire a stranger?”
“A town needs a sheriff, don’t it?”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Decker said. He paid for the beer and asked where he could find the mayor.
“His office is down the street, above the general store.”
“Thanks.”
“Gonna apply for the job?”
Decker ignored the question and left the saloon.
He stopped at the bank first and found the teller who’d been on duty when the bank was robbed.