Bounty on a Baron (8 page)

Roman was seated behind his desk, drinking a cup of coffee, when Decker entered the office.

“Grab yourself a cup,” he said. “The pot’s a fresh one.”

Decker did so, then took the chair in front of the sheriff’s desk. The office was small, but it was clean and well cared for.

Sitting so close to Roman, Decker realized the lawman was younger than he was. The beard made him look older, but Decker didn’t think the man was yet thirty.

“So?” Roman said.

“I’m looking for a man,” Decker told him.

“That’s what you do,” Roman said. “What’s this par tic u lar man’s name?”

“He’s called the Baron.”

“The hired gun?”

“That’s him.”

“What makes you think he’s here?”

“I don’t know if he’s in Broadus,” Decker said. “The word I got was that he was up here around the Powder River somewhere.”

“Know what he looks like?”

“Just what it says on his paper,” Decker said. He handed the poster to Roman.

“I must have a copy of this somewhere,” the sheriff muttered, accepting the poster.

He read it, then passed it back.

“From that description he could be anyone.”

“The talk about him says he’s foreign. Comes from Russia or someplace,” Decker said. “Maybe he talks with an accent. That ring a bell?”

Roman thought a moment, then said, “No, not right off.”

“Mind if I take a turn around town?”

“How long you planning to stay?”

“How big is this town?” Decker asked. “How long does one turn take?”

“Be my guest,” Roman said. “If you find him, though, I want to know about it.”

“You will,” Decker promised, putting the coffee cup down on the desk, “just as soon as I bring him in.”

“Alive?”

Decker turned and said, “You know, you make a lousy cup of coffee.”

Decker walked around town, wondering what he was looking for. Did he expect to find a man with a Russian accent twirling a gun or shooting the eyes out of flies? In order to find out if anyone had an accent, he’d have to talk to every man in town. He wasn’t prepared to do that, not here and not in any other town he came to.

And what about other towns? Broadus was the first decent-sized town that he’d come to. Were there others farther along the river?

Decker decided to see about Broadus’s two saloons.

One was called the Broadus House, the other the Dice Box. He guessed that the difference between the two was that the Dice Box would offer more gambling. He decided to try the Broadus House first.

Going to the bar, he ordered a beer. Surprised to find it a cold one, he downed half of it while the bartender watched, an amused look on his face.

“Been a while, huh?” the man said.

“Been a long while since I had one as cold as this,” Decker admitted.

“Got our own ice house.”

Finishing the beer, Decker said, “How about another one?”

“Sure.”

The second one was cold, too, but nothing ever seems quite as cold or good as the first one. He decided to take his time with this one.

“Passing through?” the bartender asked.

“Yeah. Riding along the river for a while. This is the first town of any size that I’ve come to.”

“Only one like it along the Powder River.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Got to go east or west of here to get to another town. Up north you’ve got to go where the Tongue River meets the Yellowstone. That’s about twenty—five miles west of the Powder.”

“What town is that?”

“Miles City. If you keep following the Powder until it joins the Yellowstone, you’ll be about six miles from Terry.”

“And between here and there?”

“Keep riding north and the Powder takes a bend to the east. From the point of that bend it’s about twenty miles to Ekalaka. I guess if you stick to the river, those are the three towns within reach.”

“They all have telegraph offices?”

“I’d say yes, though I don’t know for sure.”

The bartender moved down the bar to take care of
another customer, and Decker thought over what he had just learned.

If the Baron was indeed holing up near the river, Decker’s guess was that he’d stay in Broadus or one of the towns the bartender had mentioned. If Decker rode directly from here to Terry, it would take him the better part of two days. If he stopped in between to go to those other towns, he’d end up with more than a week’s worth of riding to do. If the Baron was not in any of those towns, Decker would have to ride south and start checking small settlements and shantytowns like Brenner’s Fork.

Of course, he could use the telegraph lines to check those larger towns, but he’d have to find a co—operative lawman at the other end. As a rule, lawmen didn’t like bounty hunters, so he knew he couldn’t count on that.

It was worth a try, though.

“Another?” the bartender asked.

“Maybe later. What do you have in the way of gambling?”

“You might pick up a poker game here, but if you want green felt you got to go to the Dice Box. They got poker, blackjack, faro, roulette, and dice.”

“Where’s the telegraph office?”

“Out the front and two blocks to the right.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Sure.”

Decker left and headed for the telegraph office, already composing his messages in his head.

After Decker had left the sheriff’s office Kyle Roman thoughtfully poured himself another cup of coffee and drank it slowly.

He’d always wondered about Broadus’s mystery man, the man who called himself Brand. The man who had come to town and destroyed his relationship with Josephine Hale. Josephine had been immediately taken with Brand, and instead of accepting it gracefully, Roman had reacted badly. The result had been that Josephine rarely spoke to him, even to say good morning on the street. Had he reacted differently, he might have won her back during one of Brand’s absences, he knew, but it was far too late for that now.

He’d always wondered what the man did when he was away from Broadus, and he’d always wondered about the slow, precise manner in which the man spoke, as if he were trying to hide some sort of accent.

Now he knew.

Brand was the Baron.

With careful planning, that knowledge could be turned to a great advantage.

After Decker had sent his three carefully worded telegraph messages to Miles City, Terry, and Ekalaka, he decided to take a look at the Dice House. They had gambling, but was their beer as cold as the beer at the Broadus House?

As Sheriff Roman approached Josephine Hale’s house he saw Brand sitting on the porch. “Good afternoon, Brand,” Roman said, putting his foot on the bottom step.

“Sheriff,” Brand said, staring coldly at the man. Looking into those eyes now, Roman could see where the man could be a killer. “What can I do for you?”

“I thought we’d have a little talk.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“What about me?”

Yes, Roman thought, now that he stopped to lis ten for it, he noticed a definite accent there. The man spoke as few words as possible, but he definitely had a slight accent.

“Well, I’ve always wondered where you went and what you did when you left Broadus, and now I think I’ve found out.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Are you interested?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m gonna tell you anyway,” Roman said, milking the moment. “You kill people.”

Brand did not react. He simply stared at Roman until the man began to fidget uncomfortably.

“Do I?”

“Oh yes, you do, for money—and you are known as the Baron.”

“Where,” Brand said, “did you get such an idea?”

“Oh, that I’m not at liberty to say. Let’s just say that there’s a man on his way here who would love for me to point my finger at you.”

“And will you?”

“Well, I might.”

Again there was a long period of silence, as if Brand was waiting for Roman to explain and Roman was waiting for Brand to ask.

Finally, it was Roman who impatiently broke the silence.

“Of course, I could be persuaded to keep my mouth shut.”

“Oh? How?”

“Well, I’m sure for as long as you’ve been, um, in business you’ve probably put away a decent amount of money—maybe even in our bank.”

Brand did not respond.

“Okay, look, I’m gonna give you some time to think this over,” Roman said, taking his foot off the step, “but don’t take too long. I might get impatient.”

Roman hesitated, waiting to see if Brand had anything to say, and when nothing was forthcoming he turned and walked away. His back itched, even though he knew Brand was not wearing a gun.

Brand watched the lawman walk away and wondered what had happened. How had the man found out who he was? Was there really someone on the way—a lawman? a bounty hunter?—who was looking for him, or was that a lie?

Or worse, was that man already here?

He thought back to that job where he had accidentally killed the boy. Surely a poster would have been issued on him as a result of that incident.

Who, he wondered, would dare try to collect the bounty on a man with his reputation?

He knew of a lot of lawmen who would track him because it was their job, but there were only a few men he could think of who would track him for money.

The most prominent of those was a man called Decker. Brand knew the man’s reputation. He even knew what kind of gun Decker wore, and he knew about the hangman’s noose he carried on his saddle.

If Decker was here, then his world in Broadus was very close to coming apart.

Brand stood up and went into the house. Entering the bedroom he shared with Josephine, he opened a closet and reached all the way in the back on the floor. He took out something bulky that was wrapped in cloth and then slowly unwrapped it. Removing the gun from the holster, he inspected it.

It would have to be cleaned.

He always cleaned his gun just before he used it.

Josephine was surprised not to find Brand waiting for her on the porch, as he usually was. She entered the house and, not seeing him in the parlor or kitchen, went upstairs to the bedroom. She found him in front of the closet and was about to say something when she saw what was in his hand.

“Are you leaving again?” she asked, suddenly frightened.

He turned, surprised by her presence. The gun in his hand automatically pointed at her, and he abruptly turned it away.

“No, no,” he said. “I’m not leaving…”

She entered the room.

“Then why do you have your gun? You don’t usually take it out unless you’re leaving.”

“Jo—”

“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Is that it?”

“There
might
be a problem,” he said, “but nothing for you to worry about.”

“If it concerns you, then it’s something for me to worry about,” she said earnestly. She put her hands on his chest and said, “Brand, I never ask you what you do when you leave, but if you’re in trouble, I want to help.”

He tucked the gun into his belt and took her hands in his. “Let’s sit down,” he said, guiding her to the bed.

“Jo,” he began, “in some parts of the country I’m considered something of…of an outlaw…”

The beer at the Dice Box was not as cold as the beer at the Broadus House, but there certainly was enough gambling to satisfy a gambling man. Decker wasn’t really a gambling man, but he enjoyed a good poker game as much as anyone.

It was getting on into evening now, and another thing the Dice Box had this time of day was women. They were young, attractive, and dressed in low—cut, sequined gowns. Decker decided to stay around for a while and then go back to the Broadus House, which was more his kind of place.

He took his beer and walked around, watching some of the gambling tables, listening to the conversations. It was possible that he might hear something helpful.

At one point one of the girls came over and leaned on his shoulder.

“Can I get you something, honey?” she asked, tracing the outline of his jaw with a long, painted nail.

She was young, very pretty and had a very deep, creamy cleavage, but she was wearing so much perfume that his head hurt and his nostrils burned.

“No, thanks,” he said. “Why don’t you check with one of the players?”

“Maybe later?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he said, promising nothing.

She sashayed off and talked to some of the men
who were playing blackjack, and it looked to Decker like she was having more luck with them than she’d had with him.

He was returning to the bar for another beer when he saw Sheriff Roman walk through the batwing doors. He stood at the bar, waiting to see what the lawman was going to do. In a few seconds Roman spotted him and came over to him.

“Evening, Decker.”

“Sheriff,” the bounty hunter said. “Making your rounds?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, my rounds. Hey, Ernie, give me a beer, huh?” the sheriff said to the bartender. To Decker he said, “Interested in gambling?”

“Not really. I play a little poker now and then.”

“Some pretty women working here.”

“Sure are, but this really isn’t my kind of place.”

“Oh? What is?”

“The Broadus House. It seems a little simpler, much more my style.”

“This place usually gets most of the action.”

“That’s why I’m still here.”

“Hoping to hear something about this man you’re looking for?”

“You never know,” Decker said. “You haven’t heard anything, have you, Sheriff?”

“Me? No, not a word,” he said. “Oh, but I did hear something about you sending telegraph messages ahead to some of the other towns.”

The only way he could have heard about that was to check with the telegraph office. Why would he have done that? Decker wondered.

“What’s that all about?” Roman asked. “Trying to get the local law to do your job for you?”

“Just asking for some co-operation, is all. It could save me some time in the saddle.”

“You don’t really expect to get any help from real lawmen, do you?”

“Why not? You’ve been pretty co-operative, haven’t you?”

“Sure I have,” Roman laughed, “but I’m a helluva guy.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Does this mean you’ll be staying in Broadus a little longer?”

“At least until I get some replies.”

“I see.”

Roman finished his beer and set the empty mug down on the bar.

“Well, I’d better, uh, continue my rounds. See you around, Decker.”

“Sure, Sheriff. See you around.”

Decker watched the man walk out, wondering what he had really come in for.

When Brand finished his story, Josephine stared at him for a few moments, as if she simply couldn’t comprehend what he’d told her.

“Who is this man?” she finally asked.

“I can’t be sure,” he said. “It might be a bounty hunter named Decker.”

“This Decker, is he dangerous?”

“He’s the most dangerous bounty hunter there is,” Brand admitted.

“Is there a way to find out if it’s him?”

“There are two ways,” he said. “One, we can check the livery. If there’s a hangman’s noose with his saddle, then it’s him.”

“A hangman’s noose?”

“He carries it with him.”

“That’s horrible!” Josephine whispered, her eyes growing wider.

“I guess it’s his lucky charm.”

“Does he—does he use it?”

“Well, his bounty is usually collectable dead or alive.”

“What’s the other way to find out?”

“His gun. He wears a cut-down shotgun in a special holster. You can’t miss it.”

“I want to help,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

“All right,” Brand said, “now listen closely…”