Double The Bounty

by Robert J. Randisi

  “The sheriff,” Blocker said slowly, “my cousin. Him and Foxx are friends.”

  “Is that a fact? So that means that Foxx did come through here in the past two weeks.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you stocked him up on supplies.”

  “Yes.”

  “Enough for a long trip?”

  When there was no answer, Decker pulled on the rope.

  “Jesus, man, I’m thinkin’, I’m thinkin’,” the man shouted. “No, I wouldn’t say he was gonna make that long a trip.”

  “Then he’s staying in the Utah region?”

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “Would the sheriff know where?”

  “You’d have to ask him, but I’d say no. Foxx is too smart to let anybody know where he’s gonna hole up.”

  “I think you’re right, Blocker,” Decker said. He walked over to the kneeling man and removed the noose from around his neck. “I want to thank you for your cooperation.”

  He coiled the rope as he walked for the front door. He had forced the back door in order to get in.

  “Oh, and if you’re planning on running over to the sheriff after I leave, don’t bother. I’m going over there myself now.”

  “He won’t be in his office,” Blocker rasped.

  “Oh, no?”

  “He’s got a woman in a house at the south end of town. He’ll be there.”

  “Why are you telling me that, Jerry?”

  The man glared at him and said, “Why should I be the only one to suffer?”

  “Good point,” Decker said, believing the man. “Tell me again where this house is…”

  Decker’s horse was saddled and waiting for him behind the general store. He rode to the south end of town and found the house Jerry Blocker had described to him. It was a one-story wooden structure with a falling-down wooden fence around it, and there was a light on in the back.

  Decker walked around to a lighted window and looked in. Sheriff Blocker was in bed with a busty blonde, and they were so involved with each other that Decker thought they would hardly notice him even if he broke the window. He decided, however, Tomake his entry more discreetly.

  He went to the kitchen door and popped the flimsy lock as quietly as possible. He entered, holding his rope in his left hand, and made his way toward the bedroom.

  He paused at the door to survey the situation in the room. The sheriff was on top of the woman, humping away for all he was worth, his head held high as he strained with the effort.

  Perfect.

  Decker approached the bed, dangled the noose, and slid it over the sheriff’s head. He pulled it tight, yanking the sheriff’s head back even farther.

  “Wha—” he said, but the rope tightening around his neck cut him off.

  Decker pulled the sheet off the sheriff and wrapped the other end of the rope first around the man’s wrists, securing them behind his back, and then his ankles, almost the way a cowhand ties a calf for branding. The sheriff’s slightest move would cut off his own flow of air.

  The woman, momentarily stunned, opened her mouth to scream, but Decker produced his gun and pointed it at her face, cocking it.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  The gun did its job, frightening her into silence. She was in her mid to late thirties, with a fleshy body that was very much in evidence now.

  Talking about fleshy bodies, the sheriff was more than a few pounds overweight and resembled a full-grown cow rather than a calf, trussed up the way he was—and, Jesus, he had wiry black hair everywhere, not just on his hands.

  “Just sit tight and you won’t get hurt,” Decker said to the woman.

  She nodded, trying to hide her pale breasts with her hands. As an afterthought Decker picked the sheet up off the floor where he’d thrown it and tossed it to her.

  “Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her.

  The sheriff, meanwhile, was making an effort to speak and not having any luck.

  “If you stop struggling,” Decker told him, “you’ll find that the rope is loose enough to allow you to talk.”

  The lawman struggled on, but when his face began to turn red he decided to take Decker’s advice and relax, and he was able to breathe.

  “You’re a dead man, Decker,” he rasped.

  “Right now, Sheriff, you’re closer to being dead than I am.” Decker went around to the sheriff’s big behind, slid the barrel of his gun down along the crack in his ass, and then pushed it in just enough to startle him.

  “H-Hey” the sheriff said.

  “I’m going to ask you some questions, Sheriff, and if I don’t like the answers, I’m going to pull the trigger. You’ll have the biggest asshole in the Utah region.”

  Decker cocked the hammer on the gun, and the sheriff’s entire body tensed.

  “Hey, wait—”

  “Question number one—do you know Brian Foxx?”

  “Yes, yes, I know Brian Foxx. Look, Decker, take it easy—”

  “Question number two—did he go through town in the past two weeks?”

  “All right, yes, yes, he did. I had my cousin give him some supplies.”

  “The same cousin you had work on me earlier today?”

  “Yeah—but, hey, that wasn’t nothing personal, Decker, believe me—”

  “Oh, I believe you, Sheriff, I really do. Now, here comes the third and most important question—do you know where Foxx was going?”

  “No, h-honest, I don’t. I only know that he was going to hole up in the region somewhere.”

  “Is that the truth?” Decker asked, applying pressure to the gun.

  “Yes, Jesus, yes, Decker, it’s the truth!”

  Decker believed him.

  He eased the hammer down on the gun and removed it. The rope he had used on the sheriff was not his best one, so he decided to leave it.

  He holstered his gun and said to the woman, “What’s your name?”

  “G-Gloria.”

  “Gloria, after I’m gone you can untie your boyfriend, but I want you to count to fifty first, okay?”

  “Y-Yes.”

  “And you won’t let him talk you into untying him sooner? I can trust you?”

  “Y-Yes, yes.”

  Decker slapped the sheriff on his hairy rump hard enough to leave an imprint of his hand, and then leaned over to speak into the man’s ear.

  “Now, Sheriff, I know this must have been very embarrassing for you, but I want you to remember something. If I hear that you’ve put out any paper on me, I’m going to come back and finish what I started. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, all right,” the lawman said, “but believe me, Decker, you won’t be around long enough for me to put a poster out on you. Foxx will see to that. If I knew where he was, I’d tell you just so he could kill you.”

  “Well, I appreciate that, Sheriff, I really do.” Decker turned to the woman and said, “Gloria, you take good care of our boy, all right?”

  “Y-Yes, I w-will.”

  “Good night.”

  Decker walked through the house, out the kitchen door, and mounted up. He didn’t expect the woman to be able to count all the way to fifty In fact, he could already hear the sheriff shouting at her. Still, he didn’t think the sheriff would come after him. He would leave things to Brian Foxx.

  And that was just fine with Decker.

  Chapter XIII

  Brian and Brent Foxx were sitting across from each other in the saloon in Fenner’s Fork. They had been sitting like that for some time now, and the bartender, Sam, was leaning on the bar, watching them both with interest.

  “What are we gonna do, sit here forever?” Brent asked Brian.

  “We can’t agree on a course of action, Brent,” Brian said. “That means we can’t take a course of action, can we?”

  “Sure we can.”

  “What?”

  “I passed a town on the way here that’s got a bank that’s ripe. One of us could go back and pull the robbery off e
asy.”

  “It’s too soon, Brent,” Brian said, shaking his head. “It’s not safe.”

  “When has anything we’ve ever done been safe?” Brent said. “I don’t agree.”

  “And that’s why we’re sitting here staring at each other, isn’t it?” Brian asked. “Because we can’t agree.”

  “I don’t want to leave this area, Brian,” Brent said stubbornly.

  “And I do,” Brian said. “I know it’s the right move Tomake, Brent, and we’re gonna stay in this town until I can convince you of that.”

  “In that case,” Brent said, waving to Sam, “I need another drink.”

  Brent got up to get the drink and Brian watched his brother’s retreating back. He could feel the split coming, and he didn’t want it to happen. If they separated, he knew that Brent would make a mistake and get caught or be killed.

  He couldn’t let that happen—but how was he going to stop it?

  Chapter XIV

  Decker knew a little about the Utah region, especially the fact that it was short on water. He usually carried an extra canteen, and while he was in Utah it would come in even more handy than usual.

  He knew that the early settlers of Utah were the Mormons, and that they had emigrated from New York by way of Missouri, Ohio, and Illinois. They were not welcomed in those places because of the peculiarities of their religion—not the least of which was the fact that men were allowed more than one wife—and for that reason they had decided to try and settle in Utah.

  He knew that when the Mormons first came to Utah it had been owned by Mexico, but that it had since passed into the hands of the United States. Statehood, however, had been denied it, again because of the religious beliefs of its prime inhabitants. Salt Lake City had been the headquarters of the Mormons since 1847, but Decker did not fore-see getting to that part of the region.

  Indian problems—mostly with the Utes—had been solved as early as 1857, and the Utes were presently on a reservation.

  Utah was peaceful now, but animosity still existed between the Mormons and the outside world, which would prevent Utah from becoming a state of the Union for years to come.

  Two days after leaving the town of South Bend, Decker was certain that the sheriff had not gathered a posse and was not on his trail.

  Seven days out of the town he suddenly became aware that somebody was on his trail, but whether or not the person was from South Bend was another story.

  Ten days and he was still being trailed, although whoever it was had not chosen to close the distance between them.

  Decker decided it was time to find out who was following him.

  That night, instead of camping, Decker started a fire, then moved into the darkness and mounted John Henry. He started to backtrack, testing the air for signs of a campfire. Finally he caught the scent of coffee and followed it. When he felt he was getting nearer the fire, he dismounted and left John Henry standing alone, untethered. He knew the old gelding was not going anywhere, and he wanted the horse to be able to respond to a whistle.

  He crept closer to the campfire and saw some-body hunkered down by the fire, his back to him. Off to the right a horse was picketed, a big gray mare. Decker moved into the circle of light quietly and, approaching the figure, discovered how small the person was. He left his gun in his holster and decided to just use his hands.

  He grabbed the man around the chest and straightened up, lifting him up off his feet.

  “All right, friend, let’s have a talk.”

  The man kicked and struggled and then said, “You ain’t lettin’ me breathe, damn it!”

  Startled, Decker opened his arms and let his captive drop to the ground. The voice had not been a man’s but a woman’s—or more to the point, a girl’s.

  Felicia Wheeler.

  “Damn you, Decker,” she swore, getting to her feet, “you trying to kill me?”

  “You little whipper!” he said, staring at her. “What the hell are you doing dogging my trail—and if you swear again I’ll cuff you.”

  “You—” she said, and cut herself off.

  “Come on, explain yourself.”

  “I want to be there when you find Brian Foxx.”

  “Why?”

  “Two reasons. I told you I’m interested in people like him—and you. I want to see who comes out on top.”

  “And the second reason?”

  “When it happens, I want to write about it.”

  “Write about it?”

  “But not for my grandfather’s paper. Nobody would see it. I want to write about it and send it to someplace big—someplace like Denver, or San Francisco…or maybe even New York.”

  “And you’ve been following me all this time?”

  “I followed your trail to South Bend, and then trailed you from there for a few days until I spotted you and laid back. You ain’t found nothing yet, have you?”

  “No—except you, and you’re going home.”

  “I am not!”

  “What about your grandfather?”

  “Grandpa can eat out for a while. All he lets me do is cook and clean.”

  “Isn’t that what a woman is supposed to do?”

  “Well, at least you admit I’m a woman!”

  “Half a woman, anyway”

  “I’m fourteen!”

  “Like I said, half a woman. All right, come on.”

  “Where?”

  “Gather up your stuff. We’ll go Tomy camp and spend the night there. In the morning you’ll start back.”

  “I ain’t.”

  “You will or you’ll wish you had.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll run your ass off trying to keep up with me.”

  “I can travel as fast as you can.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, let’s collect your gear, junior. You just might get a chance to prove that.”

  When they got back to his fire, they reheated her coffee and each had a cup.

  “What are you gonna do when you find Foxx?”

  “Take him in.”

  “Where?”

  “Wherever we’re closest to where he’s wanted.”

  “Did you think any about what I said back in town when you left?”

  He knew what she meant, and he really hadn’t thought about it that much.

  “Two men, Decker. Think about it. How else could they pull jobs in different places at the same time?”

  “But they’d have to look the same.”

  “You never heard of twins?”

  “Twins!” He shook his head. “That’s farfetched, Felicia. You been reading too many dime novels.”

  “Then you explain it.”

  “It might be two men, one made up to look like Brian Foxx.”

  “Made up?”

  “Like an actor.”

  “But how would they be identical? Wouldn’t somebody notice something different?”

  “Maybe they’re not identical. All we have are some physical descriptions to go on. Lots of people can sound identical that way.”

  “Why don’t you want to admit that I might be right?”

  He frowned, not liking the idea that she might be right. Twins! It sounded silly.

  “You’d better get some rest, youngster,” he said, instead of answering. “I’m gonna run your tail off tomorrow.”

  She grinned and said, “You’ll try, but don’t forget, I tracked you this far.”

  As she rolled up in her blanket, he admitted to himself that he was pretty damned impressed with this fourteen-year-old—and a girl, at that!

  Chapter XV

  Decker upped his pace the next day to try and tire out Felicia and the mare she called Nellie.

  When they mounted up that morning, Felicia cast a critical eye John Henry’s way

  “He must have been a fine horse in his time,” she said.

  “He’s a fine horse anytime.”

  “He’s a little old, don’t you think?
What is he, about eleven? Twelve?”

  “He’s nine.”

  “And he’s a little small.”

  “He’s big enough.”

  “I don’t think he’ll be able to keep up with Nellie.”

  Decker mounted up and said to her, “Shut up and ride.”

  Felicia was a surprise to Decker. She was able to keep up most of the way and never complained about the pace.

  When they camped for dinner, Felicia volunteered Tomake it if Decker would build the fire. They went about their chores and eventually were seated around the fire, eating bacon, beans, and biscuits with coffee.

  During the meal Felicia tossed an admiring look John Henry’s way.

  “I’m sorry about what I said about John Henry this morning.”

  “He doesn’t mind,” Decker assured her. “He enjoys proving people wrong.”

  “Doesn’t he ever get tired?”

  “He could probably go all day if I’d let him, but I let him rest a spell every now and then. Nellie’s not too bad, either,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “She keeps up with him better than most.”

  “My pa gave her Tome when I was ten. She was just two then. I guess she’s no youngster either, huh? She’s six.”

  “She’ll last you a long time, don’t you worry. Just remember to treat her right.”

  “Do you treat John Henry right? I’ve never seen you pet him or anything.”

  “He doesn’t need petting. We both know our jobs and we do’em. He knows I’ll feed him and rest him and make sure he’s taken care of, and he takes care of me in return.”

  “Nellie needs a lot of affection.”

  “Like most women.”

  “Have you known a lot of women?”

  He stopped chewing for a moment and said, “Some.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve known a lot.”

  “You better finish your dinner.”

  “Am I embarrassing you?”

  “No, damn it, I just want to finish eating.”

  After a few moments of silence, she asked, “Do you think I’m pretty? I mean, back in town you said I was pretty enough, but do you really think I’m pretty?”

  “You’re pretty, Felicia, pretty enough to know it yourself. Don’t go fishing for compliments. It isn’t polite.”