Bounty on a Baron

Chapter Twenty-seven

Decker was surprised when the Baron walked into the saloon, which was empty except for him and the bartender. Potts had consented to open it, once Decker told him why.

Decker was surprised not only that the Baron walked boldly into the saloon, but also by the fact that he was unarmed.

The Baron—who, he now knew, was called Brand in Broadus, and, hell, maybe that was even his real name—walked right up to Decker’s table.

“Decker?” he asked, his voice devoid of all emotion.

“That’s right.”

“I am Brand—or, as you know me, the Baron.”

“Have a seat.”

“You see that I am unarmed.”

“I noticed.”

Brand sat directly across from the bounty hunter.

“You realize what that means?”

“You’re here to talk.”

“Yes, but lest you think you can hold me because I am unarmed—”

“You’d make me kill you.”

“Exactly. You would have to be willing to shoot down an unarmed man in front of a witness,” he said, inclining his head toward Potts, who was still behind the bar.

“You want me to leave?” Potts asked Decker.

“No need,” Decker said. “All right, Brand, let’s talk.”

“I will not go back with you,” Brand said quickly, “not alive.”

“That doesn’t leave a whole hell of a lot for me to say, does it?”

“I am asking you to leave Broadus and forget about me. I do not want to kill you.”

“Nor I you, but there doesn’t seem to be any other way—unless you want to change your mind and come with me willingly.”

“I cannot do that. I would be submitting myself to a hangman’s noose.”

Decker knew what that was like and unconsciously touched his own neck where a noose had once rested.

Brand seemed to notice the move and narrowed his eyes as an idea struck him.

“That’s why you carry that noose with you, isn’t it?” he said suddenly. “You’ve had it around your neck, haven’t you? Maybe you’ve even had that one around your neck.”

Decker was surprised at the man’s perception and was thrown off balance by it.

“I don’t think we’re here to discuss my past,” he said lamely.

“Still, if that is your past, how can you justify bringing men in and subjecting them to the same—”

“I don’t have to justify myself to anyone,” Decker stated forcefully, “least of all to you.”

Their eyes met, and for a few seconds, neither man said anything.

“Are you prepared to come with me willingly?” Decker finally asked, breaking the silence.

“No.”

“Then you’d better get up and leave while you can. I’ll be coming for you today—unless you run.”

The man called the Baron laughed then.

“Do you think I’m afraid of you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Decker said, “just as I am afraid of you. You’d be a fool not to be.”

“Josephine was right about you,” he said and rose. Decker did not ask him to explain the remark.

The bounty hunter watched the Baron leave the saloon, wondering if he shouldn’t have tried to hold him while he had him. He might have been able to do it without killing him if he had played his cards just right.

Or maybe he wanted to kill him. Maybe what Brand had been saying about the noose and all was too close to being right on the money.

“You just let him walk out!” Potts said in amazement. “What if he runs?”

“He won’t run.” Decker looked at Potts and said, “Too early for a drink?”

“For me to serve or for you to drink?” Potts asked, but he poured it without waiting for an answer and took it to Decker’s table.

When Brand got back to the house Josephine was not there. He assumed that she had gone back to the store. That was just as well, he thought. There was no point in trying to talk to her now. Might as well wait for this thing to be over before trying to patch things up with her.

He went up to the bedroom and pulled out his gun again. He had put it back after Josephine caught him with it. Now he pulled the big Colt .44 from his holster and began to clean it.

Decker sat in the saloon and worked on his drink. It was all over now but the shooting, and the when and where of that seemed to be up to him—that is, unless Brand chose to hole up in that house. Then Decker would have to go in and get him. Somehow, though, he didn’t think that would be the Baron’s style. If he died, he’d want to die on his feet, in the street, and if he killed Decker, he’d want it to be face to face.

As would Decker.