Broadway Bounty

Chapter Six

“Am I entitled to have my curiosity satisfied?” she asked over dinner.

She had suggested a small all-night restaurant a few blocks from the hospital. Decker felt naked during the walk, since he was armed only with Dover’s newly honed lucky piece. Still, she apparently made the walk herself several evenings a week. Under the circumstances he felt he could afford to take the walk once. Besides, she was there to protect him.

When they entered the restaurant, which was hardly more than a hole in the wall, the waitress greeted her warmly and by name. She was about Linda’s age, but the similarity ended there. The waitress wasn’t anywhere near as attractive as Linda Hamilton.

“Well?”

“Well what?” he asked.

“My curiosity?”

“You mean, now that you’re off duty?”

She smiled and said, “Yes, now that I’m off duty.”

“Ask.”

“First, who shot you?”

“Big ugly fella named Clyde.”

She frowned and said, “Why?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Did you ask him?”

“I did.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said the time for having fun was over.”

“You don’t know very much about why you were shot, do you?”

“No.”

“That must be very frustrating.”

“It is.”

“What about the other times?”

“What other times?”

“The other times you were shot?”

“Oh, those other times. I generally knew why it was happening.”

“Why?”

“Because somebody was trying to kill me.”

“I saw two bullet-wound scars and a knife scar on your torso.”

“Oh, you didn’t see my back,” he said. “There’s another bullet and a knife scar there, and if you want to talk about my legs—”

“I don’t think I do,” she said.

“Sorry.”

The waitress came with the eggs and bacon they had ordered because of the late—and early—hour.

“Is life that violent out west for everyone?”

“Only if you go looking for it.”

“And you do?”

“I couldn’t be in my business if I didn’t.”

“And what business is that?”

He hesitated a moment, wondering why he’d led the conversation around to this. Then he told her.

“I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Really?” she asked. “That sounds very interesting.”

It took him a moment to figure out that she didn’t believe him. He wasn’t all that sure he wanted to convince her.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“Like tonight?”

He decided it was time to grimace a little.

“Your shoulder hurt?” she asked. Her concern was so genuine he felt guilty about faking the grimace. “Maybe we should have had the doctor look at it.”

“No, no, it’s fine really,” he said. “Tell me about you. How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” she said. “Why did you ask that?”

“I wanted to see if you’d answer honestly.”

“What makes you think I did?”

“I figured you for twenty-four.”

“I’m flattered.”

They finished eating and left the restaurant. Decker paid.

In front he said, “Can I see you home?”

“I appreciate the meal, Mr. Decker, and the company—and having my curiosity satisfied, sort of—but I don’t think we know each other that well yet.”

He was pleased that she had used yet.

“Well, if my shoulder starts to act up, where can I find you?”

She smiled and said, “At the hospital.”

“Be careful going home, then.”

“That sounds like better advice for you than me,” she said.

“I intend to follow it.”

“Good night, Mr. Decker.”

“Not Mr. Decker,” he said. “Just Decker.”

She started to walk away. Then she turned and said, “Tell me something, Just Decker.”

“What?”

“Are you really a bounty hunter?”

“Yep.”

She regarded him for a moment. Then she said, “Interesting,” and walked off down the street.

As he watched her walk away, Decker said, “Interesting,” too. Then he started back to his hotel.