The Lawman

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.