“Sheriff Calder,” the lawman corrected him.
“You’re proud of that star, aren’t you?”
In answer, the sheriff looked at his badge and then wiped it with his sleeve.
“How long do you think you’d keep it without the Baron to back you up?”
“I don’t need anybody to back me up.”
“Then you do know the Baron.”
“What do you want with him?”
“I want to hire him to do what he does best.”
“What’s that?”
“Kill.”
Calder studied Decker intently for a few moments.
“You don’t look like you need any help doing that.”
“I can’t do this one,” Decker said. “I need someone who’s not…involved.”
“Who do you want killed?”
“I’ll tell that to the Baron.”
“Can you afford him?”
“I don’t know,” Decker said. “What’s he cost?”
Calder named a figure.
“I can cover that.”
“I’d have to check you out, Decker.”
“What’s to check out? I told you who I am and what I do.”
“How do I know you’re not looking to cash in on the Baron?”
“Has he got a price on his head?” Decker asked innocently.
When Calder didn’t answer, Decker said, “Even if he does, he can’t very well solve my problem for me if I take him in for a bounty, can he?”
“You couldn’t take him,” the sheriff said.
“You may be right, but right now I’m more concerned with hiring him.”
Again, Calder took some time before speaking.
“I’ll have to get back to you.”
“About what?”
“I’ll have to find out if he’s available.”
“How long will that take?”
The man shrugged.
“A day, maybe two. Stick around town, play some poker. You’ll hear from me.”
That sounded to Decker like a dismissal, so he stood up.
“I’ll need to see him within the next couple of weeks, Calder. I can’t wait any longer than that.”
“Like I said, give me a couple of days.”
Decker nodded and went back into the saloon.
On his way back to his room Decker heard the floorboards creak outside his room. Instantly awake, he heard the noise again.
Silently he rolled off the bed, drawing his gun from the holster on the bedpost. Then he waited.
The floorboards creaked long enough to tell him that there was more than one person in the hall. He cocked the hammer on his gun and waited.
Suddenly, the door burst open, as if kicked, and there was a man in the doorway shooting at the bed. Decker could hear the bullets as they struck the mattress. Without even thinking he started firing himself.
The figure in the doorway staggered and then fell, and Decker saw another silhouette behind him. That man fired one quick shot into the room and then turned and ran down the hall.
Decker sprang to his feet, ran around the bed, jumped over the body and burst into the hall. He could hear someone banging his way down the steps and ran after him, gun in hand. Luckily, he was cold when he went to bed and wore not only his long underwear, but his pants, as well. Unfortunately, he was barefoot and stubbed his toe just before he started down the steps. Ignoring the pain, he ran down the steps and into the lobby, where the startled desk clerk was staring at him.
“Which way did he go?” Decker demanded.
“What? What?”
He ran to the desk, grabbed the clerk’s shirt, and pulled him halfway across the desk.
“Which way did he go, damn it?”
“Out the front door,” the clerk said. Decker released him, and as he was going out the door he heard the man shouting, “What’s happening, what’s happening?”
Decker ran out into the street and looked both ways but didn’t see anyone. He stood stock-still and simply listened. Since it was so late at night the saloons were closed and there was not any music or shouting. For this reason, he heard the sound of someone running to his right. He didn’t so much hear the man running as he heard him breathing hard as he ran.
Decker moved to his right, not running but moving quickly. He was walking on the boardwalk, and since he was barefoot there was no possibility of his footsteps being heard. He was not running because he did not want to breathe heavily. Bare-chested, he was aware of a slight bite in the air.
Ahead of him he could hear the man’s boots scraping and sliding alternately on dirt and the boardwalk. Decker quickened his pace, wanting to keep the man at least within earshot.
Finally Decker reached a point where he couldn’t hear the man anymore. It was possible that he had stepped into a storefront along the way, but all of the doors seemed to be locked. Decker continued moving along, alert for any movement behind him, but when he came to an alley he felt certain that this was where the man went.
Decker flattened himself against the window and carefully peered around the corner. He listened intently for a few moments and thought he might have heard the sound of breathing—although it could have been his own.
Sliding into the alley, he wondered if it deadended or if he was wasting his time and the man was long gone. He moved cautiously, not staying to the center or to either side, but moving from side to side so as not to present an easy target.
He held his gun in his right hand, cradling the barrel with his left, all his senses alert. He was sweating, which was making his exposed flesh feel even colder than before.
As he went farther into the alley the darkness deepened but his night vision improved. Finally he could make out the end of the alley, which was indeed a dead end. There were some wooden cartons at the end, and he had to assume that the man was behind one of them.
“There are two ways out of here,” Decker said aloud. “You can throw your gun out and we can walk out together, or I can walk out alone and leave you behind—dead.”
He waited, and there was no response.
“The choice is yours,” he added.
Two things tipped him off. He heard a sharp intake of breath and the sound of a boot sliding on the ground, and then the man moved quickly out from behind a carton, gun in hand. Decker squeezed the trigger and his shot caught the man in the stomach, punching it out through his back.
He knew it was useless to hope that the man was alive to question, so he turned to go back to the hotel before he caught pneumonia.
As he rushed through the lobby the clerk again shouted, “What’s happening?” And then he called out, “Should I send for the sheriff?”
Decker didn’t reply. He thought the sheriff already knew all about this.
