“Ballantine,” Frenchie said. “Meet my friend…”
“Decker.”
“Pleased to meet you, Decker. What can I do for you today?”
“I’m passing through and I need a few things.”
“Well, just name ’em.”
Decker reeled off the supplies he needed: some coffee, beef jerky, and some canned peaches.
“I got ’em all,” Ballantine said. “Just hang on a second while I find ’em. This is sure gonna be easier when I get me a regular store.”
“See what you can do for me, too, Ballantine,” Frenchie said, handing the small man a list.
Ballantine nodded and went off to take care of both of them.
“Sounds like a nice setup,” Decker said because he didn’t know what else to say.
“Where you gonna be spending the night, Decker?”
“On the trail somewhere, I guess. The ‘hotel tent’ didn’t sound very comfortable.”
Frenchie made a face and said, “It ain’t. We got a lot more room up at camp, and all the tents have potbellied stoves in ’em. You’re welcome to spend the night there if you like—and you’ll get a hot meal. We got a great cook in camp.”
Decker studied Frenchie, wondering if the man was genuinely friendly enough to extend the hospitality of his camp to a stranger. His natural cynicism made it hard for Decker to believe that, but looking into the guileless face of his new acquaintance, he was almost persuaded to change his mind. The man seemed for all the world like a big, friendly teddy bear.
“That’s real hospitable of you. Do you have that authority? I mean, to invite strangers to camp—”
“I’m not
“Is she the foreman or the owner?”
Frenchie found that real funny, and when he finished laughing he said, “She’s the owner, by God. The foreman’s Big Jeff Reno.”
“Big?”
Frenchie nodded and smiled, “Bigger’n me. If he don’t want you there, he’ll just toss you off the mountain.”
“I got your coffee, Frenchie,” Ballantine said, returning with Decker’s supplies in hand. “You want to bring your wagon around back?”
“Well,” Decker said, “I look forward to meeting him.”
In the final analysis, it was the mention of the potbellied stove that did it, the bounty hunter had to admit to himself as they left the store.
As Decker helped Frenchie load the wagon, he found the man’s strength to be incredible. The burly man easily lifted objects that most men would find impossible to move. When the wagon was loaded, Decker tied John Henry to the back of the buckboard and climbed into the seat next to Frenchie.
“What is it you do for a living, Decker?”
Decker hesitated for a moment but finally decided to answer honestly.
“I’m a bounty hunter.”
“For real?” Frenchie asked, looking at him wideeyed.
“Yep, for real.”
“That’s better than being a real lawman, ain’t it?”
“I guess—”
“I mean, real lawmen capture outlaws and don’t get to collect the bounty, right?”
“That’s right.” “Who gets it?”
“Nobody.”
“So, if you catch the outlaw, you get the bounty, right?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s a lot of money sometimes, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes.”
“Is it hard work?”
“Real hard.”
“But I’ll bet you’re good at it, ain’t you?”
“Yes,” Decker said.
“You up here hunting somebody?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Decker didn’t answer that one.
“I guess that was a stupid question, huh?”
“Not stupid…exactly.”
“Yeah, it was dumb. I’m sorry. I’m just a real curious fella.”
“And friendly.”
“Oh yeah. Some people say I’m too friendly. You think that’s possible?”
“For some people, I guess not.”
“You seem like a real friendly guy. You mean you ain’t, really?”
“Not so you’d notice,” Decker said.
“You got friends, right?”
“Some.”
“Then that makes you a friendly fella. Hell, everybody’s got friends.”
“I guess so.”
“Hey, I got an idea!” Frenchie said, suddenly excited.
“What?”
“Maybe I could help you find whoever you’re trying to catch.”
“I don’t think—”
“Is he up here somewhere?”
“All I know is that he’s somewhere in the Powder River area.”
“Lot of area to cover,” Frenchie said. “I bet you could use some help.”
“I usually work alone, Frenchie.”
“Alone, huh?”
Decker nodded, and Frenchie shrugged.
“Ah, I guess I belong up here cutting down trees.”
“I’ll bet you’re good at it.”
“Damn good.”
“Then I guess you should do what you do best, and I should do what I do best.”
Frenchie thought about that for a moment, then started laughing.
“Hell,” he said, banging Decker on the back hard enough to bruise him, “that’s damn near the nicest I ever been turned down.”
“What was the nicest?”
“Well, there was this little gal once…”
When they pulled into camp Decker immediately noticed a man he assumed was Big Jeff Reno.
“That Reno?”
