out.”
The man tried and finally managed to squeeze out his first name.
“Jerry!”
“All right, Jerry, you paid me a visit in the alley by the saloon, didn’t you?”
Yes. Blocker went back to nodding and shaking his head.
“And the sheriff was with you?”
No.
“But he sent you, didn’t he?”
Yes.
“And you brought help?”
Yes.
“One man?”
Yes.
Decker decided to let that go. The second man was very likely just a hireling, and it would be counterproductive for Decker to waste time finding him.
“You were supposed to warn me off and get me to leave town.”
Yes.
“Now I’d like you to tell me why.”
The man made strangling noises.
“I’m going to loosen the rope so you can talk, Blocker, but if I don’t like your answer I’m going to string you up. You got that?’
The man nodded vigorously.
Decker eased up on the rope and pulled. The beam moaned in protest, but held, and Blocker was suddenly yanked off his feet. It was testimony to how Decker’s slender appearance belied the strength he actually possessed.
Decker waited until the man’s face was beet-red and then released the rope so that Blocker could slump to his knees.
“That wasn’t smart, was it, Jerry?”
The man didn’t answer.
“For one thing, you almost pulled down a beam. That would have brought your own roof down around your head. You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”
No answer.
“Would you?” Decker asked, pulling up on the rope again until the man’s neck was stretched.
“No!” the man yelped.
“Okay, good. Let’s get back to the question now, Blocker. Why is everyone so eager for me to stop asking questions about Brian Foxx?”
“The sheriff,” Blocker said slowly, “my cousin. Him and Foxx are friends.”
“Is that a fact? So that means that Foxx did come through here in the past two weeks.”
“Yes.”
“And you stocked him up on supplies.”
“Yes.”
“Enough for a long trip?”
When there was no answer, Decker pulled on the rope.
“Jesus, man, I’m thinkin’, I’m thinkin’,” the man shouted. “No, I wouldn’t say he was gonna make that long a trip.”
“Then he’s staying in the Utah region?”
“That’d be my guess.”
“Would the sheriff know where?”
“You’d have to ask him, but I’d say no. Foxx is too smart to let anybody know where he’s gonna hole up.”
“I think you’re right, Blocker,” Decker said. He walked over to the kneeling man and removed the noose from around his neck. “I want to thank you for your cooperation.”
He coiled the rope as he walked for the front door. He had forced the back door in order to get in.
“Oh, and if you’re planning on running over to the sheriff after I leave, don’t bother. I’m going over there myself now.”
“He won’t be in his office,” Blocker rasped.
“Oh, no?”
“He’s got a woman in a house at the south end of town. He’ll be there.”
“Why are you telling me that, Jerry?”
The man glared at him and said, “Why should I be the only one to suffer?”
“Good point,” Decker said, believing the man. “Tell me again where this house is…”
Decker’s horse was saddled and waiting for him behind the general store. He rode to the south end of town and found the house Jerry Blocker had described to him. It was a one-story wooden structure with a falling-down wooden fence around it, and there was a light on in the back.
Decker walked around to a lighted window and looked in. Sheriff Blocker was in bed with a busty blonde, and they were so involved with each other that Decker thought they would hardly notice him even if he broke the window. He decided, however, Tomake his entry more discreetly.
He went to the kitchen door and popped the flimsy lock as quietly as possible. He entered, holding his rope in his left hand, and made his way toward the bedroom.
He paused at the door to survey the situation in the room. The sheriff was on top of the woman, humping away for all he was worth, his head held high as he strained with the effort.
Perfect.
Decker approached the bed, dangled the noose, and slid it over the sheriff’s head. He pulled it tight, yanking the sheriff’s head back even farther.
“Wha—” he said, but the rope tightening around his neck cut him off.
Decker pulled the sheet off the sheriff and wrapped the other end of the rope first around the man’s wrists, securing them behind his back, and then his ankles, almost the way a cowhand ties a calf for branding. The sheriff’s slightest move would cut off his own flow of air.
The woman, momentarily stunned, opened her mouth to scream, but Decker produced his gun and pointed it at her face, cocking it.
“Don’t,” he said.
The gun did its job, frightening her into silence. She was in her mid to late thirties, with a fleshy body that was very much in evidence now.
Talking about fleshy bodies, the sheriff was more than a few pounds overweight and resembled a full-grown cow rather than a calf, trussed up the way he was—and, Jesus, he had wiry black hair everywhere, not just on his hands.
“Just sit tight and you won’t get hurt,” Decker said to the woman.
She nodded, trying to hide her pale breasts with her hands. As an afterthought Decker picked the sheet up off the floor where he’d thrown it and tossed it to her.
“Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her.
The sheriff, meanwhile, was making an effort to speak and not having any luck.
“If you stop struggling,” Decker told him, “you’ll find that the rope is loose enough to allow you to talk.”
The lawman struggled on, but when his face began to turn red he decided to take Decker’s advice and relax, and he was able to breathe.
“You’re a dead man, Decker,” he rasped.
“Right now, Sheriff, you’re closer to being dead than I am.” Decker went around to the sheriff’s big behind, slid the barrel of his gun down along the crack in his ass, and then pushed it in just enough to startle him.
“H-Hey” the sheriff said.
