Double The Bounty

“That’s none of our business, Brian!”

“It’s the business of anyone with an ounce of humanity, Brent.”

“Humanity!” Brent spat. “What did they ever do for us, huh? We never had nothing, Brian, until we started taking it for ourselves—and that was your idea. Probably the last good one you ever had.”

Decker sat back and watched the two brothers rage at each other. It was either something that was being very well staged for his benefit or it had been a very long time coming.

“And what was your last good idea, Brent?” Brian demanded. “Pistol-whipping some poor bank clerk? Killing that man in Doverville? Or the old woman—”

“She shot me first!”

“What about the doctor in Stillwell?” Decker asked.

“What about him?” Brian asked, frowning.

“Don’t listen to him, Brian.”

“What about him?” Brian asked again. “We left him tied up but unharmed. In fact, we paid him for taking care of Brent.”

“Paid him?” Decker asked. “By cutting his throat while he was tied up? That’s not a payment, Brian, that’s a payoff for a man who helped you.”

Brian looked at Brent.

“You stayed behind to talk to him,” he said. “To talk to him, you said!”

“Brian—”

“You killed him? Cut his throat while his hands were tied?”

“Brian—”

“The man saved your life!”

“So what? He would have taken it if he could have. If you weren’t there holding a gun on him.”

“No, not that man,” Brian said, shaking his head. “He saved you because he wanted to, because that’s what a doctor does.”

“Bullshit! He would have called for the sheriff as soon as we left and had a posse on our tail within the hour. We couldn’t leave him alive, Brian, don’t you see that?”

“No, Brent, I don’t see that.”

“You’re too soft,” Brent said. “You always were.”

“And you’re an animal, Brent,” Brian said, staring at his brother as if he’d never seen him before. “A sick, rabid animal.”

“And what do you do with rabid animals, brother?” Brent taunted. “You put them down. You gonna put me down…brother?”

“No, I’m, not going to do it, Brent, but some-body has to…before you kill someone else.”

“Like you?” Decker asked.

“What?”

“How long will it be before he turns on you, Brian?”

“No, he won’t,” Brian said, without conviction.

“Look at him, Brian.”

Brian Foxx continued to stare at the ground.

“Look at him!”

He looked.

“Look at his face, the look in his eyes. If you untied him now, do you know how he’d repay you? He’d kill you.”

Brian stared at Brent, who looked as if he’d start foaming at the mouth any moment. He looked away, and then walked away.

It was a very long wait for darkness.

When darkness finally fell, it was Decker who tied Brent Foxx up again.

“You’re a dead man, Decker. You hear me?”

Decker ignored him.

“You turned my brother against me. I’m going to kill you for that!”

“I didn’t turn your brother against you, Brent,”

Decker said, looking down at him. “You did that all by yourself.”

Brian and Decker took their horses as close as they dared, and then left them to go on foot. They retraced their steps back to the vantage point they’d had earlier and looked down at the camp. It was lit by three or four separate campfires. They tried to locate the two women.

“I can’t find them,” Brian Foxx said.

“They’ve pitched a tent,” Decker said, “probably for the leader. We’d better head for that.”

“You think they’re in there?”

“If they’re not, at least we’ll have him.”

“This could get us both killed, you know.”

“You want to back out?” Decker asked.

“And have to wait tied up with Brent? Not on your life.”

Decker liked it better this way, too.

At least if he died tonight, he’d have company.

First they surveyed the entire layout.

The men were spread out, but in four or five distinct groups around four separate fires. There were two wagons in the camp, one at the far end, isolated, and one right near the tent. They were most likely filled with whatever booty they had collected along the way.

“We’ve got to come in from back there,” Decker said, pointing to a place directly behind the tent.

“Why go down together?” Brian asked. “We’d have a better chance if we split up, in case one of us got caught.”

Decker looked at Brian, his face expressionless.

“I know,” Brian said, “you don’t know whether or not you can trust me. All I can tell you is that I want to get those two women out of there almost as much as you do. The rest is up to you.”

If they split up, Brian Foxx could very well ride back to his brother, untie him, and escape.

Somehow, though, Decker didn’t think so. That was probably why he’d had Brian’s gun tucked into his belt all the while. He took it out now and handed it to him.

Brian accepted it and looked at it.

“It’s loaded,” Decker assured him.

Brian nodded and put it in his holster without checking it.

“I’ll go around this way and try to get to the tent,” Decker said. “You go that way and see what they’ve got in that wagon.” He indicated the one at the far end of the camp.

“Why that one? This one is much closer.”

“If you had two wagons,” Decker said, “and one of them had explosives in it, where would you put it?”

Brian nodded, realizing what Decker meant. If the comancheros carried explosives in that second wagon, they would come in handy.

“All right, let’s move,” Decker said.

“Good luck,” Brian Foxx said, putting his hand out.

Decker took it and said, “Yeah.”

Damn, he thought. It was going to be hard turning this man in.