“Okay, one at a time, step out of the stall. Hey!” he snapped at Gilberto when he took a step forward. “Ladies first, pig!”
Gilberto threw a hard look at the lawman, but stepped back.
“A gentleman,” Raquel said, “and a handsome one, too. Could we not work something out,
“You mean like a roll in this here hay?” Moran asked.
Raquel shrugged.
“That could be arranged.”
“We might be getting around to that later, lady, but right now you and your brother come with me. Come on, ugly. Your turn. Step out.”
“How did you know we were brother and sister?” Raquel asked, puzzled.
“A little bird told me. All right, let’s move. We’re going to jail.”
“A little bird named Decker?” Raquel asked.
“You’re a smart lady.”
“And you are not very smart, senor,” Raquel said. “It is Decker who is the bounty hunter.”
“Right, and he’s chasing the five of you, right?”
“Even if we are bounty hunters,” Gilberto broke in, to Raquel’s annoyance, “why are you taking us to jail?”
“Haven’t you heard? Sheriffs don’t like bounty hunters, or haven’t you been at it long enough to know that?”
“Sheriff, I assure you,” Raquel said, “Decker is the bounty hunter.”
“Well, if he is, and he’s tracking you, that means you’re wanted, so you’ll feel right at home in my jail.”
“Decker is here looking for someone else.”
“And why are you here?”
“Looking for Decker.”
“But you’re not bounty hunters.”
“That is right.”
“Hey this is making more sense by the minute, lady.” By now they had reached the sheriff’s office. “All right, inside. I wish I could offer you a choice of cells, but I only have one.”
He pushed Gilberto into it, and then said to Raquel, “If you please?”
Exasperated, Raquel stepped into the cell. Moran locked it and put the key in his desk.
“Now, if you’re real nice I’ll send you something to eat later.”
“Sheriff—” Raquel shouted, but the man had already gone.
“What is going on?” Gilberto demanded aloud.
“Decker has outsmarted us,” Raquel said. “He has told the sheriff a story, and since his story came first, the sheriff will continue to believe him.”
“Juan and the others will get us out,” Gilberto said.
“Juan and the others cannot find their pants unless we set them on fire. We will have to think of something, my brother, and fast.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
It had worked!
Decker watched from his window as Moran marched Gilberto and Raquel to jail.
With those two out of the way, his job would be a lot simpler.
Watching closely he could see that both Raquel and her brother were talking to the lawman. Obviously they were trying to tell him that he was making a mistake. Just as obviously Moran was not buying it. How could they convince the sheriff that they were not hunting Decker for a bounty? He certainly wouldn’t believe that Decker—one man alone—would be hunting for five.
When the knock came at his door Decker knew it was Moran because he had seen the man cross the street to the hotel.
When he opend the door Moran stuck his gun in his face and cocked the hammer.
“What’s going on, Sheriff?” he asked, backing into the room.
“Just being cautious, Decker. I’ll take your gun—left hand, please.”
“What do you mean, cautious?”
“Well, I only have your word that those two are bounty hunters, and they claim that you are. Either way, I don’t like bounty hunters, so I’ll just lock you up too until I can satisfy myself about who is who.”
This was not the way the plan was supposed to work, Decker thought.
“You’re going to put me in a cell with them?”
“Now, I wouldn’t do that to a fellow gringo, Decker. There’s a woodshed out behind the sheriff’s office. I’m going to lock you in there. Let’s go.”
“You’re making a mistake, Sheriff, really.”
“Sure, Decker, sure. Let’s take a walk.”
When the door closed on Decker he found himself in total darkness. Even the cell with Gilberto and Raquel might have been better than this.
It was definitely time for a new plan.
He sat down with his back against one wall of the shed and surveyed his own private cell. As his eyes began to get accustomed to the dark he could see that there was some light coming from some cracks between the wood, but by pressing with both hands he determined that whoever had build this shed had done a fine job.
It was strong enough to hold a horse.
He looked around the floor and saw a few pieces of wood, but the shed had apparently not been used for some time. The ground beneath him was damp, and he knew that his butt would get cold and numb soon enough.
He still had his matches and cigars, so he lit one up and used the match to take a better look at things. All around the floor there were small chunks of wood that he might be able to use to make a small fire. At least he’d have some light and some heat.
He gathered the pieces of wood together, but they were a little damp and would not light immediately. He checked pockets and found the poster on Moran. He couldn’t burn that, he needed it. Checking further he found an old poster in his back pocket that he didn’t need anymore.
Using the paper he started a fire, and eventually the wood pieces caught. It wouldn’t last very long and maybe he should have saved them for later, when it got dark out and cooler, but he didn’t intend to still be in that shed when it got dark.
The only question was, how to get out?
He settled down by the fire to think that one over.
His gun was gone, but he still had his gunbelt. That meant he still had his cartridges. He could pry some of them open and use the gunpowder inside. Could he blow the door that way? Probably not. Enough powder to do that would probably kill him, or at least deafen him. Besides which, he probably didn’t have enough powder to do the job.
Briefly, he considered setting one of the walls on fire, but discarded that. The entire structure would catch fire fairly quickly, and he’d be barbecued before the fire weakened one of the walls enough for him to break through.
He spent some time kicking at the door and the walls, looking for a weak point and finding none. He also thought that someone might hear the noise and let him out, but that wasn’t the case, either.
The fire flickered and he looked around for more wood chips to burn. He cleaned the floor of the shed, and was quickly left with nothing but hard-packed dirt.
