“Passing through?” the bartender asked.
“Yeah. Riding along the river for a while. This is the first town of any size that I’ve come to.”
“Only one like it along the Powder River.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Got to go east or west of here to get to another town. Up north you’ve got to go where the Tongue River meets the Yellowstone. That’s about twenty—five miles west of the Powder.”
“What town is that?”
“Miles City. If you keep following the Powder until it joins the Yellowstone, you’ll be about six miles from Terry.”
“And between here and there?”
“Keep riding north and the Powder takes a bend to the east. From the point of that bend it’s about twenty miles to Ekalaka. I guess if you stick to the river, those are the three towns within reach.”
“They all have telegraph offices?”
“I’d say yes, though I don’t know for sure.”
The bartender moved down the bar to take care of another customer, and Decker thought over what he had just learned.
If the Baron was indeed holing up near the river, Decker’s guess was that he’d stay in Broadus or one of the towns the bartender had mentioned. If Decker rode directly from here to Terry, it would take him the better part of two days. If he stopped in between to go to those other towns, he’d end up with more than a week’s worth of riding to do. If the Baron was not in any of those towns, Decker would have to ride south and start checking small settlements and shantytowns like Brenner’s Fork.
Of course, he could use the telegraph lines to check those larger towns, but he’d have to find a co—operative lawman at the other end. As a rule, lawmen didn’t like bounty hunters, so he knew he couldn’t count on that.
It was worth a try, though.
“Another?” the bartender asked.
“Maybe later. What do you have in the way of gambling?”
“You might pick up a poker game here, but if you want green felt you got to go to the Dice Box. They got poker, blackjack, faro, roulette, and dice.”
“Where’s the telegraph office?”
“Out the front and two blocks to the right.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Sure.”
Decker left and headed for the telegraph office, already composing his messages in his head.
After Decker had left the sheriff’s office Kyle Roman thoughtfully poured himself another cup of coffee and drank it slowly.
He’d always wondered about Broadus’s mystery man, the man who called himself Brand. The man who had come to town and destroyed his relationship with Josephine Hale. Josephine had been immediately taken with Brand, and instead of accepting it gracefully, Roman had reacted badly. The result had been that Josephine rarely spoke to him, even to say good morning on the street. Had he reacted differently, he might have won her back during one of Brand’s absences, he knew, but it was far too late for that now.
He’d always wondered what the man did when he was away from Broadus, and he’d always wondered about the slow, precise manner in which the man spoke, as if he were trying to hide some sort of accent.
Now he knew.
Brand was the Baron.
With careful planning, that knowledge could be turned to a great advantage.
After Decker had sent his three carefully worded telegraph messages to Miles City, Terry, and Ekalaka, he decided to take a look at the Dice House. They had gambling, but was their beer as cold as the beer at the Broadus House?
Chapter Seventeen
As Sheriff Roman approached Josephine Hale’s house he saw Brand sitting on the porch. “Good afternoon, Brand,” Roman said, putting his foot on the bottom step.
“Sheriff,” Brand said, staring coldly at the man. Looking into those eyes now, Roman could see where the man could be a killer. “What can I do for you?”
“I thought we’d have a little talk.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
“What about me?”
Yes, Roman thought, now that he stopped to lis ten for it, he noticed a definite accent there. The man spoke as few words as possible, but he definitely had a slight accent.
“Well, I’ve always wondered where you went and what you did when you left Broadus, and now I think I’ve found out.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Are you interested?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m gonna tell you anyway,” Roman said, milking the moment. “You kill people.”
Brand did not react. He simply stared at Roman until the man began to fidget uncomfortably.
“Do I?”
“Oh yes, you do, for money—and you are known as the Baron.”
“Where,” Brand said, “did you get such an idea?”
“Oh, that I’m not at liberty to say. Let’s just say that there’s a man on his way here who would love for me to point my finger at you.”
“And will you?”
“Well, I might.”
Again there was a long period of silence, as if Brand was waiting for Roman to explain and Roman was waiting for Brand to ask.
Finally, it was Roman who impatiently broke the silence.
“Of course, I could be persuaded to keep my mouth shut.”
“Oh? How?”
“Well, I’m sure for as long as you’ve been, um, in business you’ve probably put away a decent amount of money—maybe even in our bank.”
Brand did not respond.
“Okay, look, I’m gonna give you some time to think this over,” Roman said, taking his foot off the step, “but don’t take too long. I might get impatient.”
Roman hesitated, waiting to see if Brand had anything to say, and when nothing was forthcoming he turned and walked away. His back itched, even though he knew Brand was not wearing a gun.
Brand watched the lawman walk away and wondered what had happened. How had the man found out who he was? Was there really someone on the way—a lawman? a bounty hunter?—who was looking for him, or was that a lie?
Or worse, was that man already here?
He thought back to that job where he had accidentally killed the boy. Surely a poster would have been issued on him as a result of that incident.
Who, he wondered, would dare try to collect the bounty on a man with his reputation?
He knew of a lot of lawmen who would track him because it was their job, but there were only a few men he could think of who would track him for money.
The most prominent of those was a man called Decker. Brand knew the man’s reputation. He even knew what kind of gun Decker wore, and he knew about the hangman’s noose he carried on his saddle.
If Decker was here, then his world in Broadus was very close to coming apart.
Brand stood up and went into the house. Entering the bedroom he shared with Josephine, he opened a closet and reached all the way in the back on the floor. He took out something bulky that was wrapped in cloth and then slowly unwrapped it. Removing the gun from the holster, he inspected it.
It would have to be cleaned.
He always cleaned his gun just before he used it.
Josephine was surprised not to find Brand waiting for her on the porch, as he usually was. She entered the house and, not seeing him in the parlor or kitchen, went upstairs to the bedroom. She found him in front of the closet and was about to say something when she saw what was in his hand.
“Are you leaving again?” she asked, suddenly frightened.
He turned, surprised by her presence. The gun in his hand automatically pointed at her, and he abruptly turned it away.
“No, no,” he said. “I’m not leaving…”
She entered the room.
“Then why do you have your gun? You don’t usually take it out unless you’re leaving.”