by Neil Hunter
“You can thank Mr. Bodie here, too,” Angela said. “If it hadn’t been for him I don’t think I would have made it.”
“Then you have my gratitude, Mr. Bodie,” the man said. He thrust out a strong hand, shaking Bodie’s vigorously.
“This is Len Treval,” Angela said. “He runs the mine. He was with my father right from the beginning. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“Take no notice, Mr. Bodie. I do my job that’s all.”
Angela smiled. “You do more than that, Len, and you know it.”
“You always been a miner, Mr. Treval?” Bodie asked, while his gaze wandered back and forth across the compound, picking up details here and there.
“Aye, lad, and my father and grandfather before me.” Treval smiled wistfully. “Though they did their mining back in the old country. In the Cornish tin mines.”
“What brought you to America?”
Treval laughed. “I didn’t like the troubles, lad. Bad conditions. Worse than bad employers. So I took myself to this wild country, looking for whatever it is men expect to find in a new land.”
“Did you find it?”
“I was lucky. I found work with Mr. Crown, and no man could have asked for a better employer or friend.” Treval gazed around him, bitterness edging histone. “But now ... !”
“Has Randall been giving you trouble?” Bodie asked brusquely.
Treval glanced at Angela, who nodded to him. “If there’s anything to tell, Len, I want Mr. Bodie to hear.”
“Aye, we’ve had one or two incidents. One of the lads got himself knocked about by a couple of Randall’s men the other night. The word was put to him that it could happen again if he didn’t throw up his job and leave town. And there have been some minor accidents. Deliberately caused, we’ve found out. This morning we found a couple of sticks of explosives at the entrance to the mine. There was a note wrapped around the fuse. It said: This fuse could have been lit.”
“Oh, Len, I didn’t realize. Ray didn’t say a thing about them.”
Treval’s face stiffened and he averted his gaze from Angela. “At the time I told him, he didn’t appear to be too concerned, Miss Angela. I’m sorry to have to say it, but it’s the truth.”
“I’m sorry, Len.”
He touched her arm. “It isn’t your fault, girl.”
“Have you done anything about keeping the compound secure?” Bodie asked.
“The gates are locked at night, man! What the hell else can we do?” Treval snapped.
“I’m talking about a couple of armed guards,” Bodie said. He gestured across the compound. “ A blind man with a broken leg could get over that damn fence.”
“Aye, man, I dare say,” Treval replied. “But we’re miners, not gunmen. And do you expect my lads to spend the night walking round with rifles under their arms after a full day digging in the dirt?”
Angela stepped between the two men, her eyes blazing with anger. “Now just stop it, the pair of you! We’re all supposed to be on the same side.”
Bodie tipped his hat to the back of his head. “Mr. Treval, you’re right.”
“Hell, man, so are you. This place needs watching at night. Can you do something for us?”
“You want me to?” Bodie asked Angela.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I don’t want any of the men hurt, so if a couple of armed guards will prevent that then find some.”
Bodie wandered off across the compound, leaving Angela to talk to Treval. He made a few mental notes concerning the need to keep watch on certain sections of the compound, and he was still sizing the place up when Angela joined him.
“I think Len kind of took to you,” she told him.
Bodie glanced at her, a wry smile edging his mouth. “That just about makes my day worthwhile,” he said.
She scowled at him. “What an awful man you are,” she said.
“They do say so.”
Leading their horses across the compound they walked out through the gates. Angela was about to mount up when she turned abruptly, touching Bodie’s arm, indicating a black buckboard coming down the trail in their direction. A pair of riders followed closely behind the buckboard, which had only one occupant.
“Jonas Randall!” Angela said, her voice trembling with anger.
Bodie watched the approaching buckboard. The man handling the reins took notice as he spotted Angela, and turned the buckboard towards her and Bodie. He eased it to a halt a few yards away, sliding across the leather seat so that he could lean out a little.
“Did you have a good trip, Angela?” he asked. His tone was pleasant, almost cordial. In fact his whole appearance seemed to belie everything Bodie had heard about him. Jonas Randall was a tall man, broad-shouldered, his body firm-muscled beneath the expensive dark suit. He wore a spotless white shirt and a dark string tie. His gleaming boots were handmade, the rich leather beautifully embossed. Beneath the brim of his hat his handsome face creased into a smile of welcome. “If only I’d known you were going to Ridgelow, Angela, my dear, I would have seen to it that you travelled in style.”
“How?” Angela asked coldly. “In a hearse?”
“Do you know, that’s what I’ve missed over the last few days. Your sparkling, though sometimes acid, wit. High Grade has been a sadder place since your departure.”
“Well, I’m back now, Randall, so be prepared for some surprises,” Angela said.
Randall fell silent for a moment or two. He stroked the side of his jaw thoughtfully. “I really do think Angela, that the time has come for you to put a stop to this hopeless resistance. Be honest with yourself. You cannot go on indefinitely. Sooner or later you are going to have to give in and meet me on my terms.”
Angela shook her head slowly. “That’s where you make your mistake, Randall. You’ve played God so many times you think everyone believes it the way you do. Well, I’m afraid it doesn’t work on me. All I see is a cheap crook who doesn’t care how low he has to go to get what he wants. Do what you will, Randall. But this mine is not for sale. Not now. Not ever!”
Jonas Randall sighed wearily. “I’m sorry to hear you say that, my dear. Because I shall hate having to hurt you if you happen to get in my way.”
Bodie, who had been quietly standing in the background, eased forward so that he was standing beside Angela. He waited until Randall’s attention was attracted.
“Randall, you’ve just said the one thing I hoped you would say. Mister, I think I’m going to enjoy putting you down.” Bodie glanced in the direction of the two riders at the rear of the buckboard. “And tell those two tramps to back off! If either of them even thinks about his gun I’m going to blow his head off!”
Randall studied the tall, hard-eyed man, and knew instinctively that he was dealing with the best. This was no run of the mill gunslinger.
“So you’re Bodie. Under better circumstances I could have used a man like you.”
“No way, Randall. You couldn’t afford me,” Bodie said. “I’ve already seen the kind of trash you hire. They say a man gets what he deserves. From what I’ve seen, mister, you got a bonus.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bodie,” Randall said, too quickly.
“Stupid of me,” Bodie replied. “You don’t know a damn thing about Billy-Jack Struthers and Pike Cooly attacking Miss Crown while she was in Ridgelow?”
“Who?” Randall asked.
“What about Yancy Cree? Or Floyd Brown? Sam Tucker? None of them work for you?”
“Bodie, I employ a lot of men. I can’t be expected to know every single one of them. Come to that, I don’t hire very many myself. I leave that to other people.”
“Like Deeks, you mean?” Bodie grinned. “Inclined to run off at the mouth, that feller. Hard-headed, too.”
“Are you trying to imply something, Bodie?” Randall asked hotly.
“Hell, no,” Bodie said. “I’m not implying a damn thing. Mister, I’m just telling you! So you listen for
a change, Randall. The lady said it. The mine ain’t for sale! So like the signs say, mister, stay away, this is private property!”
Jonas Randall’s face darkened, his mouth forming in to a thin, bloodless line. He moved back across the seat of the buckboard and took up the reins. With infinite caution he set the team into motion and took the buckboard back on to the trail leading down to High Grade. His two riders fell in at the rear, casting cold glances at Bodie as they rode by.
“My, Bodie, I thought he was going to have a heart attack,” Angela said. She gave a little laugh. “Don’t you realize that people just do not speak to Jonas Randall in that way?”
“What I don’t know, I don’t worry about,” Bodie explained. “And even when I do, I still don’t worry about it. Now let’s get back to town. I’ve got me some hiring to do.”
On the edge of town they parted company. Angela returned to the house, telling Bodie that she would have a meal ready in an hour or so. He took his horse on into High Grade, seeking out the best saloon in town. He spent some time moving from place to place until he found the one he wanted. Buying himself a drink he took it to an empty table and sat down, his back to the wall, and watched the busy throng of customers.
Bodie had been sat there for almost a half-hour before he spotted the man he was looking for. He watched the tall, lean, dark-haired man enter the saloon and cross hesitantly to the bar. The man was dressed in range clothes, with a gun hanging on his left hip. He paused at the bar to check his money before ordering a beer. With the foaming glass in his hand he turned from the bar, his eyes searching the crowded saloon for an empty seat. When the man’s eyes reached Bodie’s table he hesitated. That was when Bodie lifted a hand, gesturing toward one of the vacant chairs. The man held back for a minute, naturally cautious. Then he threaded his way through the busy tables. Bodie pushed out the seat and the man eased into it, placing his glass of beer on the table. He thumbed back his stained, battered hat, revealing a brown, lean face. His dark eyes were hooded, lending him a sleepy look, which didn’t fool Bodie at all.
“Obliged for the seat,” he said. His voice revealed a slow Texan drawl.
“You’re a long way from home,” he said.
The man grinned suddenly. “One thing about bein’ from Texas,” he said. “You take her with you wherever you go.”
“You brought a herd up?”
“Yeah. Hell, these damn miners like their beef.”
“Heading back home?”
The man shrugged. “Home’s where I happen to be at the time.”
“So you’re just loose at the moment?”
“Look, friend, I don’t mind a little talk, but you’re gettin’ downright pushy.”
“I got a reason,” Bodie said, realizing it was time he made his play.
“Then tell it.”
“I’m looking for a couple of good men. There’s a job going. Good money.”
The man across the table paused, his glass of beer in mid-air. “Depends on the kind of job,” he said. “I ain’t so hard up I need to go an’ rob a bank!”
“This is on the level. For one of the big mines.”
“Which one?”
“The Crown mine.”
“Ain’t that the one been having a little trouble?”
Bodie nodded. “That’s my job. To help sort the trouble out. But there’s a chance of something happening at night. I need a couple of good men who can patrol the mine compound and deal with anything that crops up!”
“Sounds like it could be fun.”
“You interested?”
The man emptied his glass. “I guess so.” He held out a brown hand. “I’m Hal Benteen.”
“Bodie.”
Benteen eyed the manhunter for a long moment. “Heard of a Bodie. Some kind of bounty hunter. You the same feller?”
“Maybe there are two of us going round with the same name!”
“Hell, I hope not,” Benteen grinned. “Damn, though, it’s a hell of a way to earn a living!”
“You think so? Comin’ from a feller who spends most of his time eating dust and looking up a cow’s ass, that’s funny!”
“I guess you could be right at that,” Benteen said. “You say you want a couple of fellers?”
“Two at least,” Bodie said. “You know somebody?”
“Yeah. Feller who was on the drive. Got to know him pretty well. Handles himself just fine. And the gun he wears ain’t no decoration.”
“Can you find him?”
Benteen nodded. “Sure. He’s around town somewhere. I’ll dig him out. He’ll be bedded down with some female somewhere.”
“All right, Benteen. Meet me up at the Crown house in an hour. It’s the white house with red gables. Up the hill.”
Benteen got up and left. Finishing his drink Bodie got up and made his way out of the saloon. As he reached the door he noticed that he was being watched from the balcony running around the upper floor. A blonde-haired young woman was studying him closely. Just behind the woman were two male figures. Bodie couldn’t see them too clearly because they were standing back from the balcony rail, in the shadows of the passageway. Bodie wondered briefly who the woman was, and about the identity of the two men. Then he was outside, freeing his horse and mounting up for the ride to the Crown house.
Angela had a meal ready for him. They sat at the table in the neat kitchen, eating quietly, and neither of them spoke until Angela had poured out cups of coffee.
“Did you find any help?” she asked.
Bodie nodded. “Got a couple of men coming here in a while. I think they’ll do.”
“Whatever you say, Bodie.”
He glanced at her, noting the flat, expressionless tone in her voice. “You got something on your mind?”
“Yes. I’m worried about Raymond.” Angela put down her cup. “Bodie. I just can’t help it, but I’m sure there’s something wrong. Something Raymond is involved in. I’m sure of it. The trouble is the more I think about it, the less I actually want to know. Bodie, I’m scared.”
“I think you need some rest.” Bodie said. “After the trip and everything that happened, you need plenty of sleep.”
Angela got up. She came round to where he sat, slipping her arms round his shoulders. “Will you stay with me, Bodie? I think I’m going to need you!”
Bodie heard horses in the yard. He got up and crossed to the window. Hal Benteen was just tethering his horse. He had another man with him. Bodie opened the kitchen door and stepped outside.
“Bodie.”
“Benteen.” Bodie indicated the second man. “This the feller you told me about?”
“Yeah,” Benteen nodded. “Will Jordan.”
Jordan, a slight, pale-haired man with frosty blue eyes, nodded briefly.
“Will here ain’t much for talkin’,” Benteen said. “But he’ll be there come the day.”
“You told him what the job is?” Bodie asked.
“Yeah, an’ he’s interested.” Benteen scratched his jaw. “That herd we brung in…well, she weren’t big and the money wasn’t much ...”
Bodie recalled the way Benteen had counted his cash in the saloon before buying his drink. “The pay on this job is good,” he stressed. “If things start to happen you’ll probably have to fight for every damn dollar.”
“You want us to start tonight?” Benteen asked.
Bodie nodded. “I’ll fetch my horse and take you up to the mine. Show you round.”
Shortly they were riding up the rutted trail, the daylight fading around them. With the setting sun casting an orange glow over the earth and black shadows creeping out to meet them, Bodie could have been forgiven for thinking that everything was peaceful. But he knew that appearances could be deceptive. His instincts warned him to stay on his guard. It was a long time to dawn and anything could happen during the dark hours of night …
Chapter Ten
After his meeting with Angela Crown and the man called Bodie, Jonas Randall had carried on back to
High Grade. On reaching town he had driven the buckboard to his company offices and had gone inside, making his way to his private office on the second floor, overlooking the main street. There were two telegraph messages waiting on his desk. Randall read the first casually, then screwed it up and tossed it aside. He took the second message and scanned it quickly. A hard look came into his eyes and his handsome face darkened with anger. He sat down behind his desk and re-read the telegraph message. This time he read it slowly, digesting every word with care. And then he placed the message on the desk, swiveling his chair to face the window. He remained in that position for a long time, deep in thought.
Abruptly Randall rose to his feet. He strode across the office and yanked open the door.
“Hicks!” he bawled across the outer office. “Get in here fast!”
By the time Randall had sat down again the man called Hicks was standing before his desk.
“I want you to go and find Captain Deeks,” Randall said, his voice too loud. “Tell him I want him here now!”
“Yes, Mr. Randall,” Hicks murmured.
“Hicks, you damn well tell him I mean now — not later. Or tomorrow. I don’t care what he’s doing! I want him here!”
Ten minutes later Deeks strolled into the office, closing the door at Randall’s request. Deeks crossed the room and sat down. He didn’t take off his hat because he had become self-conscious about everybody staring at the swathe of white bandage covering his skull.
“Somethin’ wrong?” he asked, wondering what had put Randall in such a foul mood.
“Damn right,” Randall said. He thrust the telegraph message at Deeks.
Deeks read the message. “Yeah?”
Randall snatched the message back. “You have read it?”
“Yeah! Hell, you was watchin’ me. So I read it. And?”
“You understand what it means?”
Deeks shrugged. “Some crap from New York about the Crown mine.”
“Judas Priest!” Randall groaned. “Deeks, what you’ve just read is as near to a sentence of death you’ll ever get that doesn’t say it in so many words.”
