Bodie 6

by Neil Hunter

  “It was not your feelings I was concerned over,” she said hotly.

  “Well, hell, don’t tell me you’re turning modest all of a sudden!”

  Her cheeks flamed with color and she turned away from him, stalking off towards the stream. Bodie followed her and sat down on the ground a few yards behind her.

  “Why do you not come and sit right next to me?” Victoria asked, her tone regaining its former sharpness.

  “Gracias, señorita, but I’m fine right here. Don’t you pay me no mind at all.”

  Victoria threw the blanket down on the grass. Deliberately turning her back to him she began to undress, the very act of removing her clothes a defiance of his presence. She stood finally naked, drawing her long black hair up on top of her head and tying it in place with a length of ribbon from her dress. Bodie watched her, noting that the shape hinted at by the close-fitting dress was delightfully feminine now that it had been exposed. Beneath the silky sheen of tawny flesh he could see the ripple of strong muscles playing down the long curve of her back. He caught the slight quiver of her firm, rounded buttocks as she waded into the chill water, and then she knelt and let the stream cover her to the top of her slim shoulders.

  Bodie found he envied her. He felt dirty and unshaven, and it seemed a hell of a long time since he’d had a good wash. His clothing was starting to stiffen with its accumulation of dirt and sweat. He noticed his hands; they were grimed with dust, the flesh scarred and rough. He must have looked a sight. He wondered how he looked to Victoria Castillo. Like some wild animal that had just crawled out from a hole in the ground! It wasn’t a bad description of how he felt right there and then. Not that he had much say in the matter. The situation he was in didn’t promote an atmosphere of decency — and he didn’t imagine that things were about to get any better.

  The sound of splashing drew his attention back to Victoria Castillo. Avoiding his gaze she waded from the stream, water spilling from her gleaming young body. Bodie stared at her, caught by the sensual image of her nakedness, and he felt his own body ache with desire. Victoria paused at the stream’s edge to scoop water up and splash it over her face. Her arms brushed against the proud thrust of her jutting, full breasts, rosy nipples erect from the cold water. Moisture glistened on the smooth torso and the flat stomach, losing itself in the thick tangle of black hair between the taut thighs. Stepping from the water Victoria snatched up the blanket and wrapped it around herself.

  “Did I please you?” she asked, her voice as icy as the water in the stream.

  “Better than watching the grass grow,” Bodie growled.

  Her features softened. So had her voice when she spoke again. “Do you want me?” she asked, leaning forward, and letting the blanket slip to expose one swelling breast.

  Bodie smiled at her. “Not enough to let you go!”

  “Damn you, gringo!” she shouted. She picked up her clothes and ran to the cabin.

  Victoria had reached the door when she stopped and threw a quick glance towards the entrance of the canyon. She glanced at Bodie and saw that he too had heard the sound. It came again; the sharp rattle of stones being dislodged by a passing horse. Bodie moved to his horse and snatched his Winchester from the sheath, levering a round into the breech.

  Lon Walker’s horse appeared. But it wasn’t Lon in the saddle. Bodie stared up into the face of Father Lucero. A face barely recognizable beneath the sheen of blood. Lucero swayed, sliding out of the saddle. Bodie stepped up and caught the priest. Father Lucero got his feet under him and regained his balance. He lifted his head and stared at Bodie. His eyes were swollen almost shut.

  “What the hell happened?” Bodie demanded.

  “Help me inside,” Father Lucero asked. He spoke through lips badly torn and swollen.

  Bodie supported the priest and led him inside the cabin, sat him down at the table. He moved to fetch water and found that Victoria had already done so. She had barely had time to pull on her dress and her hair had come loose, falling across her still-damp shoulders.

  Leaving her to attend to the priest Bodie crossed to the fire and lifted the coffee pot. He filled a mug and took it to the table.

  “Here, drink this,” he said.

  Father Lucero took the coffee, forcing it between his tender lips. As he raised the mug Bodie saw that his hands were badly bruised, the fingers thickened and crusted with dried blood. He held back his impatience, giving the priest time to drink the coffee. Draining the mug Father Lucero sat for a moment, his head bowed as if he was in prayer.

  “In my life,” he said, “I have seen a number of bad things. But today I have seen terrible things.” He raised his head to look at Bodie. “Elfego Rojhas is dead. Butchered. Hung up on a rope like a side of beef. The men who were with him are all dead. And your friend, the Kiowa, is Don Castillo’s captive!”

  “Damn!” Bodie spat. It was all going wrong. The whole blasted scheme. “Why did they beat you?”

  “It was the idea of that madman, Kane. A final touch to make sure you understood the message I was sent to bring you.”

  “Which is?”

  “Castillo refuses to even consider freeing the Indians. He informed me that he will never submit to being put under pressure. His position as a Grandee does not allow for such considerations.”

  “The hell it don’t!”

  Father Lucero put a hand on Bodie’s arm. “It is no use, my son. Castillo will not change his mind. He is a stubborn man.”

  “So am I, Father!” Bodie indicated Victoria. “What did he say about her?”

  Father Lucero sighed, the sound of a man who has finally given up trying to understand his fellow creatures. “He said that you had taken her for nothing. Even though she is his own flesh he will not bargain for her.”

  “No! It is not true, Father!” Victoria’s voice trembled, uncertainty edging her words. “Do you expect me to believe that my own father would abandon me?”

  The priest reached out and took hold of her slim hands. “My child, would you expect me to lie? I will not deny that I have little liking for your father. He and I have been in conflict for many years. You have witnessed my visits to Pueblo Diablo. You have heard me plead with Don Castillo on behalf of his peons. And just as many times he has turned me away. But my words are the words of truth — of God’s truth — I think you know that. Have we not respected each other over many years? Since you were a child?”

  Victoria nodded quickly, turning her head away — but not before Bodie caught the gleam of tears in her eyes.

  “Listen to me, Victoria,” Father Lucero pleaded. “I am not here to condemn. Simply to tell what I saw. My words have given you pain and for that I am sorry. But truth has the habit of doing such things.”

  “Father, just what is Castillo planning?” Bodie asked.

  “He will scour the countryside for you. Your friend ... I think Castillo will kill him. Or perhaps he hopes to lure you to the hacienda in an attempt to free him.” Father Lucero shrugged. “I do not know, my son. I am weary.”

  “Take it easy. You’ve earned it.” Bodie made for the door. “Look after him,” he said to Victoria.

  “If I were to be honest, Father,” Victoria said as Bodie left the cabin,

  “I would have to say that I no longer know my father.”

  “I thought that he was devoted to you.”

  Victoria’s smile was sad. “Only as one of his personal possessions. I was as one of his prize horses. Something to be admired. To be paraded before his guests. To talk intelligently. To play pretty tunes on the piano. To be eventually married off to the son of some other rich and influential Grandee. A means of carrying on the breed!”

  “I find this hard to accept.” “Accept it, Father, for what it is. The truth! My father devotes his life to his new desire. His political career! Perhaps he has educated me too well. I am aware of his aspirations — and I realize that with the support of his powerful friends, his fortune in silver, and his ruthlessness he will easily att
ain his ambitions.”

  “Victoria, what will you do?”

  “I will survive, Father. One lesson I am grateful to Don Castillo for. If he taught me nothing else, he did teach me how to survive — and I will!”

  The cabin door swung open and Bodie framed himself in the opening.

  “Father, were you followed?”

  Father Lucero lurched to his feet. “Followed? I thought not. I was most careful after I left Pueblo Diablo. Many times I stopped to look behind me. But I am not an expert. A skilled man could follow without my knowledge.”

  “Looks like it’s been done,” Bodie said. He closed the door. “There’s someone in the brush near the entrance to the canyon.”

  “Castillo’s men?”

  Bodie shrugged. “It’s for sure they ain’t come neighboring.” He stood by one of the windows, his eyes searching the thick brush that lay along the canyon floor. Somewhere in that tangle of undergrowth armed men were working their way closer to the cabin.

  “Have you time to get away?” Father Lucero asked.

  “Maybe,” Bodie said. He turned from the window, picked up his saddle bags and scooped out a box of cartridges for the rifle, tipping them into his pants pocket. “There a back way out of here?” he asked.

  “There is a place at the far end of the canyon where a landslide broke the wall. I have never tried it, but I think it could be climbed. It would be hard and you could not take the horses.”

  “Then we leave ’em,” Bodie said. “Figure you can make it, Father?”

  Father Lucero smiled. “I will not be going. It is your life which is in danger. You need the chance to get away. Take it before Castillo’s men come.”

  “Staying here could get you killed.”

  “Si. This I know. But it is a risk I am prepared to take. If you stay there will be no chance for you.”

  Bodie snatched up his canteen, glad he’d taken the trouble to fill it from the stream. He turned to Victoria, and found her already on her feet.

  “I am ready,” she said.

  He studied her for a moment, not sure how to take her change of attitude, but not having the time to question it.

  “Look out for yourself, Father,” he said.

  “God go with you both!”

  Bodie opened the cabin door and stepped outside, drawing Victoria with him. Father Lucero’s words drifted after him. The trouble was, Bodie decided, he needed a damn sight more than the help of God on his side. He could have done with Lon Walker at his back.

  Chapter Eleven

  They moved quickly away from the cabin, cutting across open ground. Victoria needed no urging. She ran ahead of Bodie, making for the stand of timber he’d indicated. The distance was slight, but it seemed an eternity; the trees never seemed to get any nearer.

  Bodie heard a man shout. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a figure near the cabin. A Mexican. Beyond him others were breaking out of the brush. More shouting. Arms waving. And then a rifle was raised and the sound of a shot drowned everything else.

  Something slapped Bodie’s left shoulder. He felt himself falling and it was only as he hit the hard ground that he felt the pain. It was white-hot and it burst suddenly, flooding his shoulder with agony. Sweat beaded his face. Bodie struggled to his feet. He could hear boots slapping the ground behind him and he knew he didn’t have any time to spare. As he looked up he saw Victoria had turned towards him.

  “Damn you, woman!” he screamed. “Keep going! You come back this way and I’ll shoot you myself!”

  She stopped, her face pale with either fright or anger. He wasn’t sure which — but she obeyed him and turned around again.

  Bodie spun, facing the advancing men. They were close enough to have faces now, and he saw that they weren’t all Mexicans. There were some white faces among the brown: Preacher Kane’s guns!

  Bodie swung up the Winchester. His left hand seemed to be going numb, but he closed his fingers round the rifle. His fingers touched the trigger and the Winchester exploded heavily. He saw a puff of dust rise from the shirt of one of the Mexicans. The man gave a strangled yell as the bullet flipped him over onto his back, blood spouting from the hole in his chest. The back of his shirt bulged, then split, allowing a gout of red to spatter the ground. While the Mexican was going down Bodie was seeking a fresh target, triggering a deadly hail of bullets. He saw a second man go down, clutching bloody hands to a leg that was squirting blood at a terrifying rate. The other attackers split apart, making for cover. Bodie put a bullet through the back of one retreating head, bursting the man’s brains out through the hole the flattened bullet made on exit.

  He turned and headed for the trees, knowing that the men would be coming again soon. He caught sight of Victoria and waved her on. They weaved their way through the timber, feet making no sound on the soft ground. Bodie could feel the cold, greasy sickness rising in his stomach. Reaction was setting in. His senses were getting themselves sorted out and his body was registering the fact that he’d stopped a bullet.

  The timber slipped away from them and they were in the open. Bodie pointed to where the canyon started to narrow. Above the vegetation he could see the place where the landslide had scarred the otherwise unmarked line of the canyon wall.

  “How can you climb with your shoulder?” Victoria asked.

  “Forget it. No time now.” He caught hold of her arm, spun her round, almost dragging her along. “Move!”

  The brush was higher and thicker here, much of it thorny. The sharp barbs hooked in their clothing, ripped at their flesh. At times they were forced to a dead stop as they pushed through tangled barriers of brush. Without warning the ground fell away into a steep sided, dry watercourse. They plunged down the dusty bank in a choking yellow mist. As he hit bottom Bodie heard Victoria cry out. He struggled to his feet and went to where she lay, took hold of her arm and dragged her upright. There was a bleeding gash above one eye.

  “You still able to walk?” he asked.

  Some of the fire still gleamed in her eyes as she brushed dark hair from her face. “Yes, I am well able to walk!”

  Bodie watched her stumble her way to the rim of the far bank. He followed, his mind digesting the fact that she refused to allow her feelings over her father to drag her down.

  The brush thinned out a little for them. Twenty yards up the canyon lay the crushed mass of tumbled rock left behind after the avalanche. Bodie glanced up at the high rim of the canyon wall. Father Lucero had told him it wouldn’t be an easy climb; now Bodie could see why.

  “All right, Señorita, up we damn well go!” Bodie said as they reached the spot.

  Victoria glared at him. “Is it not possible for you to speak without cursing all the time?”

  “Way I feel right now, Señorita Castillo, the answer’s no!”

  They started to climb, moving from rock to rock, forced to take care that whatever they stepped on would support them. There was a lot of loose shale and smaller stuff amongst the large chunks of splintered rock. More than once they disturbed loose rock, and would hear it leap and bound down the slope, freeing other rock on the way. It was this that worried Bodie. He realized that they could create another full-scale slide if they disturbed too much rock. Knowing this made the climb that much more difficult; it was just another complication to add to what they already carried.

  Victoria managed to climb well, despite the encumbrance of her long dress. Bodie found it tiring, though he realized that his shoulder wound was a contributing factor. It was hurting badly now and he was still losing blood; there was a continuous trail of it across his left hand, and each time he placed his palm down on a rock he left a bloody palm print behind.

  They were well over two thirds of the way to the top when Castillo’s men appeared far below. Bodie happened to be looking in that direction when they stepped into view. The moment they saw him they opened fire. Bullets whip cracked off the stones around Bodie and Victoria, screaming off into the sky. Stone chips exploded in white flashe
s.

  Bodie turned and wedged himself against two slabs of rock. Lifting the Winchester he loosed off a couple of shots at the men below, and saw them scatter. His third shot was fired after a few moments of steady aim; the slam of the shot bounced back and forth across the canyon, and down below a man fell face down in the dust, Bodie’s bullet lodged deep in the back of his skull. Bodie took the opportunity to feed fresh cartridges into the Winchester before he moved on, following Victoria.

  “Tell me where we are running to?” she asked.

  “Right now we’re just running,” he told her. “Away from those damn guns your father pays!”

  He saw the familiar gleam in her eyes, noticed it fade. “A while ago I would have killed you for saying such a thing!”

  “And now?”

  “Now I do not know what to believe. Maybe time will answer the questions in my mind.”

  Bodie moved across to her, nudging her into action. “Trouble is we don’t have any time to spare right now. That bunch down there ain’t about to hold off while we sit a spell ... so let’s go!”

  They slipped and clawed their way up the rock slide. The harsh stone tore at their clothing and their flesh. Progress was slow and as they moved up the bare layers of rock they were acutely aware of how exposed they had become.

  Shots rattled below them. Bullets struck the rock around them, above them, and below them, as Castillo’s men tried to range their rifles.

  “We are almost there!” Victoria said jubilantly.

  Bodie didn’t answer. He was watching the men far below. They had started to climb the rocks.

  “Only a few more feet,” Victoria called. “Bodie — are you listening?”

  He waved her on. Glancing back Victoria saw what was holding his attention. She pulled herself up the last few feet and rolled onto the canyon rim. Peering over the edge she saw that Bodie had laid aside his rifle and was pushing at a large slab of rock balanced near the top of the slide. A great part of the rock lay unsupported, and as Bodie put his weight against it the rock tilted. It hung for a moment, suspended, and then it slid away from Bodie, grating against the rock beneath it. Its own bulk turned it over and over as it dropped. It struck the slide, bounced heavily, and then carried on rolling, drawing more and more rocks and debris with it. A pale wreath of dust misted the air in its wake as it crashed on down towards the canyon floor, and behind came an increasingly larger avalanche of rock. A low sound, like distant thunder, filled the air. A thick cloud of dust hid the canyon floor from sight and as the hurtling, bounding slabs of stone smashed to the canyon floor far below, a single, shrill scream rose — a brief sound that was soon lost in the heavier roar of falling rock.