by Neil Hunter
In the Bighorn Mountains of Wyoming, Bodie is on the trail of Lew Gallman and his gang. They’re a bunch of brutal killers who’ll go to any lengths to get what they want, and kill anyone who stands in their way.
Tracking the Gallman bunch in the heart of a raging storm, Bodie takes shelter in a cave and meets Ruby Keogh, survivor of an encounter with the Gallman crew. When one of the Gallman gang shows up, Bodie deals with him and is then tasked, reluctantly at first, with seeing that Ruby gets to safety before he can continue his manhunt.
At last, riding into the high country, Bodie faces danger and near-death before the hunt climaxes on the peaks of the Bighorn Mountains, where the outlaws fight to the last man against The Stalker.
THE HIGH RIDERS
BODIE THE STALKER 8
By Neil Hunter
Copyright © 2016 by Michael R. Linaker
First Smashwords Edition: March 2016
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Series Editor: Ben Bridges ~*~ Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
Chapter One
Big Horn Mountains, Wyoming Territory
It was a known fact—Bodie did not like rain. Especially the driving, chilled downpour he was forced to ride through as he negotiated the rocky slopes of the Big Horn Mountains. And this part of the country appeared to be suffering one hell of a stormy period. The rain had persisted over the last couple of days as the manhunter tracked the men he was after. A merciless bunch who were wanted for a continued cycle of robberies and murder.
Five of them.
Josh Stringer. Lang Wilkerson. Joe Lagrange. Ramon Vasquez.
And Lew Gallman, the man who led the gang.
Bodie had picked up their trail north of Laramie, finding he was about three days behind them as they pushed their way through Wyoming and left behind a string of broken banks and equally broken bodies. The Gallman bunch had a particularly nasty habit of gunning down anyone who got in their way, or supposedly got in their way. Regard for human life did not seem to be in their makeup. They were as cold-blooded a bunch Bodie had ever come across. He had already set himself for a bloody confrontation when he met up with them and in his mind had decided this was going to end up with his quarry more dead than alive. Cold comfort for the recent victims if that did happen, but Bodie didn’t set the rules. He simply went down the road that would leave him standing at the conclusion.
He drew rein. Easing his horse under the canopy of branches that at least slowed the downpour. He hunched his slicker closer. His horse, a strong chestnut mare with a propensity to sulkiness when the weather didn’t suit. She disliked the rain as much as Bodie and displayed her mood by snorting loudly and jerking against the bit.
‘Ain’t my damn fault it’s raining,’ Bodie said. ‘Just the way it is, so quit jigging about.’
From where he was sheltering Bodie could see beyond the rise of ground to where the craggy slopes stepped up to misty peaks. From the route the Gallman bunch was moving he figured they were making for them.
The High Lonesome.
The isolated slopes where a man could lose himself, surrounded by rocky escarpments and meadows. Places a man could hide and not be found if he really didn’t care to be. Bodie had spent some time in the past up in the high peaks when he’d been in need of a break. There were times a man took to the empty spaces while he cleared his head and simply lived the simple life, away from people and their attendant complications.
He felt the mare moving under him. Restless and still unsettled.
‘Okay, horse, I hear you.’
He worked the reins and eased the chestnut out from beneath the trees, picking up the trail again. The downpour pounded his sodden hat and rolled off the enveloping slicker. The fall was heavy enough that it created a silvery mist when it hit the ground.
It was barely mid-morning, with a long day stretching out in front of Bodie. He had spent the previous night sheltering beneath a moss covered overhang large enough to take him and his horse. It had been an uncomfortable night. The rocky ground under Bodie had left him stiff and in an unsociable mood, which given his situation wasn’t entirely unexpected. A cold meal had done little to make him feel better. Even thinking about the bounties being offered for the Gallman gang did little to ease his discomfort.
Overhead Bodie picked up the low rumble of thunder over the distant peaks. It promised more rain and the likelihood of a storm.
‘And you think you’ve got something to grumble about,’ Bodie said to the chestnut. ‘Hell, you figure you’re wet now. Wait till that storm hits.’
His warning came to fruition less than an hour later when the increasing rumble of thunder became intense. The deep boom preceded the increase in the downpour. The rain hit with physical force and Bodie hunched his shoulders against it. On the higher peaks strikes of lightning flashed, brilliant jagged fingers crisscrossing the uppermost escarpments. Bodie felt the mare balk, nervous tremors shaking the animal. He held the reins taut, then leaned over the horse’s neck, stroked the powerful neck and using gentle words to calm her. He could understand the chestnut’s agitation. The sight and sound of a full strength mountain storm could unnerve the steadiest human, let alone an already fidgety horse. It took Bodie a couple of fraught minutes to fetch the animal under control and though she didn’t like it the animal kept moving forward
The dense clouds turned the day gloomy, making it harder for Bodie to stay on his course. He determined to keep his marker in sight. A particular shaped peak he was using to maintain his line of travel. It was his only point of reference in this unknown country. Bodie had no maps. No written directions. All he had were his tracking skills and the instinct developed from years of using them.
There was also Bodie’s unerring dedication to his hunt. He never gave up once he had set himself. Ingrained into his very being, it had earned him the title that he never asked for, The Stalker. He never knew where it had come from. Or who had first coined it. It passed word of mouth and any man who heard he was being trailed by Bodie understood he would never, truly escape. Dead or alive it was a given fact Bodie would find him. Sooner or later the confrontation would occur. It was down to the quarry to choose the final outcome. There were always those who chose to stand against him—a choice they would inevitably regret.
Bodie made no show when it came to using his gun. Never made anything of it. But he possessed the ability to use his weapon with deadly intent. Facing another man’s gun did not faze him. His steady nerve went beyond the norm. When Bodie drew it was with what might seem indifference but that was a falsity. He concentrated on his ability to place his bullet where it would do the utmost damage and put an end to any face off. The quick draw experts held little threat to Bodie. He had seen them come and go, their supposed invincibility shattered by a well-placed, marginally slower, shot. Bodie made no claims to being a fast draw shootist. He never bragged about his abilities. Made no claims. When the time came he simply reacted and his long term survival backed up his ability. He’d been shot on numerous occasions and figured it would happen again. There were always the back shooters. The hidden gun fired from ambush. Bodie was only human and even he was a target of those kinds of attack. He was aware of his own vulnerability, accepting one day he might be caught unaware. It was a fact of life, so Bodie took i
t on board and told himself if it happened fate would have its day.
‘Horse, I’m feeling sorry for myself right now. Weather like this makes a feller downright moody.’
The chestnut, head down against the storm, made no response. It simply plodded forward through the rain.
‘Getting to you as well, huh? Well we’re a sorry pair.’
A bright flash of lightning lit up the area. In the stark brilliance Bodie caught a glimpse of a dark cave mouth off to his left, a wide gap in the face of a rising rock wall, water streaming down the open face. He eased the chestnut round and pushed it up the stony bank fronting the high face. It was no welcoming man made structure but it might at least provide some degree of shelter from the drenching storm and he was in no position to be too picky.
He dismounted and took the reins, leading his horse up to the cave, negotiating the loose slope and splashing through the watery overspill. A few feet inside the interior was shadowed. Not completely dark but gloomy enough to prevent Bodie from seeing the human shape in time to back off.
The shape moved forward, low light enough to reflect off the metal of a rifle that was aimed directly at Bodie, the muzzle settling on a point between his belt buckle and his chest…
Chapter Two
He was aware of his own vulnerability, accepting one day he might be caught unaware.
Bodie’s maudlin thought of only a few minutes ago came back as he eyed the unwavering rifle muzzle. He hadn’t expected it to happen quite so fast.
‘I could shoot you right now if I had a mind.’
The voice was tight with caution. It was also female and Bodie detected a slight unease.
‘I’m not about to argue that point,’ he said. ‘And I ain’t about to give you any reason to prove it. Right now all I want is to get in out of this damned rain. My horse and I stay out here much longer we’ll just get washed away. Or struck by lightning. Be obliged of we could take cover is all.’
The indistinct figure stepped forward, the targeted rifle staying on Bodie.
He saw a well-shaped young woman, clad in man’s clothing, her thick auburn hair tumbling in thick coils to her shoulders. Her pale face, with strong cheekbones and a firm set mouth, was startlingly beautiful. Her searching gaze, from hazel eyes, examined Bodie’s tall figure as if that look would tell her everything she would ever want to know about him. He figured her to be in her late twenties.
At any other moment in time Bodie would have allowed himself to appreciate her beauty from a strictly male point of view. But instead he concentrated on the damp bloodstain showing through the fabric of her gray shirt on her right side. From the freshness of the patch it was obvious the wound was still bleeding. Her clothing was untidy, cut and torn, just as her face and hands were. A bruise on one cheek.
‘Ma’am, you’ve been hurt some.’
‘Not enough to stop me pulling this trigger.’
‘I don’t doubt it but I figure you doing that wouldn’t be too good for either of us.’
‘A bullet for you.’
‘No question there. But the way you’re holding that Winchester against your wound isn’t the smart thing to do. That gun is going to kick it hard. Not the best thing for you. Ain’t about to do a deal for your healing.’
She dropped her eyes for a moment to glance at the wound. In that brief few seconds Bodie lunged forward, left hand reaching out to push the rifle’s muzzle out of harm’s way, followed by the right to snatch the weapon from her grasp. The woman made a grab to regain control but the sudden move drew a gasp of pain from her lips and she hurriedly clamped both hands to her side, bending forward against the hurt. Bodie reached out with his empty left hand to grip her shoulder and take some of her weight.
‘Easy now,’ he said. ‘Take it easy, ma’am. Let’s not go getting too excited.’
Bodie laid the rifle down and guided her to the side of the cave, his big hands surprisingly gentle. He helped her to sit. She offered no resistance.
‘You have anything with you?’
The auburn hair swayed as she shook her head.
‘Just me and the rifle.’
‘Sit tight then.’
Bodie went to his horse and led it all the way inside the cave. He shrugged out of the slicker. Went to his roll behind the saddle, wrapped in an oilcloth and freed it. He shook out his blankets and wrapped them around the woman’s shoulders. She grasped the sides and pulled the blankets around her.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
Bodie brought his canteen and offered it to her. She drank sparingly, leaning her head against the cave wall.
‘I’m hoping you don’t have anything to do with those men.’
Bodie wondered how many more surprises the day was going to bring.
‘Not with them,’ he said. ‘More like following them.’
The woman pulled the blankets tighter around her, the hazel flecked eyes searching his face.
‘A lawman?’
‘Used to be a long time back. Now I do it for the money.’
A frown creased her forehead. Then she said, ‘Bounty man.’
Bodie noticed she didn’t make it sound grubby.
‘It’s a dirty job but somebody has to do it,’ he said, trying for lightness.
‘I’d need a lot of money to go chasing those…’ She hesitated. ‘I almost used an unladylike word.’
‘It sounds as if you have a story to tell.’
‘If you have the time.’
Bodie glanced out the cave entrance at the torrential rain that was showing no sign of slackening off.
‘We could be here for a spell.’
‘I’m Ruby Kehoe.’
‘Bodie.’ He produced a few strips of beef jerky from his saddlebag pouch, ‘You hungry?’
Ruby reached out and took a strip. ‘Right now that looks good.’
‘Those men who met up with you. How many?’
‘Five. I heard one of them use a name. He called one of them Stringer.’
‘Josh Stringer. That would make them the bunch I’m trailing. The Gallman gang. A rough crowd.’
‘I think I could attest to that.’
Her voice faltered and she bent her head, concentrating on chewing the tough meat. Bodie sensed the subject was hard for her. He allowed her time to debate the matter.
‘They caught us. Came out of nowhere and said they were taking our horses…they just shot Grant and Rafer, our guide…I mean they shot them without a thought. I can’t forget the look in Grant’s eyes as the bullets hit him. He fell against me, pushed his rifle in my hand and told me to run…it was the last thing he said to me. I can’t even recall how I did get away. We were camped near some trees and brush, so I simply ran. I didn’t think. Then those men started shooting. I could hear bullets hitting the trees around me. I fell a couple of times. Got up and ran again. They kept shooting and I felt something hit my side. By then I was in a total panic…I had no idea where I was going. And then, suddenly, the shooting stopped…but I didn’t…I just kept moving until I was so exhausted I simply collapsed. I crawled into the brush and hid. I was terrified. Expecting those men to show up at any moment. It started to rain and I realized I needed shelter. I found this place. Been here ever since. Trying to work out what to do next.’
‘What were you people doing up here?’
‘Seems so stupid now. Grant was my cousin. We came here so he could take photographs. He worked for a magazine in New York. They commissioned him to create a portfolio of the Western mountains. Pictures. Maps. I was his work partner. My job was to write the words to accompany his illustrations. This wasn’t the first time we had collaborated. California. Oregon. The Eastern states. A couple of years ago we did one on Canada. Grant had always wanted to do something here. He loved the idea of the mountains. The forests…’
She broke off suddenly, cupping her hands to her face and Bodie saw her shoulders shaking.
‘You’ve had a rough time,’ he said.
Ruby looked dire
ctly at him. ‘What do I do now? Everything’s gone. Grant, my cousin. The man we hired to guide us, Rafer Bledsoe. Both dead. Those men took our horses. Even the pack animal with all Grant’s equipment. Food. Supplies. Mr. Bodie, I have nothing left to survive on.’
‘For what it’s worth you’ve got me.’
‘But I can’t expect you to burden yourself with me. You came up here looking for those men, not to nursemaid a woman.’
Bodie appreciated her feelings and if he’d been so inclined could have agreed. He had a reputation as a hard man. Someone who could walk away if something—or someone—interfered with his situation. And there was a whole lot of truth in that. He was a bounty hunter. His work brought him into contact with some of the worst men around, and he had long ago realized in order to stand up to those men he had to be as tough—if not tougher—than any of them. He had a dedicated streak that kept him on the trail of wanted men until he caught up with them. There was something in Bodie’s makeup that pushed him forward, never even contemplating backing off. In Bodie’s world quitting didn’t exist.
That stubborn nature had earned him the title he heard men use about him. Not something he ever uttered, but something he carried like an invisible mark.
The Stalker.
That was the persona he widely presented to the world. It was not the complete person. Faced by the young Ruby Kehoe he had to offer her some kind of way out of her current situation. He might not have been entirely happy with it. Yet there was no way he could simply ride out and leave her here, alone, with nothing but the clothes she stood up in and a single rifle to protect herself. Providing she could use the weapon. The feeling he got was that she would be proficient.
The Gallman bunch was moving away with every passing moment. Something else Bodie wasn’t pleased about. He had his thoughts and passed on them. In the immediate moment there was nothing he could do about that situation so grumbling about it was not about to change anything. He’d lost quarry before. And always caught up with them later, so he shouldered that and moved on. His priority was the woman.
