Bodie 8

by Neil Hunter

  ‘I’m holding you back,’ Ruby said.

  ‘I would have most likely lost them in this weather,’ Bodie told her.

  She managed a smile at that. ‘Mr. Bodie, you are not a very good liar. I’m going to make you lose those men…’

  ‘Only for a while. I’ll pick up their trail later.’

  ‘After you get me off your hands.’

  ‘Miss Kehoe, I’ll see to it you get to safety. I’m not about to leave you here alone.’

  ‘Thank you. Propriety aside in our present situation I would rather we did away with formal manners. My name is Ruby.’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Bodie.’

  ‘Is that first or last?’

  ‘Just Bodie.’

  ‘Rather enigmatic. But I must say it suits you.’

  ‘You warm enough with those blankets?’

  ‘I am—Bodie.’

  She watched him cross to stand just inside the opening, staring out at the heavy rain. Hands resting lightly on his lean hips. Her eyes were drawn to the holstered pistol resting low on his hip. The weapon looked large and heavy yet he moved as if he wasn’t carrying it around with him. There was nothing fancy in the rig he carried it in and she realized to him it was simply a tool of his trade. She noted the thin rawhide that held the holster to his thigh, keeping it steady even when he moved, and she was unable to prevent the question forming in her mind.

  How many men had he killed?

  Those outlaws. Desperadoes who lived with wanted posters hanging over them. Ruby Keogh had heard about those kinds of men. Had read about them. Had listened to the stories. But until the moment those five had forced themselves into her life she had never contemplated being confronted by them. It had left her shocked—especially to see Grant and Rafer shot down in front of her. Reality was far removed from the reportage in newspapers and magazines. The violence had been shocking to her. The deaths ugly. And she might have remained transfixed if Grant, forcing out the words from suddenly bloody lips, had not pushed his rifle into her hands and used his dying breath to tell her to go. He had stood between Ruby and the killers, hanging on to life and giving her the vital seconds she needed to turn about and run, plunging into the thick brush at her back, ignoring the yelling voices behind. By the time they had reacted, raising their weapons, she had forced her way into the dense brush. She had heard shots, the snap and thud as bullets followed her, and she had thought she would get away untouched until the burning sensation as one bullet tore across her side. If anything it forced her to run faster, ignoring the brush that clawed at her, tearing her clothes, leaving her skin scratched and bloody.

  Ruby exorcised the images from her thoughts, returned to the moment and her consideration of the man, Bodie, who had come into her life. He was by his own admission a bounty hunter. A man who made his living from going up against others. She had only known him for an extremely short time yet she felt no fear where he was concerned. It might have been foolish but she felt safe in his presence.

  ‘I need to see to that wound,’ Bodie said abruptly. ‘Clean it so it doesn’t get infected.’

  ‘I suppose in your line of work dealing with such things is normal.’

  ‘I never see getting shot as normal.’

  ‘Bad choice of words.’

  Bodie had brought his saddlebags and was opening them. She watched his capable movements as he took out a small jar, a roll of clean cotton strips and a squat bottle of what she realized was whisky by the label. He became aware of her scrutiny and held up the bottle.

  ‘Medicinal use.’

  ‘Is that external, or internal?’

  ‘Times are when it can be both. Can you lift your shirt. Let me take a look.’

  She did what he asked, pulling up her shirt until she had exposed the wound. A soft gasp escaped her lips when the cloth had to be tugged away from her flesh. While she did that Bodie tipped some whisky on his hands and rubbed them together. He peered at the wound. A four inch surface lesion that had left a wet score in her white flesh. He poured more whisky on a strip of cloth.

  ‘Gonna hurt some,’ he said. He held out the bottle. ‘You want a bite of whisky?’

  ‘Under the circumstances, why not.’

  The liquor slid down her throat, burning all the way and it brought years to her eyes, and she found it hard to breathe for a few seconds.

  While she was fighting off the bitter taste Bodie worked quickly, cleaning the wound and drying it with a fresh pad of cloth. His touch was sure and it convinced her this was not the first time he had dealt with such matters. She bit back an exclamation when even his light touch caused a flash of pain.

  ‘You were right, it did hurt, but thank you for your consideration.’

  He worked quickly, forming a pad to cover the wound after applying some of the salve from the jar, then deftly wrapping a long strip of cloth around her slim body and tying it off.

  ‘Need to get a doctor to check that later,’ he said, pulling her shirt back down.

  ‘I suppose there are plenty of those in the area.’

  Be gazed at her, not sure whether she was being serious or not. Then his quick smile came again.

  ‘They teach you these clever remarks at some fancy school back east?’

  This time it was Ruby who smiled. ‘Bodie, we are going to get along, I believe.’

  After he had put his saddlebags back on the horse he passed her the canteen again. She weighed it one hand, the bottle of whisky in the other, glancing up at him.

  ‘I’d go for the water,’ he said. ‘Too much whisky on an empty stomach isn’t the best idea.’

  ‘You’re right there.’

  She passed him the bottle and he packed it away while she took a drink from the canteen.

  ‘Do you know this part of the country?’

  ‘Not well,’ he said. ‘Just general knowledge. I was letting the Gallman bunch guide me. Now they do know their way around here. Seems they’ve ridden these hills on more than one occasion. I’m working on the idea they might have some kind of base camp in the vicinity. Place they go when they need to rest up.’

  ‘If that’s so why doesn’t the law go after them in force?’

  ‘Not as easy as it might sound. This is lonely country. Big, wide country. Pretty isolated. Not many people around. Bunch like the Gallmans depend on that. Out here the law doesn’t mean much. It will one day when the place gets settled but right now not many men would sign up to try and flush the Gallman bunch out. They’re liable to sit pretty and pick off anyone blundering around easy as shooting bottles off a fence.’

  ‘You mean like us?’

  ‘They get pretty territorial. Don’t favor anyone in their backyard and turn nasty if someone shows up.’

  ‘Well I don’t want to appear ungrateful, Bodie, but my feelings are for us getting well clear of this place before they decide we are here.’

  ‘No arguments from me on that,’ Bodie said. ‘Sooner I can get you to a safe place the easier I’m going to be.’

  ‘I must be a real burden for you.’

  ‘No offence, Ruby, but I would be a dam sight happier if you weren’t here.’

  ‘I understand. Really I do…and I am sorry I’ve put you in this situation.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong. It’s your health I’m concerned about. Sooner we get you back somewhere safe…’

  He went back and stared out the cave mouth, trying to work out how much longer the rain storm might hold. The amount of water being dropped across the slopes was heavy. It would make travel difficult. Loose soil and rocks could be treacherous underfoot. Runoffs of excess rain would create unexpected streams cascading down from the high ground. Bodie had even seen trees uprooted as heavy rainfall weakened their roots. If he was on his own he might have taken his chances but with the woman matters became that much more risky. He didn’t doubt Ruby Kehoe to be anything but competent, but she would find travel under such extreme conditions h
ard.

  Bodie glanced over his shoulder. Saw her struggling with the strip of jerky he’d provided. That was another problem. Lack of proper food would tell eventually. A human body needed the strength food provided. It offered fuel to keep a person going. Without food the body would slow down, lose its capacity to fight off fatigue. In the rugged mountain terrain that could be fatal. It didn’t always need a bullet to bring someone down.

  ‘Any sign that rain starts to slow down we move,’ he said. ‘Three, four hours it’ll be dark. Sooner we get moving the better chance we have. Don’t want to be wandering around at night.’

  ‘Just tell me when. It’s not as if I have much to pack.’

  Bodie picked up her rifle and checked it over. He ejected the full load, part stripped the weapon, then put it back together. He did it with an ease that came with his total familiarity with the rifle. Ruby watched him thumb the bullets back in. leaned it back against the cave wall.

  ‘Nice gun,’ he said. ‘Well looked after.’

  ‘It was Grant’s. Took it with him wherever we went. He never had to use it once. But he always said it always came down to the one time you might need it.’ Her voice caught and Bodie saw the gleam of tears in her eyes. She cleared her throat. ‘But when that day did come he didn’t even get his chance to protect us.’

  ‘He would have stood no chance against those men, Ruby. They’re killers with little respect for others. Grant might have hesitated but they wouldn’t. Taking life doesn’t worry them at all. It’s the way they operate. Taking from others because they’re too damn lazy to work. It’s the easy way for them.’

  ‘I hope we don’t run into them again.’

  ‘Have to agree with that thought.’

  ‘Hey, amigo, I’m sorry to disappoint you then.’

  Bodie turned, dropping his hand to his Colt, but when he saw the rifle aimed at him, held by the slicker clad man standing at the cave mouth, he knew he had to act quickly.

  Chapter Three

  ‘The pistol. On the ground. Left hand.’

  The accent was Mexican. The grinning face one Bodie had seen before. On wanted flyers.

  Ramon Vasquez. One of Gallman’s bunch. As mean and hard faced as the rest. A man with total disregard for anyone save himself and the men he rode with.

  Bodie lifted his Colt and placed it on the ground.

  ‘Hombre, I know who you are. The one they call The Stalker. Bodie. Big mean bounty man. Not so smart you could fool Vasquez. I knew you were following us. So I double back and find your tracks. Trail you right here.’ He stared beyond Bodie to where Ruby crouched with her back to the cave wall. The grin widened when he recognized her. ‘And, hombre, you have found our missing woman. We thought she had vanished.’

  ‘Were you worried about me?’ Ruby asked, her voice low.

  Bodie had seen the flicker of movement in the Mexican’s eyes as he focused on Ruby. Saw the slight move of Vasquez’s gun muzzle.

  It angled away from Bodie. He knew it would quickly return to cover him again.

  He had his moment. His paper thin chance.

  And took it.

  Bodie’s right hand streaked across his body. Fingers closing over the hilt of the big knife sheathed on his left side. He slid the knife free, swept it up and back, launched it in a smooth blur of movement.

  Vasquez jerked his rifle back on line, finger squeezing the trigger.

  The cave magnified the sound of the shot. The .44-40 slug cleared Bodie’s shoulder by a fraction. Slammed into the hard rock behind him and spat off with a whine, leaving a white scar behind.

  There was no second shot. The rifle slipped from the Mexican’s grip as he reached up to claw at the knife buried in his throat. He tried to pull it free, but the warm blood around the cold steel in his flesh made his fingers slippery. His eyes stared in silent terror. Vasquez slid to his knees.

  Bodie retrieved his pistol. He moved forward and kicked Vasquez’s rifle aside. As he did Vasquez toppled on his side, body jerking in spasm.

  Behind Bodie there was a soft groan from Ruby.

  ‘Him or us,’ Bodie said. ‘No debate.’

  ‘I see that but it…’

  Bodie picked up the discarded rifle. Bent over Vasquez and reached under the slicker. He found the holstered pistol and took it.

  ‘Now we have extra guns,’ he said.

  He handed the nickel-plated Colt to Ruby. Propped the rifle next to hers.

  She watched him work his slicker back on. About to ask what he was doing she realized he was going out to locate the Mexican’s horse.

  ‘Anyone who’s not me shows up you know what to do.’

  Ruby eased back the hammer on the pistol.

  ‘Just make sure you announce yourself, Mr. Bodie.’

  ~*~

  He was back within a half-hour, leading a handsome black stallion that carried a fancy Mexican saddle on its sleek back. The thirty minutes he had been gone had seemed like hours as Ruby sat, barely taking her eyes from the cave entrance. The sheeting rain reduced her range of vision to a few yards and all she could make out were the trees and brush bending under downpour.

  Bodie’s tall figure materialized out of the storm, rain spilling from the gleaming slicker, the black walking quietly behind him. He led the animal alongside his own, stripped off his slicker and shook water off his sodden hat.

  ‘Miss me?’

  ‘Well I had nothing else to do.’

  ‘Sooner we leave the better chance we have of avoiding Vasquez’s friends. Problem is if they figure he’s been gone too long they might backtrack.’

  ‘I was wondering about that myself.’

  Bodie checked over the black. He opened the saddlebags behind the saddle and found a couple of canvas bags holding gold coins. He showed them to Ruby.

  ‘They were busy fellers,’ he said.

  ‘Do you think they might have killed in order to take those?’

  ‘Going on their past record it wouldn’t surprise me.’

  Bodie weighed the heavy bags in his hands, turned and threw them aside.

  ‘What are…’

  ‘Lightening the load that black has to carry.’

  Bodie picked up his slicker and pulled it on. Crossing to where Vasquez lay he first pulled his knife from the man’s throat, sheathed it, then dragged off the slicker the man was wearing. Ruby watched as he stepped outside and let the rain wash the blood off the garment. He turned and came back inside, holding out the slicker. Ruby might have protested. Instead she took the slicker and pulled it on, letting it hang. She tucked the pistol he’d given her behind her belt.

  When Bodie made to pick up the hat that had fallen from the Mexican’s head she held up a warning hand.

  ‘Oh no—I won’t wear that thing. I prefer to get my head wet,’ she said.

  Bodie jammed the rifle she had brought with her into the black’s saddle boot. She took the reins from him and mounted the horse with ease, leaning forward to stroke its powerful neck. She spoke to it softly and the animal tossed its head and stood passively.

  ‘He’ll do,’ Bodie said.

  He mounted the chestnut, then led the way out of the cave and into the rain.

  Beyond the nearby hills thunder still rumbled and lightning flashed. Heavy weather that showed no sign of letting up.

  Ruby eased the black in behind Bodie as they moved through the trees. As safe as she felt in his company she still carried the unease that suggested the way ahead would be far from peaceful.

  Chapter Four

  ‘If Ramon was right and we have someone on our tails, maybe it’s why he ain’t got back to us. Happen he found who it was and happen he’s dead.’

  The four of them were in their saddles, bunched close. The horses they had taken were with them. Rain bounced off the gleaming black slickers the men wore and pushed their hats against their skulls.

  Lang Wilkerson had voiced what they were all thinking. He stared at the others, his thin face showing unshaven cheeks. Wi
lkerson tended to vocalize the thoughts of the group. He understood what their minds were telling them and he put them into words.

  ‘You know I make sense. That Mex may be a pain in the ass, but he don’t do nothin’ for nothin’s sake. Time he’s been gone ain’t right.’

  The man next to him stirred in his saddle. It was almost like watching the side of the mountain move. Joe Lagrange was big. Not fat. Big in the sense he was six-foot-four in height and at times could have been the same width wise. An intimidating man with an unfortunately coarse face that only served to make him even more fearsome. He always dressed in heavy clothing that magnified his size and a wide brimmed hat pulled low over his mass of dark, collar length hair.

  ‘We should go look for him, Lew,’ he said. Lagrange was a man of few words. When he spoke his voice was quietly commanding. ‘He may be in trouble.’

  Lew Gallman, a tall man himself, swatted rain water from his unshaven face. He glanced at the other members of the group. They nodded in silent agreement.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

  They turned their horses around and headed back the way they had come. They all knew the area and needed no maps to guide them. It took them nigh on two hours to reach the spot where Vasquez had cut off from them.

  ‘He rode that way,’ Lagrange said. ‘I know’d where he was going. Big cave a few miles back that way. If that woman found it she’d use it for shelter.’

  ‘Hell, Joe, that’s some guess. For all we know that bitch could’ a fell down a ravine and killed herself.’

  That was Josh Stringer. The grumbler of the gang. He had a sour nature at the best of times and being in the heart of the rainstorm brought out the worst in him. A gray-haired, boney man in his late forties, Stringer had a nasty streak that allowed him to inflict violence on others without a shred of humanity. He had a patch over his left eye that only added to his air of menace; he had lost his eye many years ago as the end result of a bar fight to an equally brutal man named Sublette. Thought Sublette had walked away that day with no more than superficial cuts, he left Stringer with the loss of his eye. A broken bottle had done that. Stringer had never forgotten. Two years later he had met with Sublette along the Wind River and had taken his revenge by overpowering the man and using the heated blade of his knife had burned out both of the other man’s eyes.