by Neil Hunter
‘Hey. Kramer, you got any coffee back there?’ Lagrange called.
‘I’ll bring you some.’
There was invariably a big pot of strong coffee simmering on the back burner. Kramer filled a couple of tin cups and carried them through. He placed them on the table.
‘You finished burning those damn steaks yet?’ Stringer said.
‘Couple more minutes,’ Kramer said and returned to his kitchen.
‘I don’t trust that dammed German,’ Stringer said.
‘Why not? And he ain’t German. He’s from Austria I heard.’
‘Still a damn foreigner. And I still don’t trust him.’
‘Kramer runs a good place.’
‘He’d spit on us given a chance.’
‘Josh, you got a weird way of lookin’ at things.’
‘Right now I’d like to be lookin’ at that damn bounty man ‘long the barrel of my gun.’
A couple of minutes later Kramer brought their food. He put the plates down and handed them eating utensils, then retreated to tidy some shelves. Out the corner of his eye he watched the pair, still nervous in their presence and still trying to figure why they had shown up. He didn’t believe it was an innocent visit. Not the way the one called Stringer kept turning to look out the open door.
Damned if they ain’t waitin’ on someone.
After a time he refilled their coffee, removing the empty plates.
‘Food okay?’
Stringer grunted some kind of reply.
‘Pretty good,’ Lagrange said. ‘At least your steaks don’t move around on the plate.’
Kramer’s eyes strayed to the open door. He saw a pair of distant riders, heading in the direction of the post. Stringer must have seen them at the same moment. He reached across the table and tapped Lagrange’s hand. The big man slowly swung his head around.
‘Yeah,’ he said quietly.
His eyes turned and he stared at Kramer. The expression in them made Kramer’s skin crawl. He knew why the pair were here now. They were waiting for the two riding in. For an instant his eyes travelled to the shotgun pegged beside the door. The Winchester behind the bar. They wouldn’t do him any good. Lagrange and Stringer were too good to be caught napping.
And there he’d been thinking it was going to be a quiet day. It just went to show you couldn’t know what was coming.
Chapter Seven
‘Horses beside the corral,’ Ruby said.
‘I see them.’
‘They could belong to anyone though.’
Bodie only looked beyond the trading post, his eyes picking up the line of tracks coming curving in from the east.
‘They came from the north. Cut around east, then into the trading post. Most likely a shortcut that let them get ahead of us. Like I said these boys know their territory.’
‘Only two riders.’
‘The others have most likely gone to home.’
‘Unless they’re behind us waiting to box us in.’
‘A thought,’ Bodie said, ‘but I don’t think so.’
‘Bodie, they could pick us off right now.’
‘Then do exactly what I tell you. Don’t question. Just do it.’
She looked at him. Defiance in her eyes and it seemed she might refuse.
‘I…’
‘I don’t need to be worrying about you if things get serious.’
‘All right. I get the message. Just tell me and I’ll do it.’
‘Soon as we reach the water trough there I want you out of your saddle and flat on the ground. Head down and stay there. Just keep your rifle handy. If I signal don’t wait. Start shooting.’
They closed the distance. Bodie had the feeling they were being watched. He kept his Winchester flat across his thighs, ready to respond. He scanned the sides of the trading post, searching for any movement that might show. There were no telltale signs anyone was concealed but Bodie never took anything on face value.
He slid his finger across the rifle’s trigger, watched the water trough come close, and slipped his boots out of his stirrups.
The door to the trading post showed as a dark oblong. Bodie saw nothing at first. Then he picked out a moving shape just inside the door. Faint, staying to one side, then the merest gleam of light along metal…a gun barrel.
‘Now, Ruby, get down.’
Out the corner of his eye Bodie saw her slide from the saddle and drop flat behind the trough.
He pushed her from his mind after that as the gun barrel pushed forward, muzzle hard in his direction.
Bodie took long steps as soon as his boots hit the ground, away from the chestnut, his rifle arcing up and settling on the doorway.
The rifle there fired. The slug plowed into the soft earth, kicking up a dark jet. Bodie came to a halt, his own weapon returning fire. He worked the lever, triggering fast, and sent out a trio of .44-40 slugs. Long splinters of wood exploded from the door frame. Bodie saw the rifle barrel jerk back. Lost in the shadow inside the doorway. Bodie changed direction, charging directly for the timber wall of the trading post and bracing himself there. The door was on his left.
He could hear a man cursing and picked up angry words.
‘…of a bitch. Burned my damn shoulder…I’ll cut out his miserable heart…’
Bodie glanced in the direction of the water trough. Saw Ruby peering around the end. He raised his rifle and gestured with it in the direction of the door, hoping she would understand. He made a circular motion with his hand and started towards the far corner of the building. Behind him he heard the crash of shots as Ruby began to lay down a volley aimed at the doorway.
Bodie slipped around the corner, moving quickly along to the far end. He was banking on there being a rear door. Most likely leading to the kitchen area. Over his head he could see smoke issuing from a chimney stack rising above the roofline. There were no windows in the side wall. A long stack of cut logs stood against the wall and he had to step around them as he reached the corner, pressing against the wall as he peered around the corner.
He could still hear the shots coming from Ruby’s rifle. She was spacing her firing so not to empty her magazine too quickly.
Along the back wall Bodie saw the detritus from the trading post. Piles of rubbish, empty boxes. Trash. The smell of decay.
He saw the rear door, standing open. The odor of cooked meat drifted out through the opening.
Bodie went in fast, moving to the side to avoid being silhouetted in the opening.
‘Sonofabitch come in here,’ a voice yelled. ‘Back way, Joe...’
Bodie heard the scrape of boots on the hard-packed floor. Something clattered and a bottle shattered as it fell.
A dark shape appeared around the edge of the bar fronting the kitchen area.
‘I see him…’
The crash of a shot sounded. The slug clanged against a cooking pot hanging from a hook and howled off the thick metal.
Bodie ducked low, feeling the heat radiating from the cook stove close by.
A second shot sent more lead in Bodie’s direction.
The shooter reared up, swinging his rifle back and forth.
A lean face showing cheekbones. Graying hair. A black patch over his left eye. It was enough of a description to tell Bodie who the man was.
Joe Stringer.
Another of Gallman’s bunch.
Stringer spotted Bodie and turned fast, following through with his gun.
Bodie lifted his Winchester and triggered his shot a second after Stringer fired.
The outlaw’s slug clipped Bodie’s shirtsleeve. Went on to embed in the far wall. Bodie’s hit, slamming into Stringer’s right shoulder. He yelled, stepped back, but refused to lower his weapon. Bodie hit him again, levering and firing, sending a number of slugs into the man’s body. Bodie’s final slug slammed in between Stringer’s eyes and blew out a bloody chunk of bone as it exited. Stringer staggered back, torso starting to glisten with blood from the multiple wounds.
Bodie laid the rifle aside and drew his handgun. The rifle could be a hindrance in the confines of the building. He moving quickly from the kitchen and around the bar.
A crumpled shape lay on the floor. Elijah Kramer, blood streaming down his face from where a gun barrel had struck him.
A few feet away was the hulking figure of Lagrange. The moment Bodie emerged from behind the bar Lagrange lifted his rifle and fired. Missed. The slug chunking into the wall behind the man hunter. Lagrange pulled the trigger again. The rifle failed to fire—faulty cartridge or empty breech—Bodie never knew. He brought his Colt on line. Lagrange’s powerful arm swept back, then forward again and he hurled the rifle at Bodie, who attempted to duck. The rifle slammed against his right arm and hand, knocking the pistol from his fingers.
Lagrange gave a wild roar and sprang forward, far faster than a man of his bulk was meant to move. He slammed into Bodie, smashing him against the edge of the bar with force enough to drive the air from his lungs. Lagrange wrapped his huge arms around Bodie and held him in a bear hug, squeezing Bodie’s ribs and making it hard to breath.
And Bodie knew he had a fight on his hands…
Chapter Eight
He was unable to get his hands free. His body overwhelmed by Lagrange’s huge bulk. The man lifted Bodie’s feet clear of the floor and shook him like a rag doll. Bodie could feel his chest compressing. He was barely able to suck in air to keep him from passing out. He knew he had to break Lagrange’s hold quickly before he passed out.
From the far distance he heard Lagrange’s voice.
‘…killed Vasquez…now you shot Josh…goddamn sonofabitch I’ll squash you like a bug…’
The way things were going Bodie could have agreed with what the man was saying. There were few options left open to him. Bodie swung his head back, then forward, butting Lagrange directly over his nose. Lagrange felt the pain as his nose broke and blood streamed from it. He shook his head, spraying blood in all directions. Bodie repeated the move, putting in every ounce of strength he could muster. Once, twice, a third time. Lagrange’s nose was reduced to a bloody pulp, cartilage crunching. Blood slid in a bright torrents down his face, into his open mouth as he sucked in air. Bodie felt the man’s bear hug slacken as Lagrange succumbed to the blinding pain. He forced his own arms apart, breaking Lagrange’s grip and the moment his feet hit the floor Bodie gave himself working room. He sank his bunched fists into Lagrange’s stomach, brutal blows that made the man gasp. A further blow over Lagrange’s right side delivered with unrestrained force. As Lagrange stepped back Bodie slammed in a left, a right, another left to his jaw. The blows struck with brutal force, snapping Lagrange’s head back and forth, pushing him across the floor. Bodie kept up the barrage, his big fists delivering powerful blows that reduced Lagrange’s face to a crushed mask of split flesh and streaming blood. He was aware he had to stay on top. If Lagrange turned the fight around it might have a different outcome.
That was exactly what the man did. His powerful arms swung up to stop Bodie’s blows, pushing them aside, and leaving the man hunter briefly open to Lagrange’s attack. Big fists swept in, clouting Bodie across the jaw. Left, right, left again. The blows hurt and Bodie stepped back to stay out of Lagrange’s way. He might have succeeded if he hadn’t lost his footing and went down on one knee.
Lagrange gave a snuffling grunt and hurled himself at Bodie. He caught the man hunter as he came upright, his heavy bulk slamming into Bodie and driving him backwards. Bodie caught the edge of one of the tables, stumbled and fell across it and Lagrange let his bulk slam down on him. The table swayed and collapsed under their combined weight. Bodie felt his breath being crushed out of him as Lagrange’s body sprawled on top of him. They struggled briefly, each seeking the upper hand, until Bodie spread his hands and brought together with full force over Lagrange’s ears. The big man grunted and jerked back. Bodie slammed a fist into Lagrange’s exposed throat. The man began to choke, spitting blood that had streamed from his nose into his mouth. Bodie twisted his body and managed to tip Lagrange sideways. The moment he was clear Bodie scrambled to his feet, leaned in and as Lagrange started to rise, slammed in a couple of brutal blows to the man’s already blood streaked face. Bone cracked in Lagrange’s jaw. Bodie slammed in more punches before his opponent could recover. Lagrange fell sideways and Bodie drove his boot into his side, over the ribs. Lagrange gave a grunt of pain. He almost went to the floor, but with a tremendous surge of strength he drew himself to his feet, shaking his great head. Blood sprayed from his face. His thick jaw was askew, pulling his mouth into a crooked snarl as he held himself upright. Bodie had set himself, fists clenched tight, and as Lagrange struggled to regain his balance Bodie slammed in more blows. To the man’s stomach, bending Lagrange forward, his head presenting itself for Bodie’s next barrage of solid blows that sent Lagrange crashing to the floor.
Lagrange hit hard and for a moment it appeared he was finished, but then he rolled and came to his knees with surprising speed, his right hand dropping to the Colt holstered on his hip as if he had only just realized he was wearing it. As the pistol came free and Lagrange swung it around to track Bodie, the man hunter threw himself aside, hearing the crash of Lagrange’s shot. The slug gouged a chunk out of the hard packed floor. Bodie kept moving as Lagrange rose to his full height, left arm sleeving blood from his eyes as he leveled the Colt again. Bodie twisted his body across the floor, right hand reaching for the Colt he had dropped. As his fingers closed around the butt he heard Lagrange’s second shot and felt the tear of the slug across his side. He thrust out his arm, tilting the muzzle up and put a slug into Lagrange as the man dogged back the hammer for a third shot. The slug thudded into Lagrange chest high and was followed by three more. Lagrange went over like a felled redwood, his body landing hard.
Bodie stood, hand pressed to his side where blood was seeping through the bullet burn in his shirt. He leaned against the bar, sucking air into his aching lungs. He saw a bottle on the bar and picked it up, pulled the cork and took a long swallow. The raw whisky brought tears to his eyes and burned all the way down.
After a couple of minutes he crossed to the door and called Ruby’s name. She pushed to her feet, still cradling the rifle and walked to where he was waiting. She saw the spreading bloodstain on his shirt. The streaks from his mouth.
‘Is it safe now?’ Bodie nodded and she said, ‘And I see you managed to get yourself shot.’
‘Thanks for the sympathy.’
‘Oh, you know what I meant.’
Bodie led the way inside. She averted her eyes when she was confronted by Lagrange’s sprawled body.
Bodie had crossed to where Kramer was stirring, holding a hand to his bleeding head.
‘Help me get him in a chair.’
They did, Kramer slowly coming round after Ruby brought water and a cloth for his wound. He stared around, taking in the bloody body.
‘There were two of them,’ he said.
‘The other one’s in your kitchen,’ Bodie told him.
Ruby glanced at Bodie. ‘You killed both of them?’
‘They weren’t in a talking mood,’ he offered.
‘And they didn’t pay for the food I cooked,’ Kramer muttered.
~*~
It was full dark by the time they were able to sit and rest. The bodies had been moved to the lean-to outside. The horses were seen to. After Ruby had tended to their wounds, Kramer insisted he cook them food, Ruby helping him.
Ruby had cleaned the bullet burn in his side, seeming to find a moment of humor when she reminded Bodie how he had done the same for her.
‘Do you think we’ll have matching scars?’
Despite himself Bodie grinned. Over everything else she had an open way he found interesting. Ruby had worked on the head wound Kramer had received after being pistol-whipped by Stringer. The trading post owner had resented the way the two men had abused his generosity and tried to step in when the ambush had threatened Bodie and Ruby.
Bodie sat with a mug of whisky-laced coffee, considering his next move. It was clear what he had to do. Lew Gallman and Lang Wilkerson were still riding free and he needed to pick up their trail again. In all the years since he had started to track men, Bodie had never walked away. Three of the Gallman bunch were dead. He still had two more to deal with. He would stay at the post overnight, then move on, retracing the way he had come down off the high ground and locate the tracks left by the two surviving gang members.
He would leave Ruby here at the post and that would enable him to move faster, without her safety to concern him. That wasn’t strictly true. Unwittingly she had been drawn into his world and he felt a degree of responsibility towards her. It was down to him to make sure she was kept away from further danger and he was determined to make certain that happened.
Chapter Nine
Gallman and Wilkerson spent the night in a stand of timber, where they made a fire and brewed coffee. As soon as it was light they checked their horses, refreshed themselves with coffee, then broke camp and mounted up. They were climbing into high peak country now. Looking back they were able to see the sprawl of timber and brush thickets. Over the stark heights clouds moved in lazy arcs across the blue sky. The air was starting to take on the sharp freshness that only came at such an altitude. The horses picked their way over the steep slopes with care. They knew were close to their destination now.
Lang Wilkerson leaned forward in his saddle to ease the pressure on his spine. ‘You figure the boys are on their way?’
‘Mebbe so,’ Gallman said. ‘Just taking their time.’
The last time they had seen Lagrange and Stringer had been when they had handed over the gold bags picked up the cave where Vasquez had died. The pair had turned about follow the trail heading down the mountain slope. Wilkerson wondered if taking their time was the case. He hadn’t forgotten the way Vasquez had died. Getting the drop on the Mexican meant there was someone down there with a quick hand.
