Bodie 11

by Neil Hunter

  Bodie’s trek to the town of Sorrow plunged him into all kinds of trouble.

  For a start, he began to have doubts as to the guilt of his prisoner, Henry Purcell. Charged with murder and posted by the law in Sorrow, it didn’t seem likely that the man could have killed his business partner. As Bodie rode further north, the weather in the timberline became worse with endless snow that hampered his travel. Being Bodie he pushed on and rode into gunfire, treachery and found his way blocked by people who simply wanted him out of the way because he threatened their plans.

  With his prisoner wounded and finding it hard to figure out who was who, Bodie took on all comers until he faced down the people behind Sorrow’s troubles.

  It took all his skill and fortitude to bring everything into the open and make his own peace by the gun he carried and used well. He wouldn’t have been Bodie if he couldn’t.

  BODIE 11: THE GUNS OF SORROW

  By Neil Hunter

  Copyright © 2019 by Neil Hunter

  First Digital Edition: December 2019

  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

  Published by Arrangement with the Author.

  One

  Bodie hated cold weather with a vengeance. He was a warm weather lover. In fact the hotter the better, though he could even complain about that at times. But right at the moment the heat of the southwest desert would have been a damn sight more acceptable than what he was experiencing. Up north and approaching the border between the US and Canada, Montana and Saskatchewan the weather had taken on a vicious aspect. The frigid air held a promise of snow. He had already seen the blankets of white clinging to the dark peaks far ahead. The wind slicing through the timber, jabbing at his exposed face, taunted him with a promise of even more.

  Hunching his shoulders Bodie pulled his thick coat tighter. Gloved fingers tugged his hat brim down. It was only the promise of the bounty he would collect on delivering his prisoner that kept him going.

  An image of San Francisco rose in his mind, coupled with that of Ruby Keough. If he hadn’t picked up the pursuit of Henry Purcell he could have been spending more time with the young woman who had become a part of his life. Since meeting and becoming more attached to her Bodie admitted he was missing her company.

  Her vivacious character coupled with her auburn hair and hazel eyes haunted his thoughts as he guided his weary horse along a track that was near enough invisible. It had been a long trek across country. Made that much more problematic as the way became heavily studded with thick stands of timber and brush. Thinking of Ruby helped relieve the monotony of the ride. Which was not made easier because of the endless complaining of Bodie’s prisoner.

  Henry Purcell, young and vociferous, maintained his innocence. He did it continually, battering Bodie’s ears with his protestations concerning that innocence. He was cuffed at the wrists. Something told Bodie he wasn’t about to try and escape, yet his endless rant about his innocence made the manhunter’s ears ache. Bodie had told him to quit countless times. It made no difference. Purcell kept it up almost non-stop. The only time he ceased was when he slept. Once awake he started in again and Bodie simply concentrated on the journey, working his way north and wishing they could reach their destination so he could pass Purcell over to the law in the oddly named town of Sorrow.

  The settlement lay a couple of miles from the border with Canada. In deeply forested land and had a tract of land where the business of logging maintained a presence. Sorrow lived and breathed timber. It was the sole reason for its existence. Every man, every woman, had a hand in the logging business, and they protected it zealously.

  Bodie had that to learn yet. Right then all he was concerned with was delivering Henry Purcell to Sorrow, collecting his bounty and being on his way back down the mountain to a more welcome place.

  That was his intention. Nothing less, nothing more. He had no deeper interest in Sorrow than that.

  It might have stayed that way if someone hadn’t decided to shoot Henry Purcell.

  Two

  The shot came from ahead of them. To their left and from a slightly higher spot somewhere in the densely-packed trees.

  Purcell uttered a hoarse cry, twisting in his saddle and falling from it.

  The distant puff of powder smoke galvanized Bodie into action. He yanked his rifle to his shoulder and laid a sustained burst of fire in the direction of the shooter. He couldn’t have been sure but he thought he heard a distant yell. He might have hit someone. Couldn’t be sure. He might have gone after the shooter if Purcell hadn’t been his main concern.

  Bodie swung from the saddle, pushing aside Purcell’s horse and bent over the man. He saw the wound, already a bloody hole in the coat Purcell wore and an equally bloodier one in back where the bullet had come out. Ragged shreds of cloth. Torn flesh intermingled with the material. It was going to be a messy wound to deal with.

  Mercifully Purcell had lapsed into unconsciousness. Bodie took hold of the man’s coat and dragged him to a sheltered spot where trees grew close. He wedged Purcell into a sitting position, then returned to his waiting horse and pulled off his possibles bag.

  As he stepped back to where his wounded prisoner lay still and silent Bodie felt the first flakes of snow touch his cheeks. When he glanced skywards he saw the misty show of more starting to fall.

  ‘Damn,’ he said. That was all he needed.

  As the fall thickened he used the time to gather the makings for a fire. There was a plentiful supply around him and Bodie quickly set a fire. Poured canteen water into his blackened pot and set it over the flames.

  Rinsing his hands after removing his gloves he turned his attention to Purcell. Bodie removed the cuffs from his wrists. Opened the man’s clothing and exposed the bloody wound. Examined it and saw the bullet had missed bone on its way through. He doused the wound back and front with whisky from the bottle he carried. It was the best he could do. He wrapped the wounds in whisky-soaked cloth he carried in his first aid bundle, then bound the shoulder with bandage. He pulled the blanket roll from behind Purcell’s saddle and covered him with it.

  By the time he had completed the task, Purcell was stirring and the water in the pot was starting to boil. Bodie added a handful of Arbuckle’s coffee to the water and left it to brew as he pulled Purcell’s clothing back in place.

  The snowfall was thickening around them. Bodie added more gathered wood to the fire. He took a quick swallow of whisky from the bottle. Felt he deserved it.

  He felt eyes on him.

  ‘Told you,’ Purcell said.

  His face had lost color. It had a pasty gray tinge to it.

  Bodie poured coffee into tin mugs. Added whisky to Purcell’s and handed it to his prisoner.

  ‘Doesn’t it make you curious?’ Purcell said.

  Bodie took a swallow of the hot coffee. He felt the cold touch of snow on his face and hands. A sudden shiver coursed through him. Nothing to do with the chill weather.

  ‘Man has to wonder why somebody took a shot at me,’ Purcell said.

  He took a swallow of coffee. Eyes fixed on Bodie. His head drooped as he succumbed to the weakness invading his body. He fought of the sensation.

  ‘Doesn’t it make you think something’s odd.’

  ‘Begs the question why anyone would take a shot at you,’ Bodie s
aid. He had to admit matters had changed some.

  ‘Because somebody’s worried I’m coming back to town.’

  That had already begun to creep into Bodie’s mind. But until he had some more information he wasn’t about to step away from his commitment to return Purcell to Sorrow.

  ‘And why would that be?’ Bodie said.

  ‘I been sayin’ it ever since you picked me up. Because I’m innocent.’

  It wasn’t the first time Bodie had heard it. It was the first time he really listened.

  ‘Mister, I got enough to hand without you causin’ me a heap of confusion. Not saying something’s going on but I’m here to take you in. ’Sides you just took a bullet. You need real doctoring. I’m no sawbones. That dressing I put on you ain’t going to help more’n a little while. We need to get you to Sorrow soon as.’

  Three

  Bodie straightened up. Pulled his gloves back on, took his rifle and checked the area. He wanted to take a look at where the shooter had been concealed.

  ‘Be back when I’ve had a look where that feller was hiding.’ He refilled Purcell’s mug. ‘Stay still and don’t disturb that wound.’

  He moved off without giving Purcell a chance to say anything. Pushing through the brush around the trees and cut off in the direction where the rifleman had been concealed. He followed the rise in the slope, breaking a trail through the snow that had already covered ground. He knew he was getting close when he heard the soft whicker of a horse. Picked up the rustle of disturbed brush. Bodie’s rifle rose and pointed before he picked out the bulk of a tethered horse. A solid, dark animal with a thick coat.

  Yards away, sprawled beside a thick boled tree, was the hunched shape of a man. He lay on his side, head turned so Bodie could see his face. A coarse beard shaded the lower half and his wide-open eyes stared unseeing at Bodie. He had taken a couple of .44-40 shots in his chest. They had punched through the dark coat he had been wearing and had bled some before his heart gave out. A much-used Henry rifle lay close by, his right hand touching the stock, the lever at half cock.

  Bodie sighed. A dead man was all he needed to add to his problems. He leaned his rifle against a trunk, gathered the dead man’s coat and hauled him up off the ground. The man was surprisingly light. Walking to the waiting horse Bodie draped the loose corpse over the horse, uncoiled the rope hanging from the saddle and tied the dead man in place. He retrieved his rifle and the dead man’s, sliding the Henry into the saddle sheath. Taking the reins he turned about and made his way back to where he had left Purcell.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  Bodie nodded. ‘He played a game and lost.’

  Purcell struggled to sit up, face twisting in pain. He studied the dead man for a time.

  ‘My god, it’s Dan Preece.’

  ‘You know him then.’

  ‘He was one of the bunch who pointed the finger. Said I did the killing back in Sorrow. Works for Lance Markham.’

  Bodie tied the horse to a low branch, put away his Winchester then poured himself fresh coffee.

  ‘He ain’t pointing now,’ he said’

  This time Purcell didn’t answer. Bodie glanced his way and saw the man had slumped on his side, letting his mug of coffee slip from his hand. He looked the man over. Purcell was unconscious, his breath shallow. Bodie made sure the blanket was pulled tight around him. He added more fuel to the fire.

  Overhead the leaden sky dropped more snow over them. If it hadn’t been for the cover of the close growing trees the fall would have covered them more than it had.

  ‘Got yourself cornered real tight this time son,’ Bodie said.

  He pulled his coat collar high and buttoned it tight. Clearing the tree line Bodie took a look around. Thick forest. Heavy snowfall. The town of Sorrow lay ahead and nothing was playing into his hands right there and then.

  He thought about Henry Purcell.

  Since the shooting Bodie had been considering the man’s situation. He had been posted as a wanted man. Accused of killing a man in Sorrow. He had protested his innocence and Bodie had closed his ears to that. Because every fugitive he had ever gone after did just that.

  Now though there was some doubt.

  The man who had put his shot into Purcell must have had his reasons. Someone out simply for revenge? An acquaintance of the dead people seeking his own retribution? Or wanting to prevent Purcell reaching town for other causes? To stop him exposing something that needed covering up?

  Thin facts, Bodie admitted, but with enough reason to push doubt into the man hunter’s mind. Getting Purcell to town was still his prime motivation. Yet the doubt in Bodie’s mind was enough to add caution to whatever he did next.

  About to turn back to cover Bodie stopped in his tracks as he made out movement ahead. A blurred shape emerging from the snowfall. It formed into a horse and rider. Heading directly for him. A slight figure covered in a heavy buckskin coat that all but swamped the rider.

  A rider who held a large rifle. The muzzle aimed directly at Bodie.

  Four

  ‘Stay where you are.’

  A hard command that Bodie complied to. The rifle held steady on him was no toy. Even through the drifting snow Bodie recognized the configuration.

  A sharps Big 50. The buffalo hunter’s favorite weapon capable of putting a man down with a large hole in him. It was a rifle Bodie knew well. One to respect. It was a killing weapon with little to equal it.

  The other thing he noticed was the voice of the person holding the Sharps.

  It was a woman’s. Clear and steady. No nonsense words coupled with the formidable weapon to make the man hunter take note.

  ‘Ma’am, I’m not about to go anywhere. I got a man back in those trees been shot. I aim to get him to Sorrow and have a doctor look at him.’

  The rider moved closer. Bodie could see a pale face staring at him. Eyes fixed on him.

  ‘I heard more than one shot. Anything to do with you?’

  ‘I threw some lead at the feller who opened up on us. Put him down and hauled him back to our camp. You come and take a look. I have him tied down over his horse.’

  ‘You fooling with me?’

  Bodie held his hand clear of his holstered pistol.

  ‘No fooling, ma’am. Right now I got no time to be fooling with anyone.’

  Bodie turned and headed back to where he had his camp. Right now his priority was getting Purcell back to Sorrow. He needed to move before the falling snow cut him off from town. He checked Purcell. The man was still unconscious. It was time to move.

  He sensed rather than saw the woman moving up behind him, the Sharps still pointing his way. She stepped by him and looked the dead man over.

  ‘Dan Preece,’ he heard her say. Then she crossed to Purcell, a shocked gasp coming from her as she recognized him as well but made no kind of confirmation ‘How bad hurt is he?’

  ‘Shot went all the way through. No broken bone but it’s left nasty holes and he spilled a deal of blood.’

  ‘He needs doctoring. Best we take him to my place. Closer than trying for Sorrow in the storm.’

  ‘Your place?’

  ‘My cabin. We can make it before dark...’ For the first time she lowered the rifle. ‘I won’t shoot you unless there’s any foolishness.’

  Bodie quickly broke camp. He doused the fire and indicate Purcell.

  ‘Give me a hand to get him on his horse.’

  Purcell had recovered enough he was able to slowly sit up after Bodie bound his arm tight to his body. With the woman’s help Bodie boosted him into the saddle. He mounted himself and leaned over to support Purcell. The young woman sheathed her rifle and mounted up, leading the way across the snow-misted ground. Out in the open they faced the full snowfall. It was already thick under the hoofs of their plodding horses and from the heavy look of the sky it didn’t seem to be easing off.

  Purcell swayed in his saddle, clinging to the pommel, reins held loosely in his hand. He rode with his head down on his chest, ob
livious to his surroundings.

  The woman rode with confidence, negotiating the way ahead. It was plain she knew the terrain.

  As well as she knew Purcell?

  Bodie wondered what the connection was. He pushed that to the back of his mind. Now was not the time to raise questions. That would come once they had the wounded man under cover and doctored.

  A long half hour pushing through a heavily-timbered tract brought them out on a level stretch, ringed by more trees and brush.

  ‘Sorrow is that way,’ the woman said with a sweep of her arm. ‘Still a good distance and it will be dark soon. Light goes fast up here this time of year. Nights are long. Freezing temperatures too.’

  The snow was already a couple of feet deep in the open. More dropping as they crossed in the direction of a long, wide cabin. Bodie took it all in as they approached. A solid building constructed from timber with a roofed cover between it and the equally sturdy stable and lean to. A corral jutted out from the stable.

  The woman slid from her saddle and walked to the cabin door, unlatching it and pushing it open.

  ‘Bring him inside then stable the horses.’

  Five

  Bodie did what she asked, easing Purcell off his horse and carrying him with ease inside the cabin. It was a well-appointed place. Tidy and neatly furnished. The woman pointed to a wide couch and Bodie stretched Purcell on it.

  He turned and left the cabin, gathering reins and leading the horses into the stable. Shadows were lengthening by this time. He found a lamp hanging from a nail on an upright. Scratched a match and lit the wick. The interior was roomy, with four empty stall. Bodie took the dead man from his horse and carried the body to the furthest corner of the stable, covering it with a horse blanket. He led each horse into a stall and unsaddled them. There was feed and a water barrel. He put out feed for the animals, added water to the troughs. Took a time to wipe the snow off the animals. With that done he gathered rifles and saddlebags. Took the possibles bags and blanket rolls as well. Loaded down he stepped out of the stable, secured the doors and tramped across to the cabin, letting himself in.