Bodie 11

by Neil Hunter

  The wind snatched his words away as he stepped off the boardwalk and made his way across the street, his passage hampered by the layered snow.

  Twenty

  Len Capshaw watched Bodie crossing in the direction of his store. He had seen the man leave Helga Regis restaurant and make a direct approach. Bodie reached the door and stepped inside, shaking snow off him.

  ‘I hear you are the man to tell me just what is going on in Sorrow, Mr. Capshaw.’

  Bodie moved to the counter, taking in the surroundings.

  Capshaw’s store looked to be in better condition than many Bodie had visited. He carried a large, variable stock. The place still had that recognized smell. The tang of leather goods, food spices and tobacco. They spoke of permanence. The welcome and the familiar. A stove in a clear corner offered warmth and even the smell of coffee from a large pot.

  Capshaw himself, a white apron over his clothing, studied Bodie with a curious expression. As if he was not quite sure who this stranger was – or what he wanted. He removed the steel-rimmed spectacles he wore.

  ‘And what would that be?’ Capshaw said.

  ‘Truth would be helpful, Mr. Capshaw. Appears to me there’re things going on in Sorrow I need to know. Over to the restaurant Miss Regis hinted at the problems this town has. Matters that seem to involve Marshal Bascombe and a feller called Markham. And why a man named Henry Purcell got himself accused of murdering his partner.’

  ‘Are you the law? Mister...?’

  ‘Name’s Bodie. I was bringing Henry Purcell back to Sorrow but circumstances changed and I’m trying to work out what the hell is going on in this town. And what’s in this name Sorrow?’

  ‘Before I say anything else can you tell me where Henry is? Is he safe?’

  ‘Right now he’s with Erica Kovacs at her place. Been wounded but he’s alive.’

  Capshaw stroked a hand through his thinning hair. Stared at Bodie while he took in what had been explained.

  ‘I figure Helga has told you some of the story.’

  ‘Enough to make me want more.’

  Capshaw crossed the store an poured out coffee for the both of them.

  ‘Until Markham came and set himself up in business Sorrow was doing fine. Business from the lumber mills. Farmers and some cattle. Then Markham showed up along with the men he employs. Things started to go wrong. Markham soon showed his hand. The man is out to own Sorrow. He has ties to the timber business. Rumor has it he brought in money from out of state. Maybe back east. And then his people started to put pressure on the locals. It was a simple enough strategy. He bought up everything he could. Anyone who wouldn’t do what he wanted was dealt with. Physical threats. Attacks by unknown men...though we all had our suspicions. If someone only rented their business property from Markham’s holdings they had their payments increased and increased again. It was pay up or get out.’

  ‘No good going to the town marshal?’

  ‘Vince Bascombe might wear a badge but he is Markham’s man. And a bully. Just like the men who take his orders.’

  ‘I already had dealings with Bascombe’s boys. Guns for hire.’

  ‘I’ve had them in here, offering money to buy me out. I refuse. I own this store free and clear. I’m beholden to no man. Markham is biding his time, but one day he will make his move. I’d sooner burn the store down than let Markham get his hands on it. He knows it so he’s holding back for the moment. But he won’t forever. Bodie, I’m a simple storekeeper. Not a fighting man. I may sell a few guns. I don’t use them.’

  ‘From what I’ve learned from Purcell he has gathered information that would bring Mr. Markham down. The reason Markham had him judged a killer.’

  ‘Ashley Cartwright. Henry’s partner. There’s no doubt in my mind Markham had Ashley killed simply to frame Henry. Gave him the chance to see Henry disposed of legally. If you could call anything Marshal Bascombe does as legal.’

  ‘Markham and Bascombe. A tough team to deal with,’ Bodie said. ‘But once a man knows his enemies it makes things clearer, Mr. Capshaw. A whole lot clearer.’

  Twenty-One

  The population of Sorrow knew well enough to stay indoors in the face of extreme weather. Watching from Capshaw’s store throughout the morning Bodie saw no more than a few hardy individual braving the snowstorm. During that time the store had no more than a couple of customers. They came in, spoke with Capshaw and made their purchase before braving the elements again.

  Bodie had made the decision to go and check out Markham’s place of business. It was way of possibly finding out information about the man. He saw little movement around the office.

  The light behind the window of Markham’s office suggested the man might still be there. Bodie eased into the side alley, meaning to find a back way in. He was fast losing patience with the way things were going. Right or wrong he needed to speed matters along.

  Close on midday Capshaw identified the man himself, wrapped up in a thick coat when Markham stepped out and made his way along the street.

  ‘Lance Markham,’ Capshaw said. ‘The man himself.’

  ‘My chance,’ Bodie said.

  He left the store and crossed the deserted street, taking the alley at the side of Markham’s office building. He found the side door to Markham’s building. Tried the handle. Found the door was unlocked and eased it open. He found himself in a store room. Cluttered with boxes. Bodie could see light showing under the door on the far side of the room. He crossed to it. saw it partway open and eased it wider. Markham’s office was empty. Stove burning. Lamps lit. A bottle of whisky and a half filled tumbler beside it.

  Bodie took a couple of steps into the office.

  Heard a soft sound to one side. Turned too slowly.

  A dark shape loomed out of the shadows in the corner of the room. Close. Too close for Bodie to avoid the sweeping arm and the object in its hand.

  Something hard and solid that struck him across the back of his skull. Hard. Bodie had no chance to protect himself. The blow was hard. It plunged him into a rising rush of darkness. Bodie knew he was falling and there was a moment it seemed that fall would go on endlessly. Then it all turned to darkness and he knew nothing else...

  When he finally regained some semblance of order Bodie opened his eyes and found himself on the back of a horse. His hands were tied behind his back. So tight the circulation was near enough cut off. He took in his surroundings. A forested area. It was still snowing. Underfoot the layer on the ground was deep. The sky he could see through the trees still held the gray cast that told him there was still more to come.

  Bodie had a sullen pulse of pain across the back of his head where he had been struck. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. Or where he was beyond Sorrow.

  He saw he was being led by a rider to one side of him. The man, with a wide and heavy build, held the lead rope tied to Bodie’s horse. The man rode steadily with a patience that said he knew exactly where he was. Not lost, or even worried he might get off his trail.

  That was more than Bodie knew. He had no idea where they were and something told him the idea of this little ride was to make sure he didn’t go back to Sorrow.

  He called himself all kinds of a fool for simply walking into the setup Markham had laid out for him. But Bodie didn’t dwell on the mistake. He had made the mistake. By himself and couldn’t point the finger elsewhere. Following on from that Bodie looked at what he needed to do to get himself out of the situation.

  He worked his wrists to test the rope binding. Thick rope. Not the best to allow for the most severe knots. Bodie worked on the binding and after a couple of minutes he felt the rope slacking off. Bodie kept up the movement and managed to slip his wrists from the coils. He allowed some time for the circulation to flow again, flexing his fingers and thanked whoever had been responsible for tying him up.

  Bodie’s captor led the horses up a shallow bank where a wide stream cut across their path, easing back on his reins as his own mount hesitate
d. He mumbled something, leaning back and Bodie saw a chance developing. He made the most of it.

  Bodie gathered himself and lunged at the rider. He slammed against the man, throwing his arms around the body and pushed them both clear of the horses. The thick snow took some of the fall but it was still a hard landing. Bodie managed a couple of solid blows to the side of the rider’s head that left him cursing wildly as he struggled to get out from under the man hunter. His struggle was a success as he bucked Bodie clear, rolling himself to his feet and coming back at Bodie in a headlong rush. They collided with a solid thump, each attempting to gain the upper hand, fists sledging back and forth. Feet slipping and sliding in the snow covered grasses.

  Bodie caught a solid right that turned him sideways. Heard his opponent gasp with triumph.

  ‘Son of a bitch, I got you now. Ain’t no man goin’ to beat Kris Benedict in a stand up fight.’

  He launched another powerful fist that Bodie avoided, returning the punch with one of his own that split Benedict’s lower lip. Benedict’s bloody face twisted in rage. Even as Bodie threw up his hands to ward off the bulky shape he knew he was too late. Benedict slammed into him, throwing every pound of his solid weight at the man hunter. Despite being ready Bodie felt his breath gust from him as Benedict struck. Together the pair went backwards, slamming to the hard ground in a white flurry of snow. Sliding over the frozen surface they went over the edge of the slope, breaking through the snowbound barrier of the brush and fell into open space, dropping for long yards before they hit the slope. Twisting, turning, they toppled down the uneven incline, lost in the mist of snow that went with them. With little time to control their descent they crashed to the bottom, coming to rest in the ice covered stream at the base, shattering the layer. The broken ice dropped them into the stream below. The sudden cold of the water soaking through their clothing shocked them into immobility for a few moments until realization hit them and they struck out at each other, fists and legs flailing as each man sought to gain the upper hand. Stung by the blows and shocked by the frigid water they fought on, neither man giving an inch. They grappled with a fury that was driven by the simple need to survive.

  Benedict, roaring out his anger, swung a big fist that caught Bodie on the jaw. He tasted blood from a tooth biting his inner cheek. The hard punch snapped him out of the brief paralysis of the icy water and he returned the blow, slamming in a punch of his own that connected with Benedict’s nose, blood rushing down his chin. His head snapped back, leaving him unguarded and Bodie put in a couple more blows that staggered the man. They failed to put Benedict down. He simply stepped back, feet slipping on the smooth rocks below the surface of the stream before he set himself and hit back, catching Bodie on the jaw. He fell back, spitting blood, and returned Benedict’s hard blow. His bunched fists landed on Benedict’s already bloody nose, causing more damage. Benedict roared in pain, shaking his head and spraying blood in every direction. With the momentary advantage Bodie leaned forward, throwing another bunched fist that hammered over Benedict’s ribs, Bodie followed with a barrage of blows, driving in at the man’s ribs until Benedict stumbled away in an attempt to avoid any more punishment. Not wanting to give the man a clear break Bodie launched himself forward, slamming into Benedict. His arms encircled the man’s body with a solid thump. Benedict lost his balance and fell back, taking Bodie with him. They hit the water, briefly sliding beneath the surface, and Bodie hung on determined not to be shaken off. The thigh-deep water swallowed them, the sheer cold making them gasp. Benedict, his mouth wide in pain, took in water that filled his throat and began to panic, threshing about as he tried to dislodge Bodie. The man hunter had taken a breath as they fell and closed his mouth to maintain the deep breath. It gave him the advantage and he hung on to Benedict knowing the man would be fighting back against the water entering his lungs. Bubble of air escaped Benedict’s lips as he struggled to get himself clear of the water. Bodie was equally determined to keep him there as they turned and twisted, each man desperate to stay in control of the other. Bodie’s own lungs were starting to react to the lack of air but he fought against the urge to get himself clear until Benedict began to weaken, bubbles erupting from his mouth. His arm and leg thrashing slowed and finally ceased. Bodie allowed himself to rise, his head clearing the water and he sucked in deep breaths, chest heaving. He pushed himself upright, freezing water cascading from his soaked clothing as he stepped away from Benedict’s body floating in the stream. Still sucking clean air in Bodie waded to the bank of the stream and staggered onto dry land, stumbling and suddenly becoming aware of the biting cold.

  He knew if he didn’t do something he would freeze to death. Bodie cut across to where Benedict had tethered the horses, trying to ignore the powerful shivers racking his body. He dragged blanket rolls from both horses and shook them out. Wrapped himself in the blankets and stamped around to keep his circulation going, desperate to resist the enveloping cold. With near-numb fingers he opened Benedict’s saddlebags and tugged out the creased clothing he found. Benedict’s clothing was far bigger than anything Bodie might normally wear but it was dry. He draped the shirt and pants across his horse’s back. Getting his boots off was a struggle he finally managed. Taking off the blankets he stripped out of his sodden clothing and long-johns. Naked he used one of the blankets to dry himself as much as he could before pulling on the dry clothing. It took a long time and he was still trembling with cold when he finally pulled on his coat and fumbled the buttons in place. Stamped his feet into his damp boots.

  He kept up a silent litany of the choicest words in his vocabulary. It helped take his mind off the situation.

  Bodie checked Benedict’s saddlebags again. The man’s belongings didn’t offer a great deal of interest except for a squat bottle of whisky that eased some of the chill when he took a swallow. Bodie stripped off the saddle and trappings and let the horse run free.

  He pulled his gun rig from where Benedict had wrapped it around his own saddle horn and strapped it on, making sure it was fully loaded. Did the same with Benedict’s sheathed rifle. He saw his hat lying in the snow and retrieved it.

  Bodie took another pull from the whisky bottle, slipping it into his coat pocket before hauling himself onto the horse and turned it back the way he and Benedict had come.

  He thought about Erika and Henry Purcell. Markham’s intentions were clear to him. He would want them both off his hands once he retrieved the evidence Purcell had gathered. The man had proved his determination to remove anyone who might jeopardize his plans. He had too much riding on his scheme. He and his distant partners were desperate to get their hands on the logging concessions around Sorrow. They had put in too much work to allow matters to slide. Seeing the great amounts of money on offer would simply add to their mission to succeed. Anyone who might get in their way was going to be removed.

  Or so they were thinking.

  Twenty-Two

  Bodie pulled the blankets closer around him, trying to get past the deep cold invading his body. He tightened his grips on the reins and concentrated his mind on the thoughts fighting for space in his tired mind. Thoughts that were overlapping and seeming to evade his attempts to make sense of them.

  Names and faces jostled for his attention.

  Henry Purcell.

  Erika Kovacs.

  Marshal Bascombe

  He recalled Silvis Bedloe.

  And Lance Markham.

  They all crowded in on him. Not helping his condition. Maybe too many for him to handle while he tried to fight off the weariness in his body.

  Bodie felt his horse falter, stumbling as it pushed its way through the deepening snow. He pulled back on the reins and the horse stood motionless.

  He stared around him. Seeing only the spread of white. The thick snow that obscured landmarks that might show him where he was. He began to accept he might be totally lost. A thin smile touched his lips at the thought. He had come to Sorrow under the story he had been lost. If things went
the way they seemed that was going to become true.

  Maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are.

  Bodie drew rein and stared around him. Above the tree line the sky held a gray cast, even that misted over by the falling snow. He ignored the heavy snowfall. All he needed was some sign of his position. An indication of where he was in relation to Sorrow.

  ‘Son, you sure got yourself in a fix this time.’ He leaned forward and patted the horse’s neck. ‘Horse, I guess you don’t know the way back either?’

  The words resonated with him. Maybe there was a way back. It was not unknown for horses to find their way home. An instinct that was part of the animal’s makeup. Bodie felt a little foolish but in his present situation he was willing to try anything.

  ‘Let’s go, fella. Back to home,’ he said. ‘Show me you’re as smart as I’m giving you credit for. Home, boy.’

  He let the reins go slack in his hands and gripped the saddlehorn, relaxing his body and gently touched his heels to the horse’s side. The animal stood its ground for a little time, then surprised Bodie by starting forward. Without any guidance from its rider the horse turned slightly and chose a path of its own accord. Bodie let it go and did no more than tug his hat lower and shield himself by dragging the blankets closer around his body. Within minutes snow had settled around him, forming a dense cover across his shoulders and back. It might have been barely noon but the light was obscured by the dense forest and the heavy drift of snow.

  Cold began to invade Bodie’s body. He wanted it to go away but he couldn’t prevent it. The insidious way it happened, the slow numbness that took over the living body. Taking away resistance and letting a creeping sensation reduce the natural strength of his body. Bodie was barely aware of it starting to close down. He began to experience a warmth that was far from life sustaining. Even time became lost to him. It drifted by without his real knowledge. Bodie hunched over in his saddle, his hands closed tightly around the saddlehorn. He began see the snowy forest in a soft light. The enclosing stands of timber seeming to draw closer, crowding him. Trees and sky merged. Bodie leaned forward, almost touching the neck of the plodding horse. The snow-laden twilight drew him into its silent embrace and Bodie had no resistance left. The only lucid thought that registered was how much time had passed.