by Neil Hunter
Lowery’s lean face flushed with excitement. “Maybe we can do something about Skellhorn and his alliance, Major,” he said. “Something like a late night call from a few community-minded citizens!”
Butler smiled. “That should make an impression on Skellhorn. Shake him up a little. Put the fear of God in the whole of Kittyhawk Creek!”
“Leave it to me, Major,” Lowery said. “I’ll arrange a visit for tonight. By the time the boys have finished, Skellhorn’s going to think the sky’s fallen in on him.”
Butler left the office, satisfied that he had things moving nicely. He made his way back to where he’d left his horse. He was just freeing the reins when a shadow fell, across him. Glancing up he recognized Lee Haddon looking down at him from the back of his horse.
“What you doing in town, Lee?”
Haddon cuffed his hat to the back of his head. “Looking for you, Major,” he said. “We got troubles.”
Butler climbed into the saddle and motioned for Haddon to ride alongside of him as they left town. “So?”
“It’s Jody,” Haddon told him.
Butler sighed. “I figured as much. What’s he up to now?”
“He’s sayin’ he ain’t staying up on the canyon any longer, Major. Not even for you. Major, it’s hard on the boys having to put up with his bad mouthin’ ’em all day.”
“Goddamn that miserable…” Butler caught himself. He threw a hard look at Haddon. “We’ll ride back to the ranch and then I’ll come up to the canyon with you. Jody’s going to stay right there until I tell him to come down. He’ll do it if I have to beat the hide off him.” A look of regret crossed his face. “Maybe that’s what I should have done years back, Lee. Instead I indulged him. I gave him too much money and too much freedom, and look what it’s made of him.”
“Hell, Major, it ain’t your fault,” Haddon said. “A man’s either got the making in him or he ain’t. Jody - well, beggin’ your pardon, Major, he just ain’t got what it takes.”
“Anyway, Lee, I’m grateful for what you and the boys have done. Getting him out of Pine Ridge and sending that bounty hunter packing. That was loyalty I won’t forget”
“Hell of a thing to have happened in the first place,” Haddon admitted. “Beating up on that feller Gower would have been enough - but Jody turnin’ round and blowing him apart just caught us on the hop.”
“It was a stupid thing to do,” Butler said. “No justification at all. That’s why Jody has to stay out of sight until time goes by and I can see what I can do.”
They left Elkhorn far behind, curving off into the dense wooded slopes of the mountains, following the well defined trail that led directly to Butler’s vast range. Soon they were crossing wide grassy meadows dotted with huge herds of contented cattle, each wearing the Circle-B brand. His home ranch lay an hour’s ride from town, on the extreme edge of Butler’s range.
The ranch complex was a huge affair, almost a small village, with its numerous buildings and corrals. There was a cluster of small huts belonging to married members of Butler’s staff. The bunkhouse itself could house close on forty men. There were huge feed barns, great stables, a wagon shed. There was a well-equipped blacksmith’s forge as well as a carpenter shop, where the skilled craftsmen had the capability to make anything in wood, from a simple chair all the way up to a complete wagon. The main house was the central feature of the place. Though only two storeys high it had spread over a large area, since the original structure had been extended and added to over the years. It was built of local stone, masterfully blended with wood, and stood as a monument to the achievements of the man who owned it. Like the house, Butler himself was solid and unmovable, capable of withstanding any storm, resistant to change, unbending, unyielding.
“Lee, give me half an hour, then we’ll take a ride up to the canyon and settle this matter with Jody,” Butler said as he dismounted before the house.
Haddon nodded. He took the reins of Butler’s horse and led it off to the stable to be looked after by the old Mexican who had been with the Major right from the start.
Butler went inside the house. He tossed his hat on a chair, unbuttoning his coat as he crossed the polished wooden floor of the spacious living room. He poured himself a drink and went to stand in front of the wide fireplace. On the wall over the fireplace hung a large oil painting. The picture was of a young and beautiful girl. Butler raised his eyes and studied the painting, all the old memories flooding back. It happened every time he looked at the image of his late wife. Twelve years she’d been dead now and he missed her more with each passing day. The painting had been his wedding present to her. She had been nineteen when they had married, and she had died on her forty-sixth birthday. Jody had been their only child, coming late, and while Butler’s wife had been alive she had doted on the boy. Butler himself had contributed towards this, mainly because it made his wife happy; and her happiness meant everything to him. Her death turned life sour. There was a vast, aching emptiness he had to fill, so he plunged himself even deeper into increasing his power, his property, because it was the only thing left for him.
He quickly found out Jody’s inability to turn his hand to anything except cards and whisky and girls. Butler masked his disappointment and devoted himself to full-time involvement with his spread. He knew now that he’d been wrong. Giving Jody his freedom, money, the time to indulge himself, had been the wrong way. The fact was proven out now - with Jody killing someone - and no matter how he felt about his son he was determined to get him out of this mess one way or another. Whether Jody liked it or not.
Chapter Six
“When are you leaving?” Jonas Wayland asked.
“In about an hour,” Bodie replied. “Less if you stop asking your damn fool questions.”
Wayland ignored the jibe. “Doctor Fullerton tells me he won’t be responsible for any setbacks. Apparently you hurt his feelings when you suggested an alternative place for keeping his stethoscope.”
Bodie thumbed in the final bullet and snapped the loading gate shut, spinning the Colt’s cylinder. He jammed the gun into his holster and hooked the hammer loop in place.
“I’ve already wasted ten days,” he snapped. “Damned if I’m going to waste any more.”
“It isn’t going to be easy getting close to Jody Butler this time,” Wayland pointed out.
Bodie managed a cold smile. “You mean last time was easy?” He touched his fingers to the still-healing bruises on his face. “I’d swear I got these somewhere.”
“What I was trying to point out, Bodie, is that Jody Butler will have the protection of his father’s not inconsiderable crew. And every man the Major employs has to be as good with a gun as he is with a trail herd - if not better.”
“Wayland, I know what you’re getting at,” Bodie said. “But it ain’t going to make any difference this time how many folk Jody Butler has round him. I figure to bring him in. I made a mistake last time round and I paid for it. But one thing about me, Wayland, is that I never make the same mistake a second time. I learn each time I do something wrong. What I learned this time was hammered home pretty deep. It means that the next time I put my eyes on Jody Butler or any of those bastards who were with him I put them down fast. No talk. No fuss.”
“I hope that doesn’t mean you intend to bring Jody Butler back dead, Bodie.”
“Mister, it means I don’t intend to give that little pissant one thin chance. And if that’s going to upset your hanging party - well hard luck on you. If I bring him back dead, Wayland, I figure you’ll hang him anyway, just for the pure hell of it!”
Wayland scowled at the thought. “Likely I will at that,” he snapped.
Bodie picked up his gear, tucking his Winchester under one arm. He opened the door of his room. “You fixin’ to stay, Mister Wayland?”
Wayland strode past him. Bodie closed the door and followed the man downstairs. At the desk Bodie handed over his key.
“Your horse is outside, Mister Bodie. Saddled
and ready,” the desk clerk told him.
Bodie fastened on his saddlebags and jammed his rifle in the scabbard. He checked the saddle-girth before he mounted up. Wayland was standing on the edge of the boardwalk, a bleak look in his eyes.
“Something stuck in your craw, Wayland?” Bodie asked.
“I was just thinking about the injustice you’ll do this town by bringing Jody Butler back already dead!”
Bodie squared the brim of his hat down over his eyes. “Tough, Wayland, but it’s gone beyond just being another bounty. Right now I aim to bring Jody Butler in for my own reasons. Your damn town and its hanging fever just got shoved down to second place. Be seeing you, Mister Wayland, and you can count on that!”
He left the town behind him, following roughly the same route he’d taken before. For the first couple of hours his stiff body refused to accept the discomfort of a hard saddle, but later Bodie found he was adjusting to being up and about again. He knew he’d been right to quit Pine Ridge. He had spent well over a week putting up with the doctor’s petty restrictions, done nothing but rest. The first few days he hadn’t argued - but soon after, once his body got over the initial shock of the savage beating, Bodie got that restless urge. He took to exercising a little each day. Never mind what the damn doctor said, he’d thought. I ain’t just sittin’ like some ninety-year-old and going stiff all over!
By the end of the first week most of the swellings had gone. His face and body were still discolored with bruises but Bodie was not about to go in for any beauty contests. He allowed himself one concession to the doctor’s advice and left on the tight bandage binding his torso. The doctor had checked him over and found that no ribs were actually broken as Bodie had thought they were. They were badly bruised and maybe one had a slight crack. All the doctor had been able to do was strap them up tight and wait for Nature to effect its cure. Bodie figured that by now Nature had had her chance, and he couldn’t hang on any longer.
He rode steadily, trailing up through the lower slopes of the Tetons, cutting through the timberline and out on to the high grass meadows, with the sheer peaks looming ahead of him all the time, framed against the sharp-bright, crystal mountain air. He rode across lush arenas of knee deep, sweet grass, skirted bottomless, placid lakes. He saw wild game in abundance and every stream and creek was thick with darting fish. He saw it all, and not for the first time did he try to figure out why men had to kill each other over land like this. There was plenty and enough for them all - but his own question provided the answer. Man, by his very nature, was a greedy son of a bitch, and he only had to take a look at something good to want it all for himself. He was never satisfied with a little. He had to take, and grab, and if he saw his neighbor had a slice just a little juicier, then he naturally had to reach out and take that too. Which led to the inevitable conflict.
Bodie took three days to reach Elkhorn. During the trip he ate well and got plenty of rest. He figured now was the time for these things because once he got to Elkhorn he might find himself on the busy side.
Mid-morning on the fourth day he was in the timbered hills above the town. He’d settled his horse out of sight, taken his rifle, and perched himself where he could watch the town without being spotted himself. Not that there appeared to be all that much to see. Elkhorn looked pretty much like a dozen other towns Bodie had seen. It was neat and clean, its streets set out in regular lines. It had a church and a school and a bank. Indications of its well-established existence. This was no prairie-dog town. No grubby border village. Elkhorn was a prim and proper, white-painted, Sunday-go-to-meeting type town. Or so it seemed on the surface. But according to what Bodie had heard it was a bought town. Paid for and run by one man with a lot of money and an equal amount of power.
Major Howard Butler.
The father of the man Bodie was looking for. Not that Butler’s alleged power, his wealth, meant a deal to Bodie. He wanted Jody Butler and the men who had ridden with him from Pine Ridge. And he was going to get them all - one way or another!
Bodie stayed up on the hill for a couple of hours. By the time he moved he had Elkhorn’s layout imprinted on his mind. He retrieved his horse and climbed into the saddle. He kept his rifle in his hand, resting it across the front of his saddle as he rode down out of the timber, picking up the trail that led into Elkhorn.
He entered at the south end of town, taking his horse up the dusty street as far as the Crystal Palace Saloon. Here he dismounted and tied his horse, keeping his rifle handy as he made his way inside the saloon. It was a large place, well furnished and decorated. Behind the long bar were high shelves all of them stacked with unopened bottles. Bodie made his way to the bar and signaled to one of the white-shirted bartenders.
“Beer,” he said.
The bartender brought it and watched Bodie drain half the contents down his throat. He flicked imaginary dust from his shirt cuff.
“Don’t recall seeing you in here before,” he ventured.
Bodie peered at him across the top of the glass. “Can’t say I recollect you, feller, but I ain’t about to let it get the better of me.”
The bartender laughed without too much conviction. “I only meant I didn’t figure you worked for one of the outfits round here.”
“That a rule before you can get a drink or something?”
The bartender frowned, not sure what he’d started, or how far it might go. He edged away from Bodie.
“Seeing as how you like talkin’, feller, you can tell me something,” Bodie said, catching hold of the bartender’s white shirtsleeve. “Which way to the Butler spread?”
“The Major’s?” the bartender queried.
“The one and only,” Bodie agreed.
“Straight on out of town. Head north. There’s a regular trail to the place. You can’t miss it.”
Bodie nodded, letting go of the bartender. “Thanks.”
He finished his beer and paid for it. Outside, on the saloon’s veranda he looked for a place to eat and spotted a restaurant a little way up the street. Bodie untied his horse and led it towards the restaurant. He figured he might as well eat now. No telling where his next meal might be coming from, or when. It was an old rule but a good one - eat while you can because the next mealtime might be a long way off. The same rule applied to sleep.
It could also be held true for something else, Bodie thought, grinning to himself. Hell, there were times when a man could find himself pretty short on that too! He tied his horse to the hitching post and went inside the restaurant A tall, boney girl with pale eyes and a too-wide mouth served him. Every time Bodie caught her eye, she grinned at him, smoothing her wrinkled dress down over her wide hips. Apart from that Bodie enjoyed the meal. It was well cooked and there was plenty of it. He finished off with two cups of black coffee. The gawky female brought his bill and took Bodie’s money with a final grin. Bodie picked up his rifle and left the place. He closed the door behind him and turned towards his waiting horse and walked right into three leveled, cocked guns.
“Ain’t no need for those, fellers, I paid for the meal,” Bodie said, taking in the sobering fact that each of the men had a bright silver badge pinned to his shirt.
“Smart mouths usually get rapped,” the middle one said, He was tall. Young and raw-boned. Thick, corn yellow hair hung down from his hat. He stared at Bodie with hooded blue eyes.
“Smack him in the mouth, Rick,” one of the others urged. He was a runty little man with a brown, wrinkled face. He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth in nervous anticipation.
The one called Rick blinked his hooded blue eyes. “Frank said to bring him in, Shorty, and that’s what we do.”
“We going somewhere, fellers?” Bodie asked.
“Marshal wants to see you,” Rick said. “I’d advise you to come along and don’t get smart. But first you hand over that rifle and the handgun.”
Bodie did as he was told. Only a damn fool tried to outsmart three cocked and leveled guns, and anyhow he figured it
would be worth a walk up the street to meet Elkhorn’s lawman.
“Vinnie,” Rick told the third man, “you bring his horse along.”
They made their way along to the impressive town jail. While the one called Vinnie saw to Bodie’s horse, the other two escorted Bodie inside the jail.
Elkhorn’s marshal, Frank Lowery, glanced up as Bodie was brought in. He eyed the tall man hunter, realizing that this man was no saddle tramp. Lowery leaned back in his seat, watching Bodie carefully.
“You were asking questions about the Butler spread,” Lowery said.
“There a law that says I shouldn’t?”
“Mister, all you need to know is that I’m the law in Elkhorn, and when I decide something needs looking into we look into it!” Lowery’s face tensed. “What’s your interest in the Butler spread?”
“That’s my business, Lowery, and unless you got a charge you can make stick I’m leaving!”
“The hell you are, mister!” Lowery yelled, half-rising from his seat. He jabbed a finger at Bodie. “I can toss you in a cell and forget about you if I want - and, mister, right now that’s just what I want!”
“I said we should have smacked him in the mouth!” said Shorty.
“Too late, Shorty,” grinned Rick, and without prior warning he lifted Bodie’s rifle and clubbed him across the skull with it.
Bodie stumbled forward, pain blazing at the back of his eyes. He collided with the front of the desk and caught a glimpse of Lowery’s brutal face leering at him. Bodie threw a wild swing at that face, but his timing was off and he missed. Then Rick clouted him a second time with the hard butt of the Winchester and the day went black. Bodie pitched forward, striking the desk and bouncing off on to the hard floor. He hit hard but he didn’t feel a damn thing. The pain came much later.