by Neil Hunter
Chapter Seven
He had a terrible headache when he woke up. He was lying on a hard bunk, with only a thin mattress beneath him, and he knew damn well that he was in one of the cells at the rear of Elkhorn’s jail.
Bodie lay still. He couldn’t be certain but he was sure someone was watching him through the bars, and he didn’t want anyone to know he was awake. Out of the corner of his eye he was able to see out through the small barred window set high in the stone wall. The sky was rapidly darkening. That meant he’d been out for a good few hours. The deputy named Rick had really put some weight behind that clout, Bodie realized, and decided to remember that. Things weren’t going too well for him at present. He’d hardly been in Elkhorn for more than a couple of hours and here he was locked up in the damn jail! Maybe you’re losing your touch, he told himself. First you get yourself beaten to a pulp and then get tossed in the pokey. Not exactly the way to convince yourself you’ve still got what it takes.
He heard a door open and close quietly not too far off. A man approached the cell.
“He awake yet?” It was Rick’s voice.
“He ain’t moved a muscle all the time I been watchin’,” The second man was the one called Shorty. “Hell, Rick, maybe the son of a bitch is dead! You laid that rifle on him damned hard!”
“Balls!” Rick muttered softly. “He’s got a thick skull.”
“Well if he ain’t awake by the time Frank gets back here with the Major we’ll be likely finding out how thick yours is!”
“Yeah?” There was a pause - then: “Unlock that goddamn door, Shorty, I’ll find out whether he’s awake or not! Just keep your gun handy!”
A key rattled in the lock. Bodie heard the door creak as it was swung open, and he grinned wolfishly into the shadows as he heard Rick cross the stone floor of the cell. Just keep coming, you son of a bitch, Bodie begged. Come and see what I got for you! One way or the other something was going to be decided in the next few minutes. If that cell door was unlocked, then Bodie was going to do everything in his power to get out through it. Because he’d had his gutful of being knocked around and generally treated as if he was nothing more than a...
“The bastard’s breathing anyhow.” Rick’s voice came from just above Bodie, right alongside the bunk.
Bodie felt Rick’s hand on his shoulder. The deputy began to roll Bodie away from the wall, turning him over on to his back so he could see Bodie’s face. Bodie didn’t resist. He let his body turn, waiting until he was facing Rick, and hoped that his legs hadn’t got cramped from lying on the bunk for so long because he was going to look a real idiot if he leapt up off the bunk and fell flat on his face.
“Well?” Shorty asked. “He awake or what?”
Damn right I’m awake, Bodie agreed silently, then dragged his right leg back and then forward, the heel of his boot smashing into Rick’s stomach. The big deputy let out a strangled scream as raw pain exploded through his body. He was driven back across the cell, his arms waving uselessly as he tried to regain his balance. He saw Bodie’s tall figure erupt off the bunk, coming at him in a wild lunge, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop the man.
Bodie drove his left shoulder into Rick’s chest. He could see the open cell door at Rick’s back, and the other deputy – Shorty, halfway through, his gun waving about in his raised fist. Shorty couldn’t fire because Rick was in the way and Bodie wanted the situation to stay that way for the time being, There was a moment when it seemed Shorty was going to get by Rick’s stumbling figure. But then Rick slammed up against the cell’s open door. His heavy body swung the door shut.
“Hey!” Shorty yelled as the solid frame of the iron door drove at him. His cry was cut off abruptly as the edge of the door hit him across the side of the face with a meaty thud. Blood poured from the long gash in his cheek, soaking the collar of his shirt. Shorty tried to drag himself back through the door and almost managed it - but Bodie, seeing the deputy’s retreat, put his foot against the door and gave it a vicious shove. There was a crunch of breaking bone as Shorty’s right arm was caught between door and frame. Shorty let out a shrill scream. The fingers of his hand opened in a spasm of pain and his gun clattered to the floor of the cell. Bodie twisted away from Rick’s sagging figure. He scooped up the gun and turned back towards Rick as the deputy took an uncertain step away from the cell door. Rick’s face was ashen, his mouth hanging open as he tried to suck air into his lungs. He didn’t even lift his hands to protect himself as Bodie stepped in close, swinging the gun in his hand like a club. The barrel slammed across Rick’s skull: once, twice, then again. Rick went down like a felled tree and Bodie was sure he felt the building shudder as he hit the stone floor. Reaching out Bodie yanked open the cell door. Shorty was clinging to one of the bars. His right arm hung limply at his side. The sleeve, from the elbow down, was sodden with blood and it was dripping from Shorty’s fingers in a constant stream.
“You bastard!” Shorty sobbed. “You broke it - you broke my goddamn arm you bastard!”
Bodie tried to look sympathetic even while he was sledging his fist across Shorty’s jaw. The deputy rolled along the bars of the cell. Bodie had to hit him three times before he went down.
Bodie made his way along the passage leading to the front of the jail. He checked that the office was empty before he stepped through. It took him a couple of minutes to locate his gun belt and his rifle. Bodie strapped the belt on and checked the Colt. He did the same with the rifle, and then he made for the door.
It opened before he reached it. Lowery’s third deputy - the one called Vinnie - stepped into the office. He took one look at Bodie and began to yell, reaching for the gun on his hip.
Bodie was on him before the gun was even halfway out of the holster. His right fist caught Vinnie under the point of his jaw, the impact snapping Vinnie’s head back and lifting his feet clear off the floor. Vinnie crabbed sideways along the wall, trying to regain his balance. Bodie swung a booted foot and knocked Vinnie’s legs from beneath him. Vinnie bounced as he hit the floor, throwing out a hand to try and ward Bodie off. Bodie easily avoided the hand, lashing out with his foot again. The heel of his boot caught Vinnie in the head. There was a dull thud as Vinnie’s skull rapped hard against the stone wall of the office, leaving a bloody stain behind.
Bodie turned towards the door and flung it open. He stepped outside. As he did a gun exploded behind him, the bullet ripping a white chunk of wood from the door frame. Bodie snatched out his Colt, twisting round. On the far side of the office, lurching out through the doorway leading to the cell block, was Rick. He was staggering drunkenly. Blood was streaming down his face, soaking his shirt. But he had a gun in his fist and he was capable of using it Bodie didn’t hesitate. He snapped off a single shot, saw the bullet strike Rick in the chest. The impact of the heavy .45 bullet twisted Rick around, bouncing him off the wall. Bloody debris erupted from the pulpy hole in Rick’s broad back as he slid down the wall and curled up in a wriggling heap on the blood-spattered floor.
The second he saw his bullet hit the target Bodie turned and ran across the street. He wanted to get as far as he could from the jail before anyone else came out. By a lucky chance the street was deserted, this being the time in early evening when the stores had just closed and people were sitting down to the last meal of the day. Bodie knew his luck couldn’t hold for too long. The sound of the shooting would bring the curious and the morbid out for a look - he wanted to be out of sight before that happened. He reached the shadows of the boardwalk on the far side of the street and moved steadily away from the jail. In the distance he heard somebody yell and knew that the street would be filled with people very shortly. The best thing he could do was to dodge down the next alley.
He drew level with the restaurant where he’d eaten earlier. It was in darkness. As Bodie stepped by the door it opened with a soft rattle and a tall figure revealed itself in the shadows.
“Quick! Inside!” A slim female arm and hand reached out and
tugged at his shirt, drawing Bodie inside the dark restaurant. The door closed, the dry sound of a bolt being snapped into place reaching Bodie’s ears as he stood there, straining to see who had come to his aid. “Through to the back,” came the voice. Nervous hands prodded him forward, across the gloomy restaurant, guiding him around the end of the counter and through the curtained doorway.
Warm, pleasant smells invaded Bodie’s nostrils, and he realized he was standing in the kitchen. An oil lamp, suspended from the ceiling, threw out a faint light from its turned down wick.
Bodie saw the tall figure of the girl who had served his meal reach up and raise the flame of the lamp. Soft light flooded the kitchen. The girl turned to glance at him, the pale eyes a little frightened as she faced him. She unconsciously put a hand to her untidy hair, lifting stray curls away from her moist forehead. Almost guiltily she plucked at the open neck of her dress, covering the exposed flesh of her throat.
“You’ll be safe here,” she said.
“Maybe,” Bodie said, unsure of her reasons for doing for him what she had. “I don’t fancy the idea of getting myself boxed in.”
The girl smiled - the expression was completely removed from the almost childish grin she had used earlier. “Trust me,” she said. “They’ll expect you to make a run for it. Not stay in town. Isn’t that what you were planning?”
Bodie had to admit she was right. That had been his intention - to get as far away from Elkhorn as he possibly could. He stared at the girl, his mind working furiously. She had a point. About him staying in town. It was the least likely place for him to be, and being so close to the Elkhorn jail might turn out to be the safest.
“I open up for the evening trade in an hour,” the girl said. “Then I close at ten. There’s a room upstairs you can use. Rest if you want to. The room overlooks the street so you can keep an eye on the jail.”
“You make it sound tempting,” Bodie said.
“From the look of you a rest wouldn’t do much harm.” The girl stepped closer. “Is that blood over your ear?”
Bodie reached up and touched the place where Rick had clouted him with the Winchester. Dried blood had formed a brittle crust over the tender spot “Compliments of Elkhorn’s law,” he muttered.
“True to form,” the girl snapped “The shooting I heard? Was anyone hurt?”
“Deputy name of Rick,” Bodie said, watching for the girl’s reaction.
“Badly?”
“I put one where it hurts most,” Bodie told her.
The girl didn’t even flinch. “No more than he deserves,” was all she said.
“That’s pretty strong coming from a female,” Bodie observed.
The girl had picked up a china jug and was filling it with warm water from a big kettle on the stove. She placed the jug on the long kitchen table, went to a drawer and took out squares of clean white cotton. She pulled out a chair and indicated that Bodie should sit down. He did and the girl busied herself bathing the gash in his skull.
“This town has suffered long enough because of Frank Lowery and his bully boys. You should know how they treat people. How long had you been in town when they took you over to the jail? And what had you done?”
“Turns out I asked the wrong sort of questions.”
“And for that they crack your skull and toss you in a cell!” The girl gave a bitter laugh. “Welcome to Elkhorn. A nice, safe town - providing you live by the Major’s rules!”
Bodie winced as her fingers pressed sharply on the raw gash. “Hey! I got clouted once today because of that feller. And that was one time too many.”
“Sorry,” the girl apologized. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“Appears to me the Major ain’t one of your favorite people,” Bodie said. “You want to tell me why?”
The girl finished bathing his wound. She washed her hands, then moved to pour out a couple of cups of coffee. Handing one to Bodie she sat down at the table, absently stirring sugar into her drink.
“Why do you want to know?” she asked.
“Because the Major is part of the reason I came to Elkhorn.”
The girl’s eyes widened, settling firmly on Bodie’s face. “I’d like to hear that reason.”
“Back down the mountains is a town called Pine Ridge?”
The girl nodded. “I know it.”
“More than a week ago a feller got himself killed there. He was a local rancher. He got into an argument with some men. Later they caught up with him, dragged him in an alley and knocked him around - and then one of them blew him apart with a shotgun. They shot another feller in the leg when they quit town.”
“Go on.”
“The four men involved were Jody Butler, the Major’s son, feller named Lee Haddon, one of the Major’s hands, and a couple of other fellers who work for him. The town council in Pine Ridge put out a bounty for Jody Butler and the others, and that’s where I come in.”
“I see,” the girl said slowly.
“Bounty hunter ain’t always the kind folk fancy sitting in their kitchen,” Bodie said. “I can leave if you want.”
“Lord, no,” the girl said quickly. “You just stay where you are. Tell me, how long have you been after them? I only ask because I’ve seen Lee Haddon around town a couple of times over the last few days, and he didn’t appear to be looking over his shoulder.”
“That’s because he doesn’t figure he’s got anything to worry about,” Bodie said. “I caught up with them a couple of days after they’d left Pine Ridge. But they got the drop on me.” Bodie touched his still-bruised face. “They worked me over pretty good, tied me on my horse and sent me back to Pine Ridge. I think the idea was to persuade anyone else with the same idea to forget it.”
“It doesn’t seem to have persuaded you.”
Bodie smiled tightly. “One thing I never did learn was how to quit. And when I’m advised in such a persuasive way I just can’t help myself from coming back and trying again.”
“Does Frank Lowery know that’s the reason you’re in Elkhorn?”
Bodie shook his head. “We didn’t get as detailed as that in our conversation. Seems I didn’t, act humble enough for him, so I got clouted over the head and left in a cell. I overheard that Lowery had gone to bring the Major to town. I figure they were interested because I’d been asking the way out to the Butler spread.”
“The way things are in Elkhorn right now, that’s enough to get you hung from the nearest tree,” the girl said.
“My turn to ask why?”
“I’ll tell you but first I want to know who I’m talking to. My name’s Fran Skellhorn.”
“Bodie.”
Fran frowned slightly. “First or last?”
“Just Bodie,” he said, indicating there was no more to be added.
“All right, Bodie. If you’ve ridden through this area you’ll know this is all cow country. Some of the best. It’s been that way for a long time. The only bad thing about this country is Howard Butler - the Major. He’s a powerful man. Wealthy. Has a lot of influence. He’s also ambitious and greedy. And he’s not particularly concerned if he hurts anyone who happens to get in his way. I’m sure you’ve heard about his hold over this town. The fact that he owns a large part of it. Many of the people around town are under his influence one way or another.”
“You an exception?”
Fran smiled. “Actually, yes. This place is all mine. It came to me when my mother died about three years ago. The Major has never bothered me. Probably because the business is too small to be worth his attention. Anyhow that’s the situation in town. The main reason behind the troubles we’re having right now is the proposed spur line the railroad wants to run through the mountains into Elkhorn.”
“Surely that’s good?”
“Yes. A spur line would bring wider opportunities to Elkhorn. Increased business investment and the like. More people, more money. And it would mean that the local ranches - and mainly the Major’s - would be able to ship
their cattle direct instead of having to trail them all the way down to Pine Ridge, It would save time and money - again a good thing.”
“But?”
“But in the process of putting in the spur line the railroad would have to cut through Kittyhawk Creek. That’s a large section of range northeast of town. There are about eight independent ranches who work that range. Solid, well established outfits who have been there for many years.”
“There’s no other way for the railroad to come through?”
Fran shook her head. “No. The mountains to the north have been surveyed throughout. The only possible route for the spur line has to cut right across the Kittyhawk Creek range. It would destroy the rangeland and wipe out every outfit there.”
“I take it that the Major is all for the spur line?”
“He heads the Elkhorn Development Company, along with the bank. They stand to gain most from the spur line.”
“But the ranchers along the Kittyhawk won’t budge?”
“No. Why should they? Give up what’s taken a lifetime to build? Sell out knowing that no matter how much money they make, they’ll never find such good land again? And money isn’t everything, Bodie. To some people it’s the land that matters. The homes they’ve built. The families they’ve raised. It’s easy for the Major to talk glibly of the public good - would he give up his land if the spur line could only come in across Butler range?”
"That’s a question I’ll ask him when I see him,” Bodie said. “Is the Major putting pressure on the Kittyhawk people?”
“Oh yes,” Fran said. “It started about three days ago, Midnight raids on the ranches. Hooded riders burning barns. Spelling it out that the next time it might be bodies that are burning. One of the Kittyhawk ranchers was beaten when he tried to run the riders off. Cattle have been scattered. Fences torn down. It’s so pointless. The Kittyhawk people have formed themselves into an alliance and they’ll fight Butler for as long as it takes.”
“You sound pretty involved yourself,” Bodie pointed out.