by Neil Hunter
“You get him?” he asked. “Haddon?”
Bodie nodded, “That only leaves Butler!”
Skellhorn shook his head. “You’re too late, Bodie!”
He led Bodie to where a group of Kittyhawk men were gathered round a crumpled shape lying in the dust in front of the jail. What was left of the Major - Howard Butler - lay in a congealing pool of his own blood. He’d been literally shot to pieces. Every Kittyhawk gun must have been turned on him, countless bullets ripping him open from skull to groin. Great raw, pulped wounds showed where shots had been put in him from close range, tearing out chunks of living flesh. His shredded clothing was sodden with blood and it was caked around his open mouth. Butler’s lips were drawn back in a final snarl of defiance. In death he looked far older than he had in life. Smaller, too, as he lay curled up in the dirt - as if he had rolled up his body in a futile, almost childlike attempt to escape the final punishment.
“He came out ready to take us all on,” Skellhorn said. “The son of a bitch had a gun in each hand. Shooting at every damn thing in sight. He killed one of our boys before we stopped him. He’d’ve killed us all, Bodie.”
“You put his back to the wall,” Bodie said. “He was an old wolf, Skellhorn. And that’s when an old wolf fights the best - when he’s got his back to the wall!”
Skellhorn shook his head. When he looked up there was a glint in his eye. “Us sheep didn’t do too bad for once,” he said. “The Major wasn’t the only one with his back to the wall. Even sheep get tired of bein’ carved up...”
Thick smoke rolled across the street, sending men running, coughing, eyes streaming.
“You going to ride back to Pine Ridge?” Skellhorn asked. “Collect that bounty?”
Bodie nodded. “Damn right I am. Ain’t had to work so hard for a long time!”
“You ain’t in all that much of a hurry to leave are you?” Skellhorn probed. “Nothing to stop you sending a telegraph to Pine Ridge - tellin’ ’em you got what you came for!”
“You asking me to stay?”
“He might not - but I will!”
Bodie turned and it was Fran. She was looking at him with that expression women were prone to showing when they were past playing games. Bodie knew that look too damn well. He’d seen it so often it was like being greeted by an old friend - yet at the same time he knew it could mean trouble. He gazed at Fran for a long moment, caught the slow smile curling the corners of her soft mouth, and he thought what the hell! A man has a right to a few quiet moments, and with a girl like Fran there was no chance of getting bored. And he couldn’t get himself in any worse trouble than the mess he’d just been through.
Could he?
He took Fran’s arm and let her lead him across the street towards the restaurant, and ignored the persistent small voice at the back of his mind. The voice that kept telling him he could! He already knew that - but he was damned if he was going to allow it to spoil his fun!
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About the Author
Mike writes: "I'm originally from Lancashire. My late and much-missed father was a career soldier. He joined young, before WWII, and spent time in India as a cavalryman. The family moved around the country a lot, so much of my early life existed within the environs of Army life. We had two and a half years in Malaya when the UK was involved in fighting against the Communist insurgence there. Being of school age, it was all a great adventure and instilled in me an open view of other cultures and peoples. We returned to the UK in 1953, where I completed my schooling, my main interest being in English and Art. I had a number of jobs before finally spending the greater part of my working life as a Technical Advisor with a Derby-based paint manufacturing company. I began writing Western fiction in my early 20s. I sold my first two Western novels, Savage Journey and Incident At Butler's Station, to Avon Books in 1967. Then, after a long, empty period, came Bounty Killer, sold to Leisure books in 1975. Bounty Killer (or High Kill, to give it its original title) was a stand-alone western, but they really hacked it to death in order to make it fit their Sundance series -- a move over which I had no say. In 1976 I wrote four hardback Westerns for Barrie & Jenkins. Two of these were later sold to Bladkompaniet, a Norwegian publisher, and serialized in their pulp magazine. The character of Jason Brand an ex-US Marshal who was dismissed from the service only to end up an Undercover Justice Agent was created specifically for Bladkompaniet.”