by Neil Hunter
‘Take care, hombre,’ she said.
‘Always do.’
‘Will I see you again?’
‘Could be.’
‘Go with God,’ she murmured and melted into the shadows.
Bodie gigged his horse into motion, in along Adobe’s main street. Where it had been dust before, the street was now a ribbon of mud, puddled, deeply rutted. Guiding his horse towards the hotel, Bodie wondered where Linc Fargo was at that particular moment. With a feeling of pure peevishness, he hoped that the outlaw was as cold and uncomfortable as he was himself.
As he reached the hotel, starting to dismount, Bodie found himself smiling as he envisaged Joseph Kimble’s reaction, which would be worth seeing.
His feet had barely touched the muddy ground when a figure emerged from the hotel door, coming to an abrupt halt.
Time seemed to hold its breath, though only an instant must have passed before recognition set in.
‘Goddam you to hell, Bodie!’
Bodie thrust himself away from his horse’s side, clawing for his holstered Colt, as Nero, Kimble’s black bodyguard, snatched his own revolver from his belt and opened fire.
The roar of the gun was lost in the hiss of falling rain, but Bodie felt the hot sear of a bullet across the back of his left hand. Another clipped his shirt. A third kicked up a muddy geyser inches from him. Nero was firing blind, not allowing himself time to aim.
Bodie took his time, leveling his Colt and holding steady before he triggered his first shot. The .45 caliber bullet took Nero high in the chest, blasting a bloody hole through his thick body. The giant negro fell back a step, gasping with pain. Blood squirted from the wound, splashing onto the wet boardwalk, the bright red turning to a pale pink as it merged with the puddled water. Slumping back against the doorpost Nero swung his gun round towards Bodie a second time, but the man hunter had already moved, crouching low and slipping round the rear of his horse. He came up on Nero’s blind side and put three more bullets in the man before he knew what had hit him. Nero screamed loudly, his huge body tossed back through the hotel door. He smashed face down on the lobby floor, jerking and twitching, his blood fountaining across the floor, spattering against the wall.
Going in through the door Bodie made for the stairs, pausing at the top to thumb fresh cartridges into the Colt.
He turned along the passage. The door to Kimble’s room suddenly swung open and a man stepped out, a cocked gun in his hand. Bodie recognized him as Clem Tyler, one of Linc Fargo’s men.
Tyler’s eyes swept along the passage, rested on Bodie, and he opened his mouth in a warning yell, his gun coming up, firing.
The bullet ripped splinters from the wall level with Bodie’s head. Bodie, though, had already gone down to the floor, thrusting his gun hand forward, tilting his Colt up at Tyler’s moving body. He fired twice, both bullets ripping up through Tyler’s stomach, spinning him round and bouncing him off the wall. Tyler lost all control of his limbs and flopped to the floor, rolling in an untidy, bloody heap against the base of the wall.
Coming to his feet Bodie ran in through Kimble’s open door, keeping his head low, and the second he was inside he twisted off to the left, falling to the floor.
A gun blasted from somewhere in the room. Plaster exploded from the wall above Bodie, showering him with debris. As he lifted his head Bodie caught sight of a man on the far side of the room. Bodie snapped off a quick shot that ripped a hole in the man’s shoulder. The man stumbled back, catching his heel against a chair and crashed against the wall. He was still trying to regain his balance when Bodie shot him in the chest, a high shot that splintered bone and more the heart to shreds. The man threw his arms towards the ceiling and slid down the wall, leaving a long, bloody smear on the plaster.
Bodie crossed the room in long strides. As he passed the man he’d just killed he took a quick glance at the face: Jack Boyd, one more from Fargo’s bunch. Then he reached the sliding door to the other room.
‘Come on out, Kimble!’ he yelled.
A gun went off with a heavy sound. The bullet, ripped through the sliding door, and wood splinters sprayed the air. One caught Bodie’s left cheek, tearing the flesh.
Blood streamed down his face. A wild anger overrode Bodie’s caution. He drove his shoulder at the door, smashing the thin panel off its runners. As he stumbled into the room Bodie saw Kimble climbing out through the open window. His Colt was up and leveled before he realized he needed Kimble alive. Bodie jammed the gun back in its holster as he lunged across the room. Kimble half-turned as Bodie reached him, his face rigid with shock. He tried to bring his gun round but caught his hand against the window frame. Bodie grabbed hold of Kimble’s coat.
He dragged the protesting man back inside the room, swung him round and smashed him bodily against the wall. A framed print fell from its nail and dropped to the floor with a crash. Bodie caught Kimble’s gun hand and twisted the wrist against the bone’s natural position until something snapped. Kimble screamed in agony. His gun slipped to the floor.
‘Jesus, you bastard!’ Kimble yelled. ‘You crazy son of a bitch!’
Bodie hit him in the mouth, splitting Kimble’s lips and breaking a number of his teeth. Blood began to ooze from his mouth.
‘Don’t waste my time, Kimble,’ Bodie warned. ‘Where’s Fargo?’
Kimble, half sobbing, pawed at his bloody mouth. He stared at Bodie through wild, frightened eyes. ‘You expect me to tell you? Bodie, you’re crazy! Fargo’s mad enough at me for telling you where he was hiding out last time! You figure I’m going to do it again?’
‘That’s up to you,’ Bodie said. ‘All depends how keen you are.’
‘On what?’ Kimble asked.
‘On staying alive! ’ Bodie stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
Kimble fell silent for a few seconds. He turned his head to the side and spat blood and broken teeth. ‘Go to hell, Bodie,’ he mumbled through crushed lips.
Bodie reached down and took out his knife. He held Kimble against the wall with his left hand and used his right to thrust the blade of his knife through Kimble’s left shoulder. The tip of the blade touched the bone, wrenching an agonized scream from Kimble. Deliberately Bodie began to twist the knife, letting the steel blade grate against the bone. White-hot pain engulfed Kimble's shoulder. Sweat glistened on his face.
‘For God’s sake, Bodie !’ he moaned. Blood was streaming down his arm, dripping to the floor. 'I! can’t tell you ... oh God, no ... !’
The twisting knife sliced a large section of flesh from Kimble’s shoulder. Blood spouted from the wound, soaking through his clothing. The front of his white shirt turned red, sodden with blood. As Bodie worked the knife back and forth against the bone Kimble began to sag to the floor. The pain was almost too much for him to bear.
His head lolled forward against his chest and he no longer made any kind of resistance.
‘Please, Bodie, please stop!’ he begged.
‘You can stop it,’ Bodie told him, his face impassive, eyes cold and empty.
‘Fargo’s on his way to Pinalo ... going to pick up the railroad ... ride his way down to Mexico ... got himself a place to stay a day’s ride south of Juarez ... he’s going to wait there while I fix up a buyer for the goddam statue ... please, Bodie ... !’
Bodie jerked the knife from Kimble’s shoulder. Blood bubbled thickly from the wound. Kimble slithered to the floor and crouched there, clasping a hand to his shoulder.
Bodie put away his knife. He glanced down at Kimble’s moaning figure. ‘I were you, Kimble, I’d change my business. Find something a sight less dangerous. A long way away. Next time I see you I’m’ going to finish what I just started! And that’s a promise!’
Back on the street Bodie picked up his horse and mounted it. He rode out of Adobe ignoring the inquisitive stares of the people attracted to the hotel by the shooting, and once clear of the place he swung off towards the west and Pinalo.
Chapter Eleven
It
took the rest of the day and the whole of the night to reach Pinalo. The storm began to ease off during the long, lonely hours leading up to the bleak, pre-dawn period. As the first fingers of light began to drive away the darkness the rain slackened, drifting away on a light breeze. By the time the sun had revealed itself the rain had ceased. Thin tendrils of mist rose from the hollows in the earth as the sun began to penetrate. The pale sky was cloudless. It held the promise of warmth.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity Bodie felt the caress of sunlight on his body. He raised his head, feeling the warmth on his unshaven face. Even his horse responded, giving its head a sudden shake, snorting in pleasure.
Pinalo lay ahead. A medium-sized town centered around the railroad and the stockyard complex. Outlying ranches brought in their cattle, turning them over to the Pinalo stockyard. The stockyard arranged for the cattle to be loaded and shipped out to whichever market they were destined for. The cattle business was reaching its peak at this time and Pinalo was a thriving community, with a healthy future spreading out before it.
The town lay silent at this early hour. Bodie skirted the main section of Pinalo, cutting down a narrow cross-street that brought him out near the rail depot. Drawing rein he sat his horse and studied the seemingly deserted depot building. Maybe he was wasting his time. It was entirely possible that Fargo and his bunch were already on a train, well on the way to Mexico. They could have picked themselves a ride the previous night. Bodie grunted with impatience. There were too many damn maybes and ifs.
There were times, he decided, when life had the habit of becoming downright complicated.
He swung down out of the saddle, tying his horse to a nearby hitching post, and made his way towards the depot building. The only way he was going to find anything out was by asking some questions.
Bodie never got to asking his questions. In fact he didn’t even reach the depot building. He was still yards away when two shadowed figures stepped into view from further along the building. For a second they failed to register on his weary mind, inwardly yearning for rest that he was denying himself. By the time Bodie did become aware of their presence it was too late. Far too late.
One of them had a cocked gun aimed at Bodie’s head, and in the instant that he recognized the man, Bodie knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use the weapon if the need arose.
The man holding the gun was called Vin Purdy. He had ridden, with Linc Fargo for a number of years and had a reputation as a cold, impulsive killer.
‘Just stand right where you are, Bodie,’ Purdy called out. ‘You even fart without me givin’ the say so an’ I’ll shoot your balls off!’
Bodie froze, keeping his hand away from his gun. He knew when not to try going against the odds. At this particular moment Purdy had the upper hand. But things could change. Vin Purdy had already made one mistake — one which might yet cost him his life — he had caught Z Bodie cold but he hadn’t killed him. Bodie had a feeling that Purdy wanted to prolong the moment. Like a lot of second-rate gunmen, Purdy derived satisfaction from making his victims sweat. He would corner them, and then, like a cat with a mouse, he would play with them until he had exhausted the situation. Only then would he make his kill. It was the mark of an amateur as far as Bodie was concerned. He had one rule and he never wavered from it: if you intend to kill a man do it the moment the opportunity presents itself; Don’t hesitate, because your hesitation might be all the other man needs to blow a hole in you, and once you’re dead it’s all over.
So Bodie stayed still and waited for his chance. The second man had eased forward now, moving to where Bodie was able to see him clearly.
Snake! The scar-faced killer who preferred a whip to a gun. The one who deliberately flayed the flesh from Father Ignacio’s naked back. Bodie could see the whip now, dangling from his gun belt.
‘Hell, Vin, we got him,’ Snake grinned. He moved forward, almost dancing as he chuckled to himself. ‘The ol’ Stalker hisself! Hot damn, Vin, Linc was right. He said the son of a bitch would turn up!’
Purdy nodded. ‘Yeah. Well this is the end of the line, Bodie! You should of quit while you was ahead!’
Bodie bit back any comment he might have had. There was no point in 'provoking Purdy. Not while that gun was held towards his head.
‘Snake, get his gun,’ Purdy said. ‘An’ don’t forget that pig sticker on his belt there.’
‘I see it,’ Snake giggled. He slipped Bodie’s Colt in his own belt, took the knife and tucked it down the side of his left boot. ‘He don’t come off lookin’ so tough now we picked him clean!’
‘Well don’t stand too close, Snake, ’cause he’s a mean bastard, and I won’t be certain sure he’s safe ’til he’s good and dead! Now fetch his horse over.’
Snake untied Bodie’s horse and led it to where Bodie stood. Still grinning, he took Bodie’s rifle and levered out ` all the cartridges before returning it to the sheath. ‘You was hopin’ I’d forgot, hadn’t you?’
‘Bring our horses, Snake, and let’s get the hell out of here,’ Purdy snapped, his narrow face darkening into a vicious scowl.
Snake brought two horses from behind the far end of the depot building.
‘Bodie, you get in your damn saddle,’ Purdy ordered.
‘You just sit and do like you’re told.’
‘Or what?’ Bodie asked as he mounted up.
Vin Purdy jerked the muzzle of his gun. ‘Or I might change my mind and blow you to hell and back right now!’
Bodie managed a thin smile. ‘It couldn’t be any worse than where I am right now, boys.’
‘Ah, shit,’ Purdy muttered. He pulled himself on his own mount, the gun never once wavering from Bodie.
Gathering his reins Purdy said, ‘Move out, Bodie.’
They rode around the depot and across the gleaming wet railroad tracks. On the far side the land fell away in a gentle slope, and beyond the land lay wild and empty and desolate. An undulating landscape of gullies and creeks, of twisted ravines, scattered rocks. Here and there was tangled brush, cactus. To the far west could be seen the purple humps of low mountains, stark against the sheer blue of the sky.
Nobody spoke. There was no need. They were all fully aware of what lay ahead. The intention was to kill Bodie as soon as they were well away from town; Kill him and dump his body. And then Purdy and Snake would ride on to rejoin Linc Fargo.
It was as simple — and as deadly — as that! Bodie knew it, his mind raced as he tried to find a way out of the mess y he’d gone and walked into with his eyes wide open. The trouble was that finding a solution was never as easy as creating the problem.
Pinalo fell far behind them. The sun eased its way if higher. Heat penetrated the back of Bodie’s shirt. He began to sweat, though it wasn’t all from the heat of the sun.
‘Hey, Bodie, how’d you like a last request? Snake’s taunting voice came from somewhere behind Bodie.
‘Won’t have to be too fancy, mind, ’cause there ain’t too much on hand out here.’
‘Snake, shut your mouth!’ Purdy yelled. He jerked round on his partner. ‘God in hell, do you have to keep yappin’ all the time?’
‘Just tryin’ to make things easier for the poor man,’ Snake giggled. He dug in his heels and his horse ran forward until he was alongside Bodie. ‘Ain’t every day you get the chance to bury a hombre like Bodie. Vin, you know how important Mister Bodie is?’
Purdy shook his head. ‘Snake, you’re crazy!’
Snake’s laugh shrilled out across the empty land. He threw back his head, his mouth wide open, cackling like a wild hen. ‘The man says I’m crazy, Mama! You hear what he says about your little boy? Heeaaa, Mama, you listening down there, you old devil?’
Vin Purdy, his anger rising and boiling over, yanked back on his horse’s reins, twisting the animal round. For a moment his attention wandered from Bodie.
Leaning over Bodie reached out with his right hand and jerked his knife from Snake’s boot. Snake felt the knife bein
g removed and his laughter stopped. His head was still thrown back. By the time he brought it back to its normal position Bodie had already made his move.
As he snatched the knife free he continued the forward sweep of his right arm, curving the keen blade under the neck of Snake’s horse. With a powerful cut he severed the animal’s throat, slicing open the main vein. Blood gushed from the huge wound. The horse screamed in pain and fright, staggered, then went down on its knees, throwing a startled Snake over its head. Snake hit the ground face down and hard.
Bodie dug in his heels and his horse leapt forward, closing in on Purdy’s. There was a moment when Purdy’s eyes locked with Bodie’s, as if he had realized his earlier mistake in not killing Bodie back in Pinalo. Then Bodie’s horse slammed into his own. Purdy rocked back in the saddle, his cocked gun jerking skywards, exploding with a crash. Before Purdy could drag the hammer back for a second shot Bodie drove his knife into the outlaw's side, sliding the heavy blade between two ribs. Purdy felt the hard intrusion of cold steel, the sudden shock of pain. He tried to stay in his saddle. but Bodie had thrown his whole weight behind the thrust of the knife. Purdy toppled back off his horse, Bodie on top of him. They hit the ground in a wild tangle. Purdy lost his grip on his gun and it fell yards out of his reach. He felt Bodie’s free hand close over his throat and he fought back in wild panic. His flailing arms and legs did little damage to Bodie. He held Purdy down with his left hand, using his right to drag the bloody knife from the man’s side. Blood spurted from the wound.
Purdy’s wildly staring eyes caught a glimpse of the knife as Bodie swept it back, and he realized that the blood streaking the blade was his own. He gave a wild howl, his body arching up off the ground, reaching up for the blade in an attempt to stop its downward flight. He felt a solid blow just under his heart, not realizing it was the knife slicing into his flesh. Then there was a terrible pain, a white-hot burst that exploded in his chest. Purdy screamed but no sound came out. Instead a great gout of blood welled up from his throat, spilling from his gaping mouth. His hands clawed at the very air, desperately seeking some solid form to hold on to. His body jerked, twitched, his heels drumming frantically against the earth. Coughing blood as he tried to suck air into his starved lungs, Purdy became aware of the sky darkening in front of his eyes. The sight puzzled him because he knew it was nowhere near night.