by Neil Hunter
Bodie threw an arm around her waist to stop himself from sliding off the horse’s back. “I don’t give a damn,” he bellowed. “Straight up if you can manage it, but just get us out of here!”
Eden tightened the reins as the wild running horse thundered through the camp, narrowly missing one of the huts. The air began to crackle with the sound of heavy shooting. Something tugged at the sleeve of her dress and she felt a sudden burn across her arm. Leaning across the horse’s neck she yelled at the top of her lungs, urging the horse to reach its full stride. Close by she heard the flat blast of Bodie’s Colt as he returned fire. And then they were clear of the camp, in the open, with a stand of tall pine trees coming up fast. Eden took the horse into the timber, feeling low branches slap at her face and body. Despite the closeness of the dark trunks she never once slackened the horse’s pace, though she was sure that she held her breath throughout the wild gallop through the timber.
They broke out of the trees at the base of a steep slope. Eden pushed the horse up the slope and over the ridge at the top. As they dropped out of sight on the far side of the crest Bodie slid from the saddle, snatching his rifle from the scabbard. Turning he ran back to the ridge, jacking a shell into the breech.
He could see the shadowed shapes of riders coming through the trees at the bottom of the slope. As the first rider cleared the timber Bodie put his rifle to his shoulder and fired. The rider’s horse went down, spraying blood from its nostrils. The rider was thrown clear. He hit the ground, rolling and coming to his feet, waving his companions back. Bodie shot him before he could reach cover himself. A bullet struck the man high in the chest, ripping an agonized scream from him as it seared down through his body, punching a bloody hole in his lower back on its way out.
The other riders dismounted, using the trees as cover, and began to return Bodie’s fire. Bullets whacked the hard earth along the crest of the slope, moving closer and closer to Bodie’s position. The manhunter slid away from the crest, edged some yards to his right and eased up again. He was in time to catch one of the men running from the trees, angling across the open ground. Bodie lifted his rifle and followed the running man for a time before he put two bullets in him. The man yelled briefly, his blood rising in his throat, gouting from his mouth in a red spray. He hit the ground, his body twisting and writhing in agony, his hands clasped over the bloody holes in his body.
Bodie rolled away from the ridge and ran to where Eden Chantry waited with his horse. As he reached her she lifted her head and smiled at him.
“Hello, Bodie,” she said, as if she was meeting him while out for a pleasant stroll on a Sunday afternoon. “It’s been a long time.”
Bodie grunted something unintelligible. Jamming his rifle back in the scabbard he swung up into the saddle, extending his hand and arm for Eden. She took hold and he pulled her up behind him.
“You know what?” he said.
Eden slid her arms around his waist, pressing herself close to his broad back. “What, Bodie?”
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this. People are going to start talking!”
There was a momentary silence. Bodie kicked the horse into motion. As he did Eden Chantry began to laugh, and it was the best sound Bodie had heard in days.
He took the horse off across the stretch of level ground, heading for the jagged rise of rocky slopes ahead. It wouldn’t be long before Coyote had his men organized, and then the hunt would start in earnest. Bodie didn’t relish the thought of being caught out in the open. He wasn’t overly keen on being caught anywhere, but common sense dictated that he would stand a better chance in amongst the high rocks. At least he would be able to find himself a place to make his stand. A spot he could defend.
Bodie was beginning to realize that, like it or not, he was going to have to take on Coyote and his bunch of renegades on their own ground. Here, among the rocky slopes and the towering mesas of the rim, Bodie had been pushed into a position where he could do one of two things. Either quit and put himself in Coyote’s hands, or put his back to the wall and fight it out with the half-breed and his bunch of killers. Either way it wasn’t about to be a church social. Coyote had somewhere in the region of nine or ten men. Bodie had himself, a girl, and a dozen Winchester rifles. It was only when he thought about it that he saw his position in a new light. Eden Chantry was no fancy-lace and powder female. She had good looks, no denying. But she had been born and raised Army, and that counted for something. Eden could handle a gun as well as a lot of men, and Bodie knew that she wouldn’t hesitate to do so. He also had the twelve rifles and the thousand rounds of ammunition, and the way things were going it looked as if he was going to need them.
Reaching the base of the slope Bodie scanned the way ahead. He was faced with a steeply rising mass of rocks and fissured earth. Deep gullies and high rock faces combined to present a formidable terrain. Bodie twisted in his saddle, finding no change in the formation of the land in either direction. He swore silently. Whichever way he went he was liable to get burned. He’d never subscribed to the policy of going back over old ground. So that left him with a single choice — and Bodie took it.
Dust rose from beneath his horse’s hooves as Bodie urged the animal up the slope. Loose stones rattled noisily as the straining horse struggled to maintain its footing.
“Bodie, we’ll never make it riding double,” Eden Chantry said.
“You want to toss a coin for who gets the chance to walk?” Bodie asked.
Eden shook her head in mock disgust. “You always did have a gallant streak, Bodie,” she said.
“Yeah?” Bodie swung out of the saddle and took the reins, moving ahead to lead the horse. “Look where it’s gotten me!”
Easing forward into the empty saddle Eden slid Bodie’s rifle from the scabbard and laid it across her thighs. She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes searching the rugged land below. She felt her heart pound as she caught sight of a bunch of riders crossing the open stretch before the slope.
“Bodie!” she called.
Bodie followed her pointing finger. He looked beyond the riders and saw more of them cresting the distant rise.
“We’ll keep moving,” he said. “They can’t reach us yet.”
“I don’t think they know that,” Eden remarked.
Bodie glanced at her, his face darkened by an angry scowl. He caught the bright gleam in her eyes and realized she was trying to make a difficult situation easier to put up with. He smiled. Eden had that capacity for casual light-headedness many a woman on the frontier could have benefited from.
“Damn Army brat,” he growled, turning back to lead the horse on up the slope. He could feel the high sun burning through his shirt. Sweat ran down his face, making his beard itch. Bodie tugged the brim of his hat lower across his eyes, trying to cut out the bright glare.
It was going to be a long day, he decided, and it was bound to get a sight hotter — and he wasn’t thinking about the damn sun either!
Chapter Nine
Bodie heard the horse scream in panic as its rear end slid over the edge of the steep-sided ravine. He spun on his heel, yanking back on the reins, but the dead weight of the horse was too much for him. The reins were dragged through his fingers, burning the skin. Bodie let go of the reins and made a grab for Eden as she tried to throw herself from the saddle. She managed to slip clear of the saddle but couldn’t stop herself from going over the edge of the ravine. With a startled cry she vanished into the boiling cloud of dust raised by the falling horse. Bodie didn’t hesitate. He went over the crumbling edge of the ravine, half striding, half falling down the long, sandy bank. He hit the bottom on his knees, blinded by the yellow fog of dust. On his feet he moved to where Eden’s motionless figure lay. A few yards off the downed horse thrashed about in silent agony, eyes rolling in terror.
“Eden, you hurt?” Bodie asked, kneeling beside her.
There was no response. Bodie brushed away the dirt clinging to her face. Then one of Eden’s eyes
opened.
“You have a lovely touch, Bodie,” she murmured. Abruptly her humor vanished and she groaned softly. “Oh, I’m sore, Bodie.”
He thumbed his hat to the back of his head. “Trouble with you, Eden, is you don’t know when you’re kidding yourself.”
She sat up slowly. “No jokes, Bodie. I came down that slope by a most unladylike method.”
Bodie got up and crossed over to where the horse lay. Both its front legs were broken, white shards of bone showing through the torn flesh. Slipping out his Colt Bodie put a single bullet through the animal’s head. Then he moved to the rear and began to remove the wrapped bundle of rifles.
“I was ready for a walk anyway,” Eden said as she joined him.
While Bodie dealt with the guns Eden collected the canteen of water, the saddlebags and the small sack holding the food. She located Bodie’s rifle and cradled it in her arms. She watched silently as Bodie fashioned a crude sling out of his saddle-rope and fixed it to the bundle of rifles.
“How far do you expect to carry those?” she asked as Bodie humped the heavy bundle on his back.
He pointed ahead of them to where the ravine wound its way to the foot of the squat mesa. “Up there,” he said.
Eden shook her head. “I know which end I fell on coming down that slope,” she said. “You sure you didn’t fall on the other — your head?”
“I ain’t particularly excited by the idea myself,” he said. “Only we don’t have a lot of choice in the matter right now. No horse and a lot of men out looking for us. Like it or not we’re going to have to fight. I’d rather choose my place while I got the chance.” He grinned at her. “Would have figured you to have known that — being an Army brat and all.”
Eden’s eyes narrowed. “Bodie, I’m not so sure I like you after all,” she said. “But I always did have strange tastes,” she added impishly.
“Let’s go,” Bodie said.
They moved along the dry ravine, following the natural erratic course of the fissure. It took them two hours to reach the base of the mesa. Bodie slumped to the ground. He was bathed in sweat and his whole body ached. The rope sling had chafed the flesh of his shoulders and across his chest until it was raw.
Eden threw down her burdens. She uncapped the canteen and put it to Bodie’s lips. He took a short swallow; savoring the feel of the water trickling down his parched throat.
“Bodie,” Eden began, uncertainty in her tone. “Have I made things bad for you?”
“Things are never bad when you’re around, Eden,” he said lightly, sensing her discomfort. “Hectic, yes, but never bad.”
“Stop it, Bodie,” she demanded. “This time I’m serious. When you came into Coyote’s camp you had no idea I was there — did you?”
He shook his head. “I was after Coyote,” he told her. “The guns were just bait to get me close to him.”
“And I went and spoiled it by opening my big mouth.” Eden put a hand on Bodie’s arm. “Bodie, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. How did you end up at Coyote’s camp?”
“I’d been to visit friends in Tucson for a few days. On the way back the stage was attacked by Coyote and his bunch. They killed the driver and the guard and the only other passenger. I think Coyote would have killed me if one of his men hadn’t recognized me.” She smiled wryly. “As soon as Coyote knew Owen Chantry was my father he treated me like royalty, which isn’t all that much of an honor as far as he’s concerned. Coyote wanted me alive and well so I could watch when he killed Dad. He’s really sick, Bodie. So twisted up inside with thoughts of vengeance and slaughter. I was getting ready to make a run for it, and then you turned up. The first thing I thought was that Dad had sent you.”
Bodie struggled to his feet. “Knowing your father, Eden, he’s probably gotten half the southwest cavalry out looking for you right now.”
“But that doesn’t really help us, Bodie.” Eden picked up her belongings.
They moved off along the final few yards of the ravine, Bodie searched for a way up the wind-scoured, bleached side of the mesa. He finally found what he was looking for. A deep fissure in the side of the mesa. It was full of broken rock. Overgrown with brush. There was no possible access by horse. on the ground beside him. The relief was immense. He sat up, rubbing his aching chest, glancing around the jagged mesa. Nothing but dust and rock and shriveled brush. A split, fissured surface dotted with boulders and crumbling shelves of weathered stone. Bodie climbed to his feet, still sizing up the area. He noticed how long and black the shadows were. Glancing skywards he saw that the sun was low on the horizon. The day was almost over. He’d lost track of time during the long climb up to the mesa.
“Bodie?”
He turned as Eden rose to her feet, awkwardly brushing her tangled hair away from her face.
“I must look a sight,” she said. She slapped at the dust marking her dress. “If Coyote sees me like this he’ll run a mile!”
“He might — I wouldn’t,” Bodie said.
Eden smiled. “Thanks for that.” She stared about her. “What now?”
“We find a place where we can put our backs to the wall and then wait,” he said matter of factly. “I learned that from your father. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch. All those years in the Army and he never learned how to retreat.”
“I know,” Eden said. “It’s a strategy I use myself.”
They picked up their belongings and trailed slowly across the mesa. Bodie had already spotted the place he would use. It lay at the base of a high ridge of stone. A wide overhang of rock formed a natural shelter and just in front were splintered slabs of fallen rock, creating a barrier across the overhang. It was a good defensive position, giving a clear view of the place where Coyote’s men would have to climb onto the mesa.
Bodie dragged the bundle of rifles beneath the overhang and untied the rope. He pulled away the canvas, exposing the twelve Winchesters and the two boxes of cartridges. Taking his saddlebags from Eden he opened one of the pouches and took out a rolled bundle of cloth. Inside were his gun-cleaning materials. He took cloth and pull-through, picked up each rifle in turn and cleaned out barrel and breech, wiping off the light coating of grease on the outer casing. When each Winchester had been cleaned he used his knife to prise off the lids of the ammunition boxes. He went along the row of rifles, loading each one; twelve rifles — thirteen rounds to each weapon. That gave him a concentrated firepower of one hundred and fifty-six shots without having to reload. If he added to that the thirteen from his own Winchester, plus the six in his Colt, the total reached one hundred and seventy-five.
Satisfied he’d done all he could to prepare for Coyote’s eventual appearance Bodie climbed to his feet and turned to Eden. She had positioned herself behind the rock barrier fronting the overhang. Bodie’s rifle was in her slim hands.
“Go and get some rest,” Bodie told her.
Eden shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t give me a hard time, Eden.” Bodie took his rifle from her fingers. “There might not be time later so rest now.”
“Bodie, you’re a bully.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed.
Eden moved beneath the overhang. She picked a comparatively smooth spot and lay down, letting the exhaustion she’d been resisting wash over her. She closed her eyes and was asleep in a couple of minutes.
Slipping his Colt from the holster Bodie replaced the cartridges he’d used back at Coyote’s camp. As he completed reloading his attention was caught by the spreading stain of red that was filling the sky as the sun slid towards the western horizon. The glowing flush of liquid color spilled over onto the land itself. It flowed in a pulsing flood across the silent landscape. Watching it, Bodie figured it might not be too long before the earth would be bathed in more than just the red of a setting sun. He was thinking more along the lines of freshly spilled blood.
Chapter Ten
Coyote’s men came with the dawn. Thin shadows slipping s
ilently over the rim of the mesa in the gray half-light that was neither day nor night. As quiet as dust motes carried on a breeze they eased away from the edge of the mesa, grim, cold-eyed men with thoughts of death on their minds.
And death was what awaited them on that bleak, barren mesa.
It came in the form of an unannounced blast of rifle fire. A sustained volley of shots, the sound shattering the tranquil calm of the new day.
The first man to go down was dead before he hit the ground. Two .44 caliber bullets had ripped his face open, splintering bone and pulping flesh before they blasted their way out through the back of his skull.
The other renegades found themselves coming under a withering rain of bullets. The air seemed alive with flying lead. A second man, caught by a burst of fire, was twisted about helplessly, his body jerking under the impact. Ragged, bloody holes appeared in his chest. He was thrown off his feet, blood spurting from the pulpy wounds.
The defensive gunfire continued relentlessly, driving the surviving renegades back to the rim of the mesa. Most of them made it. The last man was about to step down below the edge of the rim when a single bullet caught him in the back of the head. It blew the front of his face apart on its exit, the force of the shot hurling him over the edge of the mesa. He had time for one short scream as his body fell, curving out beyond the mesa wall. And then he was gone, twisting his body in a fruitless struggle. He hit the rocky ground far below with enough force to shatter every bone in his body, blood smearing the rocks around for yards.
A heavy silence followed the burst of sound. Pale coils of powder smoke hung in the air above the place Bodie had chosen to defend. Beyond the mesa the grey sky lightened, color deepening. The black night shadows melted away before the advancing rays of the sun. Time passed with agonizing slowness. The early warmth of the day increased as the sun began its climb. Heat began to intensify, washing over everything, pulsing, shimmering…
“Hey, Bodie! Bounty man! You hear me?”