by Neil Hunter
They broke camp and rode down off the high ground, taking the long way around to skirt Yuma and head south. Teeler had picked up talk while he was in town that Bodie would be scouting in that direction, because it was Cagle’s old territory and he would start there.
‘Let him catch our scent,’ Cagle said. ‘He caught us last time ’cause he figured out where we’d be. He’ll ride his own trail, lookin’ to catch us on home ground and by God I figure to let him do just that.’
‘Ain’t that asking for trouble?’ Elkins said.
Dancer’s shrill giggle sounded. ‘He figures he’s so smart,’ he said. ‘So we let him follow us until we turn right around and catch him. Ain’t that right, Vince?’
‘That’s the general idea,’ Cagle said. ‘We lead him right where we want him.’
‘Then we put that bastard right in the ground,’ Dancer said.
‘Too right,’ Benedict said, for once agreeing with Dancer.
‘We going south,’ Elkins said, ‘we’ll need to grub up. Ain’t enough now to keep us going long. We hit the desert country there’s no places to buy supplies.’
Cagle considered that and nodded.
‘You and Teeler fall back. Call on by Toomey’s place. Pick up what we need.’
‘We’ll catch up later. Follow your tracks. We know about where you’re going.’
Elkins nodded to Teeler and they turned their horses around and rode out.
~*~
Though Elkins had the impression they were in the clear in truth it was the other way around. The man working for Elkins and shot during the ambush had been identified as being an accomplice of Elkins. Bodie had done his homework and knowing now who had broken Cagle and company free Bodie had picked up the trail made by the group as they left the area. He doggedly followed as the gang moved around, then realized their roundabout route was taking them south, towards the desert country. Aware he was trailing five men Bodie stayed clear while he worked on how he might cut down the numbers.
His chance came when he picked up the tracks left by Elkins and Teeler as they separated from the others. He followed and it didn’t take too long to figure they were heading for the small trading post close by. Elkins and Teeler would be going to pick up much needed supplies for the bunch before they rode south and into the solitary desert country. Bodie knew the area well and he used a route that got him to the trading post before Elkins and Teeler, tethering his horse out of sight at the back of the rambling building.
Elkins had imagined he was safe and did little to help himself, tying his horse at the peeling hitch rail and walking into the post, Teeler at his side. He only became aware something was off when he bellied up to the makeshift bar and ordered a couple of drinks. The man behind the bar gave himself away by showing distinct nervousness. His hand shook when he went to pour Elkins a shot of whisky and he spilled almost as much as he put in the glass.
Elkins’ suspicious nature warned him and he leaned over the bar and grasped the trader’s wrist.
‘What?’ he said. ‘You’re makin’ me figure things ain’t right here. What you hiding?’
The trader, Toomey, yanked his hand free and stepped back.
‘Ain’t nothing to hide, friend,’ he said in a voice less than convincing.
‘You think I’m stupid?’
‘If you’re not,’ someone said from the far side of the room, ‘it’s a pretty good impression.’
Elkin’s turned away from the bar, searching for the source of the voice. And found it as Bodie stepped out of the shadows at the fare end of the long room.
‘Son of a bitch,’ Elkins said. ‘Bodie. How the hell did you find us?’
‘You pair leave a trail a blind man with a sack over his head could follow. You keep bad company too.’
‘And you want to round ‘em up again?’
‘Caught Cagle and his crew once before. Governor at Yuma figured I’d have as good a chance second time around.’
‘The hell you will,’ Elkins yelled. ‘Those are friends of mine and they ain’t goin’ back to that place. Sooner be dead…’
‘That can be arranged.’
Out the corner of his eye Bodie saw Teeler easing off to the side, his hand already sliding in the direction of his holstered handgun.
Elkins reached across the bar and took the glass of whisky. He downed it with a quick motion of his left hand, and went for the Peacemaker on his hip with his shooting hand.
Toomey, watching, swore later that it all happened so quick he couldn’t tell who was faster. All he recalled was the sudden burst of gunfire. It echoed loudly in the confines of the room. There were three close shots. Elkins’ slug went wild as both of Bodie’s hit. Elkins turned half around, his face taut with shock. A pair of fist sized, bloody holes appeared in his back as Bodie’s slugs cored into his body and blew out through his spine in a mist of bloody debris. He fell across the bar, his pistol bouncing from his hand, and slid along the edge of the counter until his body weight pulled him to the floor. He slammed face down.
Teeler had gone for his own weapon, sliding it free.
The second he fired at Elkins and before his body hit the floor, Bodie had changed position, turning sideways on. His Colt moved smoothly, tracking Teeler without pause and though the other man was fast, Bodie’s Colt fired first. His single shot was on target, the solid lead slug thudding into Teeler’s chest, knocking him back a step. Teeler’s gun tilted skywards, his finger tripping the trigger and sending his lone shot up at the roof. Bodie raised the Colt and put a second slug into Teeler, placing it over the man’s right eye and taking out the back of Teeler’s skull on its exit. Teeler keeled over, body rigid and when he slammed down on the floor even Toomey felt the vibration.
The trader glanced at Bodie as he moved forward to stand over Elkins. Thin curls of smoke slid from the muzzle of the big Colt in his fist.
‘He could have gone back to Yuma sitting his saddle instead of draped over it,’ Bodie said.
‘His choice,’ Toomey, said.
Bodie glanced at the whisky glass, tipped on its side.
‘That shot cost him dear.’
‘You said it.’
Bodie pulled a twenty dollar coin from his pocket and spun it on the bar.
‘That cover it?’
Toomey scooped up the coin, examined it.
‘I’ll get Hernandez to sew them up in burlap bags and put them in the cold cellar.’
‘Make it soon. They won’t stay fresh for long.’
‘You got more urgent business?’
‘Three more names on my list,’ Bodie said.
‘Do me a favor, Bodie,’ Toomey asked. ‘Catch up with them a long way from here.’
He knew Bodie of old and was aware that the man hunter had a reputation for drawing trouble to him like a honey pot draws bees.
‘You trying to hurt my feelings, Toomey?’
‘No. Just asking nicely.’
‘Way I see it those three are not going to be hanging around too close. When Elkins doesn’t join up with them I’m figuring they’ll keep right on moving.’
‘Let’s hope so. Bodie, you need any supplies?’
‘Only a top up for my canteen.’
‘Help yourself. You know where the well is.’
Replacing the spent bullets, Bodie nodded and made his way outside, leaving Toomey to stare at the hole in the roof where Teeler’s slug had passed through. A thin shaft of sunlight shone through and Toomey realized he needed to repair it. If it ever rained that hole was going to allow water in. Only a small matter but if he left it he’d have a wet patch grow. Toomey decided he’d get Hernandez repair it once he’d done putting Elkins to rest. One way and another the Mexican was going to have a busy day.
Out the corner of his eye Toomey caught sight of Bodie riding by the trading post window after collecting his horse from out back. He was glad to see the man go. As much as he liked him Toomey was always relieved when Bodie moved on.
‘Buen
a suerte, amigo.’
He had a feeling Bodie was going to need it.
Chapter Five
Bodie tracked the three riders, using Elkins’ trail to where he had parted company with his friends. The ground was dry and there was no wind, so the hoof prints had remained clear. The trail led south and west. Not somewhere Bodie would have chosen. There was little ahead, save for barren desert land. An unquestionably hostile environment. Sand and rock. Scant vegetation and with a scarcity of water unless a man knew the location of the few sources of water. Bodie had ridden here on other occasions and he didn’t take to it. Right now he had no choice because that was where Cagle, Benedict and Dancer were riding. He found himself wondering why.
A couple of hours later he found out why the hard way…
~*~
…his horse shot from under him. Canteen punctured so he had no water. There was no doubt they had him at a disadvantage. On foot and forced to maintain his distance, Bodie had been presented with a single option.
He called himself every kind of fool. He had allowed himself to be drawn into following them, without figuring it was what they wanted. And his lack of concentration had betrayed him. If Bodie had been the kind to make excuses he could have blamed his mistake on being tired from the long ride to catch up with his quarry. Too long with little sleep. Pushing himself too hard. Another man might have done that. Bodie didn’t. He had no one else to blame but himself and he was paying for his slip up now. He had been eager to catch up with Cagle and his partners. Maybe too eager and it had edged him towards being a touch careless.
So all he could do was put it behind him and do what was needed to pull himself out of trouble. It was not in Bodie’s nature to back away. But given he was no man’s fool and able to assess what would be in his best interest for the present, Bodie had accepted the way it was.
He was unable to get to his rifle. It was trapped beneath the dead horse’s bulk, the same with half his saddlebags. He dropped his hand to his revolver. Found the holster empty. The heavy Colt had slipped from leather as he had fallen from his horse. He spotted where it lay a few feet away, close enough, but with Billy Dancer waiting with his rifle those few feet made all the difference.
‘Not your best day, son,’ Bodie muttered. ‘Next time take a breath and think hard and long before you go in.’
He scanned his surroundings. The empty Arizona desert, a spread of raw land where little grew and the heat of a pitiless sun turned the area into a place men avoided if there was a choice. Nothing moved in his sight. He became aware of the hot sun on his back, penetrating his shirt. The soft drift of the desert breeze that picked up sand and threw it back and forth. Already his lips and mouth were dry again. What little water he’d got from his draining canteen was already losing its effect. If he stayed where he was the relentless heat would work on him until every last drop of moisture was sucked out of him. If he didn’t get to where he could find cover and water Billy Dancer wouldn’t need to use up his ammunition. The desert would kill Bodie as sure as any bullet.
‘Hey, Bodie, warm day, huh?’
Dancer couldn’t resist his taunt. Taking pleasure from Bodie’s discomfort.
‘I got an extra canteen here, bounty man. You want some? Just step out and I’ll think about sharing.’
Thanks, Billy, Bodie thought. He ignored Dancer.
He had positioned Dancer from his voice. Dancer was behind a jagged line of shallow rocks jutting up from the sand some thirty feet away. The knowledge didn’t remove the threat but at least it showed where Dancer was.
Bodie checked his Colt again. Measured the distance. In truth not that far, but with Dancer covering him it might as well have been a country mile. In the end Bodie had no choice. The Colt represented his only chance to defend himself. If he didn’t do something…
With his mind made up Bodie moved. There was no point stretching it out. Waiting wasn’t going to bring his revolver closer. He dug in his boots and lunged forward, over the dead horse, his body straining as he reached out for the gun.
His move must have caught Dancer by surprise and it took the concealed shooter seconds to recover.
Bodie’s outstretched fingers were reaching for the Colt when Dancer’s rifle crashed. The slug smacked into the ground inches away...there was a pause as Dancer levered another shell into the breech.
Bodie was almost there, resisting the urge to think about a slug slamming into his body. He concentrated on reaching the revolver.
The second shot came.
Bodie felt the slug tear at his left arm, jerking it aside. He made the final effort and closed his fingers over the hot butt of the pistol, yanking it to him. His fingers closed tight and he pulled the weapon around, thumbing back the hammer and putting a shot in the direction of Dancer’s hiding place. The moment he fired Bodie dragged himself back behind cover, hearing yet another shot, forcing himself up and over the horse’s bulk. The slug pounded at the carcass as Bodie dropped out of sight. He landed on his back, panting from the exertion. Sweat beaded his face.
Dancer opened up with a hard volley. Driving shot after shot at the dead horse. Bodie managed a thin smile at Dancer’s rage.
Go ahead, Billy, waste your ammunition.
He felt the rising pain from his arm and put down the Colt so he could check the wound. He rolled up the blood-sodden sleeve and exposed the damage. The slug had torn a raw and ragged trench in the flesh, just above his elbow. It hadn’t damaged the bone but the wound was bleeding freely and the flesh was open and raw.
‘Dancer, you son of a bitch,’ Bodie said.
He used his knife to hack at his shirt, cutting the right arm free and used it to wrap tightly around the wound. He sliced off a thin strip as a tie, using his free hand and his teeth to secure it. It took him a few attempts before he managed to get it in place. He was the first to admit it was clumsy and it wasn’t the best way to treat an open wound. There wasn’t much he could about it at the moment. By the time he’d done the arm was giving him considerable pain. Bodie figured if he could feel it at least he was still alive.
He picked up the Colt again. Took a little time to scan the surrounding terrain. With it being reasonably flat he was able to see a distance. He was looking for Dancer’s partners.
Vince Cagle and Tobe Benedict would be somewhere nearby. They might even be riding in now, alerted by the shooting.
Bodie didn’t fancy letting himself become trapped by all three. He needed to get clear. Allow himself some breathing space. To do that he had to break away from his current position. Which meant doing something about Billy Dancer.
But what?
He needed to work out something fast. Time wasn’t on his side.
Chapter Six
In the end Bodie realized he wasn’t going to be allowed any fancy tricks to get him out of this bind . Dancer was waiting and Bodie had no magic solution to take the man off his back. It was no time for debating the issue.
He took a quick look around. Twenty yards at his back Bodie spotted a slight rise in the ground. A low ridge that ran east to west. It might be nothing more than an irregular formation and he had no way of knowing what lay beyond it. It could, he imagined, be the lip of a dried out water course. If that was so it would most likely provide a shallow gulley he could use for cover. He also accepted it might also be a ridge in the earth with nothing beyond. Bodie figured whatever it offered it had to an improvement on a dead horse. Flies were already converging on the carcass and before long it would start to smell.
He checked the Colt. Spun the cylinder to make sure it was clear. Reaching down he wedged the big knife firm in its sheath. When he’d fallen from his horse he had lost his hat. It lay close by and he grabbed it now, jamming it tight on his head. Bodie turned, his back against the horse and stared at the ridge. Took a couple of deep breaths. Then he gathered his legs under him and pushed to his feet, digging in hard with his boots, and took off in a weaving run.
Good goddamn this had better
work, he told himself.
Dancer’s first shot whacked into the ground feet away. It kicked up a sandy geyser. Bodie kept moving, knowing there would be more shots. He moved left and right, presenting a difficult target. He resisted the urge to look back, even pushing away the need to return fire. Dancer had the advantage using a long gun. Even so the next couple of shots were way off target and Bodie was beginning to feel Dancer was not such a good shot anyhow. By the law of averages the man would eventually get lucky. Bodie put on a spurt, his eyes fixed on the ridge ahead.
On the periphery of his vision he caught movement off to his right. Blurred at first but quickly taking on form. A pair of riders coming in his direction, spurring their mounts hard as they angled towards him.
Cagle and Benedict.
It had to be them.
Bodie saw the ridge line coming up. Increased his speed and cleared the ridge, taking himself over in a full dive. He had the impression of a steep slope dropping away from him. Heard the rattle of multiple shots that hit the ridge behind him. He slammed face down, his momentum carrying him forward, raising a cloud of sandy dust in his wake. The slope ran down at a steep angle and Bodie felt his own body weight pulling along. He hit bottom, feeling the scrape of hard, dry earth under him. His hat flew from his head again and this time he had no opportunity to snatch it up again.
Bodie twisted round, coming up on one knee, saw movement on the rim of the bank above him.
Billy Dancer, face twisted in anger as he angled his rifle down at Bodie…who snapped up his Colt, hammer back and finger against the trigger. The revolver fired flame and smoke. Dancer let out a screech as the .45 slug slammed into his left shoulder. The heavy lead slug punched a bloody exit hole, the force knocking Dancer back from the rim and dumping him on his knees. He dropped his rifle, clasping a hand to his shoulder, pain from the wound kicking in seconds later.
The moment he dropped the trigger Bodie pushed to his feet and turned, heading along the gulley. He needed to gain distance. Cover from Cagle and Benedict. Wounding Dancer might have bought him some time, but he wasn’t about to count on it lasting long. Dancer’s partners were not going to allow him much freedom from pursuit.