Bodie 7

by Neil Hunter

  As much as he wanted to relax Bodie knew he could not let that happen. Cagle and Benedict were still trailing after him, and now he had reached the comparative safety of Pinto Wells, they would be closing in. He scooped up a final drink, brushed his hair back from his face and turned to see what was happening.

  Cagle and Benedict were moving in. With a difference now. They had split apart, each man coming from a separate direction. They were going to catch Bodie between them. Give him two targets to deal with. He watched their slow, deliberate approach. Still keeping out of range, making wide circular approaches. They were thinking this out. A sight smarter than Billy Dancer’s head on charge.

  Bodie backed off, seeking his best position. Pinto Wells was an island of rock set in the desert sand. A mass of weathered rocks that ranged from man sized chunks up to boulders the size of a house. Some even larger. A seemingly haphazard collection that might have been assembled by a giant’s hands. Here and there within the gaps and cracks were clumps of tough grass, cholla, ocotillo. Bodie saw ironwood and mesquite around the perimeter. Hardy plants that had gained a foothold and survived by drawing moisture that seeped into the soil as overspill from the rock pans. Bodie spotted a Gecko lizard sunning itself on a flat rock. He knew there would be rattlesnakes around too, most likely staying in the shade. As long as they were not disturbed Bodie didn’t see them as a threat.

  He stepped up on one of the highest boulders. It allowed him to see the surrounding area clearly. And pick out Cagle and Benedict.

  Cagle was to the west, his partner more or less east. At that moment they were patiently sitting their saddles, watching. Bodie knew that situation was not going to last forever. The pair would make their move when it suited them and Bodie was going to have to face that when it happened.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bodie felt the desert breeze stirring across Pinto Wells. It disturbed the brittle vegetation. Sent silver ripples across the pools of water. He heard the dry rattle of sand pattering against the stones. Felt it pluck at his shirt. The overbearing heat of the sun eased off as it began its descent in the west. Shadows lengthened.

  It had been a hell of a day, Bodie decided, and the night wasn’t promising to be much better.

  He checked all his weapons again. Just to be sure. Both Colt pistols were fully loaded and he figured he had in the region of seven, eight shots left in the Henry. Plus the cartridges in his belt. He wasn’t entirely short on ammunition, but to make good use he needed to be able to spot his targets. The closer it came to dark the less opportunity he was going to have.

  Sooner or later he was going to have to make a decision. Wait for Cagle and Benedict to come looking for him – or take the fight to them. Neither solution offered much in the way of comfort. However Bodie approached the problem he knew one thing for certain. It was going to end in a burst of violence. The bitter fact was as solid as the inevitability of the sun going down.

  ~*~

  Darkness followed as the sun dropped behind the western horizon. Heat came off the dry land, the temperature beginning to drop. It was a slow process, so gradual it was easy not to notice until the chill began to invade the body.

  Silverbuck had already drawn a blanket around his shoulders. He had Pinto Wells in his sights. Able to see the pair of waiting Pinda Lickoyi. He was curious as to how they were going to strike against Bodie. The man hunter was at the high point of the island of rocks, most likely able to watch his enemies and left with the choice of which one to deal with first.

  Bodie was skilled. He would make a decision and when he struck it would be quickly and Silverbuck had no doubt deadly. Bodie gave little quarter. He killed without hesitation when there was the need and he was the one who decided on that need.

  Silverbuck watched. And waited. Knowing his time was coming. The time when he, who used to be called Massai, would take his revenge for his earlier defeat at the hand of the one called Bodie. It had been a long time and Silverbuck had asked Ussen on many occasions to grant him the power to find and defeat Bodie. Now that wish was to be allowed and Bodie would die.

  As he observed Silverbuck allowed a smile to curl his mouth. Even thought the one called Bodie was an enemy, there was respect in Silverbuck. It was how it should be. There would be little honor in killing a man he did not respect. There was enough Apache blood in Silverbuck to have those thoughts for his opponent. And it would sit well that when he killed the Pinda Lickoyi it would be a deed well done.

  ~*~

  Tobe Benedict shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. He was beginning to think this was not such a good idea after all. Dancer was dead and Cagle – well Cagle was bound and determined to have his reckoning with the bounty man.

  Bodie was sitting somewhere in the mass of rocks most likely just waiting them out because there wasn’t much else he could do. They had done what they set out to do. Get him at a disadvantage. But it even that wasn’t working out exactly as planned.

  Now they had shot his horse from under him and pushed him into the desert, on foot, and with only his handgun. That was until he had shot and killed Dancer. Which had been the kid’s own fault going off hog wild and not doing much thinking before he acted. Bodie had put him down. Had also taken Dancer’s rifle and lit out to hide in the rocks of Pinto Wells.

  Benedict still wanted his piece off flesh. No denying that. But he was starting to wonder if this was the way to do it. Bodie was lodged in the rocks while he and Cagle were standing watch over him. They were staying well out of rifle range. The trouble there was that it worked both ways. While Bodie’s rifle couldn’t reach them they couldn’t get to him with theirs. It was a standoff. No argument. Benedict was hard put trying to figure out how they were going to break that stalemate.

  Deciding he’d sat long enough Benedict slid out of the saddle to ease his aching bones. Thinking hard he started to come around to believing maybe they hadn’t gone about this the best way they could. It had seemed a good idea at the start but after losing Elkins and his two men, and then Dancer, Benedict realized they had already paid a big price and still had Bodie to deal with. Benedict was ready to admit the man they were up against was one of the best. The man hunter worked in a direct, no questions asked manner. There was little sentiment in the way he operated. The man was relentless. He never quit once he was dogging a man’s trail and it was a known fact he brought in more men dead than alive. It saved a lot of problems that way. Reduced the need for a trials and cut through the paperwork. Give the man a wanted poster and there was little more needed doing.

  Benedict looped his reins around a tough stem of ocotillo, hoping the tether would persuade his horse to stay put. The animal was as weary as its rider, so Benedict was expecting it to remain where it was. He slid his Winchester into the scabbard and pulled out his Colt. The handgun would work better close up, because that was what Benedict was about to venture. He had run out of patience as far as waiting for Cagle to make a move.

  With shadows deepening Benedict closed in on the mass of rocks, pausing often and telling himself this was a damn sight better than just sitting on his butt waiting – waiting for what? He still wasn’t clear in his mind what his partner had in mind. Cagle had a habit of making decisions but not always passing those decisions on.

  So this time Tobe Benedict was making the move himself.

  It was his ass on the line so he figured he should make the choice.

  He reached the outer barrier of Pinto Wells. Crouched against the rocks where he could still feel heat residue through his shirt. Apart from a whispered soughing of wind and the occasional rattle of drifted sand it was quiet. The near silence could be unnerving. The absence of extraneous noise was something that put Benedict’s nerves on edge.

  He debated the need for silence himself. If he was expecting to catch Bodie unaware he would sure as hell need to do it without a lot of noise.

  Benedict sat down and eased off the boots. Leather soles and hard heels were not the quietest footwear. And the sp
urs he wore attached had a habit of jingling unexpectedly. His thick socks would muffle any movement he made. Benedict balanced his hat over the top of the boots when he stood them together.

  Son, you’ve done some crazy things in your life but this one tops them all.

  Then he eased around the fringe of Pinto Wells until he was able to start to climb. Benedict negotiated the first rocks, his eyes searching the shadows. They crisscrossed the rock faces, making it hard to separate actual images from imaginary.

  Benedict figured Bodie would have chosen a high point that would give him a clear eye line. Which meant it was possible he might have seen Benedict’s approach. He understood he could already be in the bounty man’s sights. It was an unnerving thought. Too late to back away now.

  Benedict was fully committed. And he had no thoughts on backing away. Whatever else Tobe Benedict might be he was no coward. Bodie was good, he gave the man that, but in the end he was only human. And that meant he could be killed as well as the next man.

  As he moved Benedict allowed a single thought to fill his mind.

  Three years.

  Three years spent locked away in that stinking hole they called Yuma Pen. Years of his life take from him because of Bodie. Benedict’s fingers gripped the butt of the Colt. Years he could never get back. So he was doing this to pay Bodie back. Benedict had lost three years – now Bodie was going to lose his life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bodie, never one to take anything at face value, had kept a constant watch on Cagle and Benedict’s moves. It proved harder as the day’s light began to fade. He found himself having to alternate between the pair, wishing one of them would move closer so he could use the Henry rifle. They didn’t, so his hope was left dangling. It was obvious the two were playing a waiting game. There was not going to be a wild attack similar to the one that had brought Billy Dancer down. Cagle and Benedict were old hands. Men who had lived too long to throw their lives away on a whim. They were content to sit and wait until the moment came.

  The sun was well below the horizon and Bodie felt something was going to happen any time soon. He wasn’t far off with his guessing. He had been watching the waiting riders, shifting his gaze back and forth because it was all he could do. Cagle and Benedict separating had put pressure on Bodie. He had no choice but to keep checking between the pair. Shifting position to keep them each in sight.

  And then he saw that Benedict had gone from his saddle. In the time Bodie had been watching Cagle, Tobe Benedict had moved. His riderless horse stood motionless and Bodie knew that Benedict was moving in towards Pinto Wells.

  It had happened, he had missed it, and there was no point in berating himself. Bodie eased his way across the rocks, checking the open ground between Benedict’s former position and the beginning of the wells. He had to give Benedict marks for a fast move. If the man kept to his first move he was about to stay quiet. Climb up from ground level and tackle Bodie head on.

  Bodie laid the Henry down. A rifle was ideal for long distance shooting but could be unwieldy up close. A handgun, or even a knife would be better for the kind of killing Benedict would have in mind. He was making this personal. There would be a great deal of feeling behind Benedict’s move.

  Three years of feeling. Anger that would have built up while the man was behind Yuma’s stone walls and iron bars.

  Bodie crouched in the shadows, his senses tuned to pick up any sign of Benedict’s approach.

  Time went by unnoticed. The shadows around Bodie lessened slightly as starlight cast a soft glow over Pinto Wells. It was not direct light but dissipated the darkness slightly and gave Bodie the chance to observe anything that moved within his vicinity.

  Bodie had developed the ability to remain still for long periods. A trait that his profession demanded. It came from his need to watch and wait for his man to move closer. To hold back until the time was right, because that difference was the measure between life and death. Over the years Bodie had developed his skill from not just practice, but by observing others. He had taken his cue studying them. Indian and white had been his teachers and Bodie had absorbed what he saw. Stilling his body, slowing his breathing, training his eyes to pick up the slightest of movements. To see and hear the minutest suggestions that betrayed the presence of another human. He took it all in when the chance arose until it had become part of himself.

  He saw a flicker of movement in the shadows of a rock outcrop. The faintest shift of darkness that detached from the deeper whole. There had been no reason for the occurrence. So it meant the presence of something – more likely someone. Too high off the level to have been caused by a small creature like a lizard. The bulk suggested a human animal flitting silently by.

  Tobe Benedict most likely.

  Bodie gave the man his due. He had breached the rock formation with ease. Silent and fast.

  Bodie remained still. His attention focussed on the spot. Now he could make out the crouched form of the man, Benedict’s shape slowly coming into view as he cleared the bulk of rock and exposed himself. Faint light slid along the metal of the gun in Benedict’s right hand.

  Bodie eased his left hand back to the knife sheathed on his side. He drew the keen blade and passed it to his right hand. He hadn’t wanted to pull his Colt. Even easing back the hammer might cast a faint sound that could reach Benedict’s ears. The knife was silent, in operation and delivery.

  Close now, no more than a few feet, Benedict froze, the dark shape of his head casting from side to side. He was checking his position, searching for Bodie. Caution dictating his actions. He rose from his lowered position and it seemed to Bodie the man had reached a decision.

  When Benedict moved his gun hand round Bodie pushed forward, coming out of his dark corner and struck with frightening speed, left hand reaching to grip the man’s gun wrist, the cold blade of his knife streaking in at Benedict’s body. The blade sank in to the hilt, Bodie twisting it hard.

  Benedict let out a high, shivering scream of pure terror as he felt the blade cutting into his body.

  His finger jerked on the trigger and his gun slammed out a shot.

  Bodie worked the knife in the wound, ignoring Benedict’s agonised screams. He wanted the matter over and done. He felt the warm spurt of blood from Benedict’s body. Sliding his hand along Benedict’s wrist Bodie grabbed for the pistol and wrenched it free. He heard it clatter against rock when he dropped it. Benedict struck out with his fists, catching Bodie alongside the head, but his blows were already weakening. Bodie reached up and clamped his free hand around Benedict’s throat, fingers digging in. He pushed Benedict back a few steps until the man came up against a slab of rock. Bodie held him there as Benedict struggled against the encroaching weakness his massive blood loss had caused.

  ‘…wanted you dead,’ he said, his voice gone to a soft whisper, the effort almost too much.

  ‘Not happening,’ Bodie said. ‘You first…’

  He gave the knife a final thrust and Benedict’s legs slid from under him. Bodie let the man go, Benedict slumping to the surface of the rock, loose and looking like a man without bones.

  Bodie stepped back, the bloody knife hanging at his side. He was sweating despite the chill in the air. Then he turned and stared off to where he had seen Vince Cagle sitting his horse.

  Cagle was on the move, his mount picking its way in the direction of the wells.

  ‘Come get some,’ Bodie said softly and walked to where he had laid down his rifle.

  He slid the bloody knife back in its sheath, checked the Henry and his holstered Colt.

  He wanted this to be over. Done. And the hell with bringing in Cagle alive to tell where he had hidden all that stolen gold. As far as Bodie was concerned Cagle was just another wanted man, with a reward posted for him. If he did bring in Cagle dead he wasn’t going to be popular with the banks that had lost money. The hell with them, Bodie decided, he wasn’t in business to try and win friends. He simply wanted to stay alive.

  C
hapter Sixteen

  Bodie eased to the edge of the rocks and watched Vince Cagle ride down from where he’d been waiting. A full moon was rising, casting a cold light that let Bodie follow Cagle’s progress as he brought himself into range. The move was deliberate. As if Cagle no longer worried over presenting himself as an open target. He must have heard Benedict’s single gunshot.

  He couldn’t have known it came from Benedict’s gun. It might have easily been Bodie’s shot. Either way Cagle was taking a big risk. He knew Bodie’s reputation. Would have understood he was putting himself in a position where Bodie could take a clear shot.

  Bodie shouldered the Henry, easing his finger to the trigger and put Cagle in his sights.

  Then Cagle’s left arm swept up, the rifle he was holding snapping into position and he began to trigger a burst of shots aimed at Bodie’s position. The shots were close, tearing off splinters of rock and flinging them at Bodie. He drew back, feeling the sharp sting across the side of his face and by the time he searched for Cagle the man had disappeared in the dark overhang of the rock mass.

  He had to give credit to Cagle. The man had worked fast, not expecting his volley to find a definite target, but heavy enough to make Bodie pull back.

  Bodie turned and crossed the high rocks, using what light from the moon he could to show him where Cagle might be. When he paused, listening, he picked up the sound of boots scraping against rock. It made him think back to something that had barely registered at the time. The sight of Benedict’s stockinged feet as he had fallen in front of Bodie. A simple enough thing to do – remove his boots to muffle the sound of his approach.

  Not something Vince Cagle had thought about. He might have reached Bodie’s refuge, but he was advertising his presence in his hurry to get to the man hunter.