by Neil Hunter
‘He’ll have enough to handle here,’ Bodie said. ‘All I need to do is find Sam Trask and finish what I started.’
‘You make it sound easy?’
Bodie finished his coffee, stood, and held out his hand to Pointer.
‘Ezra, I didn’t say it was going to be easy.’
Chapter Fifteen
Bodie figured he had a good hour before fading light forced him to stop for the night. He had been moving north from the moment he had departed from Colton, through the day and now into the fading afternoon.
Before leaving town he had spent time with Ezra Pointer going over the map of the area. Pointer knew the country and the trails that would lead to the border. He understood the formation of the hills. The high slopes and the likely ways a man on the move would take in order to clear his path to Canada. Bodie studied the big map pinned to the wall in Pointer’s office and made his own mental notes, using a combination of the lawman’s suggestions and his own skills as a hunter of men. He picked out the areas that would defeat a horse and rider. Memorized the open ways. The heavy timbered sections and the spread of winding canyons that might lead a man to a dead-end where he would have to turn around and go back. With the eye of a tracker well versed in following down a hunted man Bodie saw the likeliest way Trask would go and followed his hunch.
Trask had not covered his trail during his first miles from the Gibbs home. Then he had simply been running, making distance between himself and what he had done. Trask had acted hastily by killing the Gibbs. Panicking because he had reacted to the gunfire outside the Gibbs’ house, self-preservation dictating his actions. And when Bodie had made his appearance Trask had fired on him without thought. Preservation had turned to panic and Trask had run. Stopping only to saddle his horse and take another for backup he had ridden away from the refuge provided to escape. Making his try for the border and the vast Canadian landscape.
Bodie had picked up tracks from the Gibbs’ house. A ridden horse and a second animal being led. Trask was hedging his bet by taking along a second mount. Being able to alternate one for the other would give him an advantage. Ride for a time, then change saddles to allow the first horse to rest. Bodie realized he was dealing with a man who had been on the run before. Trask played a long game.
The tracks, faint as they were, led Bodie ever north and always climbing. Trask was aiming for the high ground, crossing the hills as he sought sanctuary over the border. Bodie set the chestnut on the trail, letting the animal find its own pace as it began the long climb. The chestnut was a powerful animal. It had good staying power and Bodie had trusted it on many occasions. It had never let him down.
When it got too dark to continue Bodie picked a spot and climbed down. He stood for a while, hand on the saddle, breathing slow and deep. He was stiff and sore. Doc Meerschaum had advised against making a long ride so soon and had voiced his feelings before Bodie had departed Colton. He had offered Bodie a bottle of Laudanum to take if the pain became too much. Bodie had thanked him but had declined. He understand the narcotic effect of the potion. The last thing he needed was to be so sedated he fell asleep and dropped from the saddle.
‘Doc, any discomfort it get will keep me awake. Last thing I need is to be riding around like a sleepwalker. Believe me, the only sleeping I’ll be doing will be when I’m wrapped in my blankets—on the ground.’
He had picked a spot near a stream that flowed down out of the hills, bordered by brush and trees. There was enough grass to keep the chestnut fed. Bodie let the horse drink, tethered it and off saddled. He cleared a spot and built a small fire. Out of his possibles bag he produced what he needed. A small cast iron fry pan and his battered coffee pot. He unwrapped a side of bacon and used his knife to cut a couple of thick slices. While the food cooked he made himself a brew of black coffee. It might not have been the best meal he’d ever had but at least it was hot. So was the coffee and he managed three mugs before the pot ran out. From behind his saddle he loosened his thick short coat and pulled it on. He could feel the chill the night brought with it, and settling next to his fire Bodie could hear the wind soughing down from the divide over to the north. The air had a distinct sharpness to it. He suspected that the temperature would drop even more and he was grateful he had camped in amongst a stand of timber. It wouldn’t stop the cold getting to him but it would help.
With his blankets wrapped over his thick coat, hat pulled low Bodie leaned against his saddle and did his best not to feel too sorry for himself. He would have been the first to admit he was less than at his best. Since his arrival in the area he had been pretty well battered about, then shot, so he figured he was allowed a little self-pity. He listened to the constant moan of the wind, hoping there was no snow around. That would just about be the last straw. Though it didn’t offer him a deal of consolation he realized Sam Trask would be having the same kind of uncomfortable night. Unless he had found better cover.
Bodie had pulled his leather gloves on and tucked his arms around himself against the cold. For no discernible reason an image of Ruby Keoh came into his mind. Her cheerful face, long shining hair down to her shoulders. If she saw him now she would most likely call him all kinds of a fool for letting himself get in such a situation and in a way he couldn’t deny the accusation. But this was what he did. It was his job. Risky and often downright dangerous. He put himself out on a limb chasing all kinds of wanted men and for what?
The rewards?
Or the satisfaction of putting them behind bars?
It wasn’t something Bodie gave much thought to. Maybe he should. Since meeting Ruby there had been a shift in his life. That young woman had made a difference. He was unable to deny that—not that he actually fought against the notion. Ruby Keoh. Young and beautiful, with a strong personality and a way with words that made him see the brighter side of life.
Right now that was a long way from this cold, dark spot on the side of a damn mountain somewhere in the Dakotas. If he hadn’t been here he could have been in some warm dining room in New York, sharing a meal with Ruby. A fine steak. A bottle of rich wine and a good cigar.
Close by the chestnut snorted in displeasure at the cold, stamping her hoofs.
‘Yeah, I know just how you feel, horse. Just think yourself lucky. You carry your own fur coat around with you.’
He tugged his blankets tighter around him and let himself drift off into sleep. It wasn’t easy because Ruby’s face kept appearing in his mind, smiling. Teasing. And always just out of reach.
~*~
First light brought a frost that covered everything. Bodie’s blankets were stiff with the cold. Working his aching body into action Bodie coaxed his fire to life. His fingers were a shade less than numb and he had to flex life back into them despite the leather gloves. He fed the fire. Got coffee brewing and bacon frying. He was definitely beginning to take a disliking to bacon at the moment. He found a couple of reasonably edible biscuits in his supplies and soaked them in the hot fat from the bacon. Downing the food and mugs of hot coffee helped to bring him fully round. He pushed to his feet and moved around to bring some life into his stiff limbs. He washed his pan and coffee pot in the stream and packed them in the possibles bag. When he went through his saddlebags he came across a bundle of thin cigars he’d forgotten about. He extracted one and lit with a wood sliver from the dying cook fire. Bodie stood inhaling the smoke and he could have sworn the tobacco eased some of his aches. He also knew he wasn’t fooling himself but it felt good for the moment. As he pushed the other cigars into his shirt pocket, along with his wrapped supply of Lucifers he felt he was being watched. It was the chestnut. She was eyeing him with a baleful stare. Bodie felt sure she curled her lips in annoyance.
‘Fool horse,’ he said, ‘what good is a damn cigar to you?’ Using one of his blankets he rubbed the chestnut’s exposed back and flanks, removing the layer of frost. ‘Things I have to do to keep you happy,’ he grumbled.
The chestnut shook her head, making a soft nicke
ring sound. While he dried the horse’s back Bodie checked the sky over the distant peaks. The morning light showed a moving bank of cloud that told him some bad weather was moving in. At this altitude it could be rain—or even snow. Which thought didn’t make Bodie any happier.
A fall of snow this high up would create problems for Bodie. Travel would become difficult and lowering temperatures would make life even more hazardous. Any tracks left behind could be quickly wiped away if any storm persisted for a long period. The only consolation there was the conditions would become difficult for Sam Trask as well as for Bodie.
He saddled the chestnut and fixed his gear behind the saddle. He led the horse to the stream and allowed her to drink. He refilled his canteen with fresh water and hung it from the saddle, then eased himself on board, gathering the reins and picking up the fading trail of two horses.
His line of travel took him from open slopes to timbered. Across shale beds and hard pan. Bodie kept the chestnut moving slow and steady. The canny animal picked its way with care, negotiating the difficult sections with an almost dainty step.
As the day grew around him Bodie was glad he had kept his coat on. The air against his face was taking on a decided chill. He had buttoned the coat up tight and favored the gloves he was wearing. A couple of hours in and the weather took a definite bad turn. The sky over the peaks became covered in heavy, dark cloud. Hunched over Bodie reminded himself of the dry southwest territory, where even the wind held warmth. Now all he could look forward to was more than likely freezing temperatures.
Moving along a winding, narrow ravine, with high slopes on either side Bodie drew rein as he lost the tracks. He sat and cast around. Trask had come into the ravine and it was unlikely he had climbed out. The only way was forward. Bodie let the chestnut keep moving, peering at the hard ground. It took him almost a mile before he spotted disturbed stones, the darker undersides still showing where they had been overturned. He raised his eyes to check ahead and saw where tough grass stalks had been broken as horse’s hoofs had passed by.
He noticed the light fading overhead as the threatening clouds closed in. minutes later he felt the first cold touch of snow on his face. The light fall persisted, gradually increasing until it gathered around him and settled.
Bodie settled in for the long ride ahead. He leaned forward and stroked the chestnut’s powerful neck, using encouraging words. The horse would most likely be having similar feelings where the weather was concerned. He had no idea how long the snow might continue, or how heavily. The only thing he did know for certain was things were liable to get worse before they got better.
Late in the afternoon Bodie came across the dead horse. It lay where it had fallen, the bones of its left foreleg showing through the flesh. He dismounted and checked the carcass. It had been dead at least a full day—maybe more—by its condition. There was a ragged bullet hole in the horse’s head.
An accident most likely. Maybe caused because Trask was pushing ahead without taking enough care over the uneven ground and had paid the price by losing his spare mount. Whatever the reason the fugitive had forfeited some of his advantage. He was down to a single horse now. It would slow him some.
Down to a single horse and with the weather closing in Sam Trask wasn’t getting his own way. He might find evading capture not such an easy matter.
The snow was falling heavily when Bodie decided to stop for the night. It had already dropped a good few inches on the uneven slopes and the drift of wind buffeting down from the higher slopes did nothing to lessen the effect. With the ground underfoot thickly layered Bodie knew that combined with the oncoming darkness keeping on the move was risky. So he looked for a place where he could make camp for the night. Shadows were lengthening as he came on a shallow ravine where part of one bank offered a reasonable refuge from the full drop of snow. It might not protect him completely but he wasn’t in a position to make too many demands.
‘Looks like our spot,’ Bodie said.
He guided the chestnut into a wide cleft in the side of the ravine. Snow had only drifted a few yards in and after that the broken rock was clear. It might change if the wind direction altered. Bodie saw it as his only choice.
He off-saddled and let the chestnut stand free. There was little chance the horse would wander. She had nowhere to go. The cleft petered out after a couple of hundred feet ahead and the chestnut had sense not to turn around and wander out into the snowstorm. Bodie laid his blanket roll on a smooth section of ground, settled with his back against his saddle and lit up one of his cigars. He had no means of lighting a fire so that meant no hot food, or coffee.
‘Whichever way you look at it horse, we are damn fools putting ourselves through all this.’
The chestnut turned at the sound of his voice, lowering her head and fixed him with a look that seemed to agree with him.
Bodie hugged his coat tight around him, pushing his gloved hand under his arms. It was going to be a long, cold night.
Chapter Sixteen
US Marshal Alvin LeRoy rode into Colton with cold rain following him. It had already muddied the street. LeRoy reined in at the jail, dismounted and tied his horse. He stepped up to the door, opened it and eased inside. Heat met him, coming from the stove against one wall. As LeRoy closed the door behind him Ezra Pointer looked up from the paperwork on his desk.
He took a look at the lean, strong-boned man. LeRoy was dressed in black, wide brimmed hat low over his face. He gazed around the comfortable office with its polished furniture and saw a woman’s touch. For a moment he was envious.
‘Alvin LeRoy. US Marshal.’
Pointer watched him shrug out of the black slicker and hang it from one of the pegs next to the door. When he turned the polished badge on his vest caught the lamplight.
‘You made good time, Marshal,’ Pointer said.
‘The message you sent along suggested it was important.’
‘That it is. Take a seat, Marshal. Dare say you could take a mug of hot coffee. Be with us in a while.’
As LeRoy dropped into one of the chairs, took off his hat and brushed his hair back. Glancing around, he couldn’t see any steaming pot on the stove.
‘Am I missing something?’ LeRoy asked.
‘I own the store next door,’ Pointer explained. ‘My missus always keep an eye out for visitors and brings in a fresh pot.’
‘Nice arrangement.’ LeRoy said. ‘I’d say you have everything set out to your satisfaction.’
‘We try to keep things civilized. Colton is a nice town.’
‘Message I got tells me you’ve had some things happen of late that upset your peace.’
Pointer took out a sheaf of papers from the drawer of his desk and laid them in front of the Marshal. ‘I wrote it all out official like, from start to finish. Expected that would be what you needed.’
LeRoy flicked through the documents. ‘You’ve spent some time on this.’
‘It warranted being done properly.’
‘How about you tell me in your own words. I can go through the written report later. Man’s words can make a difference to the telling.’
Pointer had barely said a few words when the office door opened and Jen Pointer appeared with her loaded tray. She placed it on the desk.
‘Jen, this is US Marshal Alvin LeRoy. My wife, Jen.’
LeRoy stood and offered his hand. ‘Ma’am.’
‘You’ve made good time, Marshal.’
‘Your husband’s message reached me fairly close.’
‘I hope this matter can be settled soon. Nothing has ever happened quite like it before. Colton is generally a peaceful town.’
‘Yes, ma’am. So your husband tells me.’
‘I will leave you to your business.’ Jen Pointer lifted the checkered cloth covering the tray. ‘Fresh coffee and some newly baked biscuits. Please help yourselves. A pleasure to have met you, Marshal LeRoy.’
After his wife had gone Pointer poured coffee for them both, handing a mug to LeR
oy. He settled with his own mug, gathered his thoughts and offered LeRoy the facts.
‘Really started the day the man called Bodie showed up in town…’
LeRoy was a good listener, only interrupting a couple of times to clear a point. By the time Pointer had finished the Marshal was on his second mug of coffee. He sat for a moment seeming to be staring at a spot over Pointer’s shoulder.
‘You tell a good story,’ LeRoy said. ‘That all in your written report?’
‘More or less word for word.’
‘I wanted to hear what you had to say before I told you a few facts,’ LeRoy said. ‘I heard about Sam Trask from my friend Ed Pruitt. Trask is also known as Lester Kincaid and a couple of other names it might interest you to know. Has quite a reputation for cheating and trickery. Keeps on the move. Suspect in a number of murders. He’s a bad hombre. It was pure luck he was caught and held recently. That’s where Ed Pruitt became involved. He picked him up and was on the way to Yankton when their coach went off the road and Trask escaped. Pruitt was lucky to stay alive. The stage driver was shot dead. Pruitt called on Bodie and tasked him with going after the fugitive. I was going to head this way when I cleared up another matter. Then your call reached me so I changed my route to Colton. What I didn’t know was how bad things had got.’
‘Turned really nasty when Will Cabot showed up in town. It all came out after the woman attacked Cabot. Nobody in town had any idea about the connection between Cabot and Monty. Or that Trask was their son.’
‘And she’s locked up back yonder?’
Pointer nodded. ‘Yeah. Doc Meerschaum has her sedated on Laudanum. Be honest, after what she did to Will Cabot, we weren’t sure how she was going to be. Doc said keeping her sedated was as much for her own safety as it was for anyone else’s.’
‘Damn, but this coffee is good. I may ask your wife to ride along with me and brew it up on the trail.’
LeRoy took himself to look over Monty. She lay on one of the cell cots, sleeping restlessly.