by Neil Hunter
Right at that moment it was just how Lance Markham was feeling himself.
Thirty-One
It took a while for Erica to stop the bleeding from Purcell’s shoulder. Bodie had things to do. He hauled each of the three bodies outside and into the cover of the stable, where he covered them with canvas sheets he found neatly folded. When he returned Erica had Purcell settled. She had given him a dose of Laudanum and he had slipped into a fretful sleep.
She was tending the stove when he stepped inside, closing the door and taking off his coat and hat. She poured him a fresh coffee, handing it to him wordlessly. Bodie sensed she was still in some shock over what had happened and didn’t say anything himself.
Later she prepared hot food and they sat facing each other across the table, eating silently until Erica finally spoke.
‘Does this kind of thing follow you around, Bodie? I mean violence and sudden death. I have to ask because to keep me and Henry alive you had to kill three men.’ She paused, shaking her head at her own words. ‘Believe me I am glad you saved us. Was there no alternative?’
Bodie shook his head. ‘If there had been I would have taken it. Men like Bascombe and those others. They use brutality like other men choose fine words. They came here to take what Henry had gathered because if it comes out their crooked plans will be exposed.’ He topped up his coffee. ‘Sorrow has been used to help them get what they want. Henry’s partner was killed and he was framed for it. Bascombe almost killed the man in the telegraph office to get his hands on a message that had been sent to me. Then set fire to the office. Markham’s kind use violence and intimidation to get what they want. It’s their language and they won’t be talked out of it.’
‘That part I can agree to,’ Erika said. She touched fingers to the livid bruise on her face. ‘I was sure Henry and I were going to die. I’m no coward but I was so frightened.’
‘Will Henry be able to make the ride back to town? He needs to see the doctor. No slight on your skills.’
Erica managed a weary smile. ‘My skills lie in doctoring horses. I’m the first to admit that. Henry does need the ministrations of a real medical man.’
‘Soon as it’s light we ride back to Sorrow. Time this was put to rest.’
Bodie cleaned and fully loaded his weapons. He did the same to Erica’s rifle. While he did so he was conscious of her eyes on him, watching as his steady hands cleaned the guns. She might not have fully approved but she was smart enough to understand his precautions. When they returned to Sorrow they might easily find themselves under Markham’s guns. It was not going to be a pleasant visit by any stretch of the imagination so Bodie wanted to be as prepared as he was able.
‘I want you to lead us into town the back way,’ Bodie said. ‘You know the country better than I do so take the lead.’
‘That’s putting a great deal of faith in me.’
‘No, just stating the obvious, Miss Kovacs.’
‘I have a feeling you’ll be telling me we’ll have an early start next.’
Bodie did and she offered him a nervous smile.
‘I shouldn’t have asked.’
Before full darkness fell they went to the stable and prepared the horses. It was Erica who noticed the snowfall lessening as they made their way back to the cabin. The wind had slacked off as well.
‘Do you think Markham will send more out to see why Bascombe hasn’t returned?’
‘It could happen. It’ll be dark in a hour or so. I figure he’ll hold back until morning. Won’t want his people lost in the snow.’
‘Sure of that?’
‘Just hoping for the best. And trusting in your knowledge of the area to get us to sorrow first.’
‘I hope your faith in me isn’t a mistake.’
‘It isn’t.’
Thirty-Two
Joe Rider and his partner Cy Blantyre were men who lived on the edge. Totally amoral characters they would do anything for the right money. Which made them ideal employees as far as Markham was concerned. They were on his payroll. When he had called them in and explained what he wanted them to do they carried out his instructions without question.
McAndrew’s body, wrapped in an old carpet, was duly removed by the rear door and taken away. The pair were gone for an hour and when they returned, suitably pleased with their work, Markham paid them in cash and told them they were needed for more work. He didn’t say anything about Bascombe not returning from Kovac’s cabin. Markham was concerned at the lawman’s failure to come back to Sorrow. Whatever he had done shouldn’t have taken so long. With Bascombe gone from Sorrow Markham decided he needed extra protection. His own safety became paramount.
It was the rule he lived by. Always look out for himself. Let others fall by the wayside if problems arose. He could always buy further protection if need be. And with the way matters were progressing in Sorrow it seemed his number one rule needed strengthening.
His employment was bolstered by the employment of his new assistants.
Both were proficient with the guns they carried. They brought with them reputations that needed no bolstering. Of the two Cy Blantyre was the fastest gun. He had carved his name from the northern heights down through to the southwest. He was known to cripple rather than outright kill, though he had no problem doing that. He left many victims lying where they fell and walking away, deaf to their pleas for mercy. His longtime partner, Joe Rider, never left an opponent alive. He offered killing shots from a gun that was less speedy than his partner’s but always placed his shots where he aimed for. Between them the pair could claim a long list of successful confrontations.
The pair lounged now in Markham’s office, drinking his whisky, never to excess, and his coffee by the potful. Rider devoured dime novels he had brought with him while Blantyre contented himself with a pack of worn playing cards spread over a green baize topped side table. Neither man bothered with small talk, which suited Markham.
None of them had slept much. First light was breaking up the shadows. Rider and Blantyre took turns to doze while Markham was quietly working on his plans for the future. Considering he might need to quit Sorrow and move on to greener pastures. He occasionally glanced across at the solid steel safe standing in one corner of the room. It held a great deal of money. Gained through his time in Sorrow from the enterprises he had developed and the coercion he had placed on a number of businessmen. Having a hand in companies in town, plus his holdings in the local lumber companies, Markham had drawn in substantial amounts. While his long-term developments would have brought in more cash for him and his distant partners Markham felt more and more a parting of the ways as far as they were concerned was in the cards.
That was provided he could clear Sorrow and ride on. He thought of matters threatening to get in his way. Like Henry Purcell and his damned evidence. Of Vince Bascombe, his volatile manner coating difficulties.
And the man called Bodie.
The bounty hunter who was becoming a force to be reckoned with.
Damn the man.
Markham bunched a fist and slammed it down on the desk. The loud crash caused Rider and Blantyre to start, eyes fixing on Markham.
‘There a problem, boss?’ Rider said.
‘Problem? Yes. Goes by the name of Bodie.’
‘The man hunter?’
Markham nodded. ‘That sonofabitch has been nothing but trouble since he showed up.’
‘That sounds like Bodie.’
‘You know him?’
‘Never faced him but he’s got a reputation,’ Blantyre said. Story goes he don’t back down and cuts his own trail when he goes after a man.’
‘Hell on wheels with that handgun he wears,’ Rider said.
‘Well, that all cheers me up,’ Markham said.
‘If he comes this way we’ll handle him. It’s what you’re payin’ us for. An’ we don’t let a fellers reputation make us back away.’
The office door opened, letting in snow flurries. Rider and Blantyre turned in un
ison, handguns snapping from their holsters as they faced the stumbling figure.
‘No...’
The pale face of Silvis Bedloe stared out from the folds of his thick, heavy coat.
‘Ease off, boys, he’s friendly,’ Markham said. ‘And harmless.’
Bedloe closed the door and faced Markham.
‘He’s back in town, Mr. Markham. Bodie. I saw him ride in a little while ago. He’s got the Kovacs woman with him. And Henry Purcell.’
‘Looks like your troubles rode in all by themselves,’ Rider said.
‘Where’d they go? The livery?’
‘Nossir, Mr. Markham. They went up the street and stopped outside Doc Crossley’s office. Hard to see but it looked like Purcell was all hunched up. Like he was ailing.’
Rider gave a low grunt of approval.
‘This could be the chance we want,’ he said. ‘Bodie and Purcell.’ He drew his pistol and checked the loads, Blantyre doing the same. ‘What do we do, boss?’
‘I want Purcell alive. He still has something I need. Bodie is just in the way. Do what you have to but get rid of him. There’ll be a bonus for that.’
‘Kind of language I like to hear,’ Blantyre said.
‘What about the woman?’
Markham took a moment over Rider’s question. Thinking back to what McAndrew had said.
‘Leave her alone. Last thing we need is Sorrow getting all righteous over a wronged woman.’
‘Anything more I can do, Mr. Markham?’ Bedloe said, eager to please.
‘Just keep looking and listening, Silvis. I’ll come by later and we can settle up.’
‘No worries there,’ Bedloe said.
Thirty-Three
Bedloe wrapped himself in his coat and left the office, trudging through the snow that covered the boardwalk. He was almost at the hotel when he sensed a presence. Over his shoulder he recognized the tall figure of Bodie. The man hunter was coming his way and despite his association with Markham he felt an uneasy sensation pass over him.
They stepped inside the building, Bodie closing the door behind him. Bedloe crossed to the desk, shedding his coat and hanging it from a wall hook.
‘Something I can do for you, Mr. Bodie?’
Bodie’s right hand hung close to his holstered gun. The look in his eyes unsettled Bledsoe.
‘Been to see your friend again?’ Bodie said.
‘I don’t see as how that is any of your business, Mr. Bodie. Mr. Markham owns this establishment and I need to see him from time to time. Business matters.’
‘Seems to me it’s mostly other folks’ business you discuss.’
Bedloe’s face flushed.
‘I do not appreciate your questions, Bodie.’
All pretense of politeness disappeared. Bedloe sidestepped behind the desk, his hands dropping out of sight as he reached for something hidden from view.
Bodie saw the dark gleam of gunmetal as Bedloe lifted a pistol. As fast as he was time lagged and Bodie simply launched a big fist, catching Bedloe full in the mouth. the sound of the blow was loud in the lobby. Bedloe flew back, slamming against the wall, blood flowing from his crushed lips. He uttered a shocked cry. Made an attempt to raise the weapon Bodie stepped round the desk and snatched the gun from Bedloe’s hand, tossing it aside. He took hold of the man’s coat and dragged him clear before launching a couple more hard blows. Bedloe’s nose blossomed bright blood as Bodie’s fist found it.
‘And quit going through my things,’ Bodie said. ‘Touch ’em again and I’ll chop off your damn fingers.’
He let the moaning man slide to the floor. As he walked out of the lobby he scooped up the pistol he had taken from Bedloe. He had a feeling he might welcome extra firepower. He pushed it behind his waist under his coat.
Thirty-Four
The snowfall had slackened. It was still coming down but Bodie realized the intensity had diminished and the temperature had risen by a few degrees.
He turned in the direction of Markham’s office. Saw Rider and Blantyre stepping out the door.
The moment they set eyes on him they parted company, each of them reaching for the holstered guns they wore.
‘Take him,’ Rider said, dropping his hand to his pistol.
His draw was a blur, looking almost casual as he pulled the gun clear, hammer already back as the tip of the barrel cleared the leather. His single shot blended with Bodie’s own. A half-smile curled Rider’s lips as he saw Bodie twist to one side, face registering the hit and Rider figured it was over – but a second later he took a hard blow to his chest. He came to a complete stop. Unsure what had happened until the pain came and he stumbled back and dropped to the boardwalk, spitting blood.
Before Rider went down Bodie let himself fall from the boardwalk, landing on his shoulder in the street and rolling through the thick carpet of snow. He came up on his knees, supporting himself on his outflung left arm, aware of the burning sensation in his side where Rider’s shot had struck, but pushing that aside as he brought up his gun hand.
Blantyre was tracking his move, his own gun following Bodie and he fired almost by instinct. His gun blossomed flame, the .45 slug kicking up a spurt of snow inches from Bodie’s moving form.
Bodie took precious seconds to settle before he eased back on the trigger. Felt the Colt kick in his hand. Caught the moment his shot hit Blantyre high in the torso, pushing him back across the boardwalk, arms flailing. He struck the window behind him. Glass shattered and Blantyre hung there for a moment, the sleeve of his coat caught in the splintered frame.
Bodie shot him twice more before Blantyre could free himself. He had enough time to center his aim and calmly put the shots into the man, directly over the heart. Blantyre slumped, still hooked on the window frame, and slid to his knees. His head dropped forward to fall against his chest.
Pushing upright Bodie fought back a wave of nausea. His side was really hurting now. The pain deep. He stood facing the office, knowing he still had one more thing to do.
Lance Markham was still in there. On his own now. That could make him even more dangerous. Without his paid-for backup Markham would need to fight his own battle.
Movement some way along the street drew Bodie’s attention.
It was Helga Regis, wrapping a wide cloak around her as she started along the boardwalk.
‘Stay there,’ Bodie said. ‘Stay away...’
Thirty-Five
From the alley at the side of Markham’s office a muffled figure appeared. It was Markham having slipped out of the building by the side door. A heavy leather satchel strung around his neck, he stepped forward and caught hold of Helga’s cloak. With a hard pull Helga was drawn tight against him.
The muzzle of a handgun was jammed against the side of her neck.
Helga managed to stay silent. No apparent panic.
‘Bodie, drop the gun. Do it or the lady catches a bullet. Believe me I am not making idle threats.’
Helga spoke, her voice low.
‘You can’t get away with something like this, Lance.’
‘I can try. Now throw that gun away, Bodie. Right now. I’m desperate enough to take my chances out here. Believe me I will put a bullet in this woman if you push me too far.’
Bodie let his Colt drop from his grip, lifted his hands to show they were clear.
‘Now what do we do? Say, just satisfy my curiosity and tell me where the hell you’re going to go. We’re nigh on snowed in here.’
‘A man turns his cards and plays the hand. It’s a risk but if you don’t take them...Bodie, you’ve left me no choice’
‘That bag you’re toting? Got the money you’ve cheated the town out of?’
‘A very great deal of money. Enough to set me up somewhere else. I’m no fool. I know damn well Henry Purcell has gathered evidence against me. Enough to convict me of fraud and manipulation. If they catch me. So it’s time to leave this delightful part of the country. Look for somewhere warmer away from the frozen north.’
‘You had Purcell’s partner killed to try and keep your secrets. Only you didn’t expect him to come back to Sorrow.’
‘Have to admit that was a shock. Dan Preece took off hoping to kill him. Made a mess of that. I take it you shot him?’
‘Seemed the right thing to do at the time.’
‘Dan Preece made a stupid move.’
‘One he isn’t about to make again.’
‘Now it’s my turn to move and leave this godforsaken place behind. Listen, Bodie. I’m going to take my horse and go. Helga is coming with me. Any attempt to stop me and I will shoot her.’
Markham began to back away, keeping his gun at Helga’s neck and his arm around her waist.
Bodie watched him, slowly moving forward, conscious of the gun he had picked up at the hotel pressing against his spine.
Not yet. Wait until you get a clear shot.
‘Don’t make me shoot her,’ Markham said.
Helga’s eyes settled on Bodie. Her expression was solid. She offered no resistance as Markham drew her along the street.
‘You should stay away,’ Markham said. ‘Keep coming and she will end up dead.’
‘She’s your only cover. You aren’t going to lose that.’
Markham took a deep breath as he considered his options. Which were not many. He was committed now. No way to turn. Panic rose. He gripped the cocked pistol, feeling sweat coat his palm, finger against the trigger.
This was not how he had planned for things to go. Everything had been running smoothly until...
His feet slipped on the iced boardwalk, leaving him briefly out of control. Markham almost cried out. Then he regained his balance, a thin smile curving his mouth.
‘Almost lost it there, Helga. You realize how close you came? Too close.’
‘Just do what you have to, Lance, without all the useless talk.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Always the feisty one, Helga. If thing had been different I could have liked you more.’