Bodie 2 Read online

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  Bodie was on the trail again.

  In San Filipe a priest had been brutalized, a young girl raped and a statue stolen. Bodie aimed to kill the men responsible.

  He had once been a lawman, but now he tracked outlaws for bounty, and his own satisfaction. He would blast a murderer’s head off without flinching — it was all in a day’s work.

  Only this time it was different. Bodie had a personal stake in wanting these men dead.

  For a killer, a private quarrel can be fatal …

  BLOODY BOUNTY

  Copyright © Neil Hunter 1979

  Cover image © 2012 by Westworld Designs

  This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

  Published by Piccadilly Publishing at Smashwords: August 2012

  Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading the book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Published by Arrangement with the Author.

  Marlene –

  A way of saying thank you

  Chapter One

  When they couldn’t find what they were looking for inside the white-painted, adobe mission, they dragged the middle aged priest outside. They tore the brown robe from his body and tied him by his wrists to the high wheel of a Mexican cart standing in the dusty, sun-baked mission courtyard. Then they stood back, silent for a moment, grinning at each other, savoring the indignity forced upon the naked priest.

  ‘Get wise, feller,’ Linc Fargo said. ‘Ain’t worth gettin’ hurt for. You know what we want. Just tell us where it is and it’ll all be over.’

  Father Ignacio pressed his face against the rim of the wooden wheel. He tried not to listen to the words of the hard-faced American. It would have been so easy to give them the information they required. Just a few words and he would save himself a great deal of suffering. But it was not so simple. Nothing ever was. Life, even when it appeared to be slipping by comfortably, still managed to deliver sudden, stunning knocks. A prayer rose in his mind and he began to recite it silently, blotting out the demands coming from Linc Fargo. He would not tell them what they wanted to know, no matter what they did to him. It was more than his life was worth to betray the trust of his Holy Order. He might only be a lowly priest, carrying out his appointed tasks in this lonely corner of New Mexico, but he answered to the same high authority as any man of God. These savage men. These renegades. Killers. True, they frightened him — but his faith held true. It was far stronger than their threats of physical violence. He would not tell. He would not break. No matter what they did to him ...

  Linc Fargo glanced over his shoulder at his waiting men. He singled out a stocky, thick-chested figure and made a quick gesture. The man moved to join him. Despite his heavy build he moved lightly, hardly seeming to use any effort. He wore faded Levis and a sleeveless cotton shirt. His dark hair fell to his shoulders in greasy strands. A livid scar marked the left side of his face and his eye was covered by a milky white film.

  ‘You want him, Snake?’ Fargo asked.

  Snake grinned, showing his uneven yellow teeth. He stroked his unshaven face with a grubby hand. ‘Yeah, I could do with a little exercise!’

  Linc Fargo pulled a half-smoked cigar from his pocket and lit it. ‘Well, don’t take too long,’ he said. ‘Sooner we can move on the better.’

  The man called Snake nodded. He eased away from Fargo, uncoiling the long whip that hung from his gun belt.

  With practiced ease he laid the oiled lash on the ground. Snake eyed the naked back of Father Ignacio and positioned himself correctly. Then he made a swift flick with his powerful arm. The black lash of the whip swept back then forward. There was a vicious crack as the tip of the lash made contact with soft flesh. An audible gasp burst from the priest at the sudden, shocking pain. A raw welt appeared against the white flesh. Blood seeped from the edges, trickling down the trembling body. Snake chuckled softly. He laid the whip across the priest’s back a half-dozen more times before Fargo stopped him.

  ‘Hey, priest, your memory getting any dearer now?’ he asked. He walked round to where he could see Father Ignacio’s face. The priest stared up at him through pain dulled eyes. The brown face had turned grey. Oily sweat shone on the lined flesh. ‘Hurts, don’t it?’ Fargo prodded.

  ‘The pain will pass,’ Father Ignacio murmured. ‘With time you will be forgiven.’

  Linc Fargo blew smoke into the priest’s face. ‘Quit the bible crap, priest,’ he snarled. ‘I give the word an’ Snake there is going to shred you dear down to the bone. He can do it. Now just tell me where that damned statue is!’

  ‘I can tell you nothing,’ Father Ignacio whispered.

  Fargo jerked away from him angrily. He glared at Snake. ‘Well? What the hell are you waiting for?’

  As Fargo walked across the courtyard, Jubal Keller joined him. Keller, tall and sandy-haired, made him an impatient oath.

  ‘He won’t talk, Linc. Trouble with his kind is they like bein’ made to suffer. It’s part of bein’ a priest. Makes certain they get their seat up in Heaven if they bleed a bit down here.’

  Fargo narrowed his eyes against the bright glare of the sun. ‘How the hell do you get off knowin’ so much about religion?’

  Keller scratched his chest through his dirty shirt. Well, I did once know a whore who did six months as a nun ‘fore she found out it wasn’t too much fun!’

  They turned and stood watching while Snake methodically stripped the flesh from Father Ignacio’s back. The priest’s body ran red with blood. It streamed down his trembling legs, dripping to the hard earth, darkening the space between his feet. Slippery flesh hung in tatters. The whip cracked without pause, each contact raising a fresh welt and a spray of blood. Snake altered his aim and the lash began to lacerate the priest’s naked buttocks.

  ‘Linc, you could have that bastard standing there in his bare bones an’ he still wouldn’t talk,’ Keller insisted.

  Fargo sighed. ‘You might be right,’ he said. ‘So what’s your bright idea?’

  ‘I reckon it’ll he quicker, get us the answers we need, and be a lot more fun,’ Keller said. He grinned at Fargo’s frown. Turning he waved to one of the waiting men.

  ‘Hey, then, go get it!’

  The man nodded and vanished inside the mission. A minute later he reappeared, dragging with him a wide-eyed Mexican girl. The girl, though silent, put up a constant struggle. The man named Clem threw her to her knees in front of Fargo and Keller. The rest of the men began to gather round, forming a circle with the girl in the center. After a while even Snake became interested and joined them.

  ‘Ain’t bad looking for a greaser,’ one of the men said.

  ‘Hell, I been locked up so long wouldn’t matter if she had a face like a horse’s ass!’

  ‘Who cares about her goddam face? It’s the other end I want to see!’

  Fargo glanced at Keller. ‘You figure she might know?’

  ‘Damn right she does,’ Keller said. ‘That right, honey?’

  The girl stared at him, her brown eyes round and stark with terror. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen, dark haired, with a ripe, firmly developed young body under the thin blouse and skirt.

  ‘You understand what I’m saying, honey, so don’t just sit there like you was
dumb!’ Keller scowled. ‘Now get on your feet!’

  The girl rose and faced him, sweat shining on her frightened young face.

  ‘See!’ Keller said, then without warning he reached out and took hold of the girl’s blouse, jerking savagely. The thin blouse ripped away from her body, baring her to the waist, exposing her full, soft swaying breasts. The girl threw her arms up to cover herself, but Keller slapped her hard across the face. ‘Put them arms down, honey, else

  I’m liable to slap every tooth out of your head!’

  The girl lowered her arms. She stood motionless, staring up at the blue expanse of sky. She showed no reaction when Keller reached out and squeezed one of her naked breasts, his fingers plucking at the prominent brown nipple.

  ‘Hey, let’s have a look at the rest,’ one of the men said.

  It was Snake who tugged at the waistband of the girl’s skirt, loosening the cord. The skirt slithered down the girl’s legs, leaving her naked, exposed.

  ‘Mama, now I know why I ran away from home,’ Snake murmured. He patted the girl’s firm brown buttocks, let ting his fingers stray between her trembling thighs.

  ‘Honey, you got seven hombres with a powerful need standing right here,’ Keller said. ‘Now you know what we come here for. You tell us where it is an’ things might go a lot easier. Act stupid like the old, priest an’ you’re going to get more than you ever dreamed of!’

  ‘I ... I ... will not tell … ’ The girl’s voice was faint but steady.

  ‘Aw, shit, fellers,’ Snake grumbled, ‘she’s got religion too! Ain’t but one way to deal with that!’

  Keller, loosening his pants, shoved Snake’ aside ‘You had your fun with the old man. This was my idea so I get first stab at it!’ He grinned at his unconscious humor.

  ‘First stab!’ Snake chuckled. ‘Keller, you make lousy jokes. I hope you do better on the job.’

  Keller pulled the girl to the ground, pinning her arms and legs down. He knelt between her spread thighs. ‘Snake, you just watch and see how it’s done,’ he said, and thrust himself onto the moaning girl There was a sudden, shrill scream as Keller penetrated the girl’s tender flesh. Her body arched upwards in agony as Keller drove at her with brutal force.

  Snake, his scarred face gleaming with sweat, gave a nervous giggle. ‘Ride her, boy! Hell, I hope she don’t decide to talk too damn soon, Linc!’

  Linc Fargo, watching the girl’s squirming brown body, had the same thought. It had been a long time since he’d been near a woman, never mind taken one, and he was already getting an unbearable ache in his groin. Those grim months locked up in that filthy cell had almost driven him crazy. He didn’t intend going back. When he and his bunch had broken out, killing four guards in the process, Linc Fargo had made himself that promise. He was out and this time it was for good. And he was going to make a lot of people sorry for what they’d done to him. He didn’t care who they were. He just warned to hit back. On a more practical level he also needed money. That was why he and his men were here at the mission.

  Linc Fargo had heard about the statue of The Mission of San Felipe from a fellow prisoner. The old Mexican, serving a long sentence for the savage rape and murder of a seventeen-year-old girl, had talked unceasingly about the statue. He had seen it once, during a religious festival. The statue dated back to the eighteenth century, the time of the mission’s construction by Spanish Jesuit priests, far sighted men who were at the fore of Spanish expansion in the southwest. The conquering Spanish were long gone now, but their missions remained and many of them were still strong religious powers in the vast, thinly populated southwest country. The statue itself had been sent from Spain as a gift, from the town of San Felipe in Toledo, taken by the priests from the great church dedicated to the town’s patron saint, shipped across the countless miles of ocean to the newly-conquered Spanish empire. It came to rest in the new mission, named after the ancient town many thousands of miles away. Two feet high, cast in solid, pure gold, and encrusted with dozens of priceless stones, the statue, in the form of a robed figure offering up a prayer, had become the mission’s most valuable possession. To the people who came to the mission to seek guidance or comfort, it was their anchor stone, their personal contact with God, and they would have died to protect it.

  As far as Linc Fargo was concerned the whole damn congregation could die if they got in his way. The statue of San Felipe was just so much gold to him. He saw it as a way to big money. There were plenty of men who would pay a fortune to get their hands on something like the San Felipe statue. Collectors of fine art who would hand over cold cash so that they could take the statue and hide it away in order to sit and stare at it. Linc Fargo figured them to be nothing short of crazy, but as long as they paid the money he didn’t give a damn if they took the thing to bed with them. Everybody had their own way of having fun.

  He glanced down at the naked Mexican girl, sprawled in the dust. Keller had finished with her. He was already on his feet, buckling his belt, leaving the moaning girl exposed, her gleaming body a tender invitation.

  ‘She say anything?’ Fargo asked.

  Keller, his face running with sweat, confirmed. ‘Only thanks.’

  Fargo scowled. He knelt beside the girl and snatched a handful of her thick black hair. ‘Listen you bitch,’ he spat, ‘we ain’t got all day to play games! You tell me where that statue is or these boys are going to screw you right into the ground!’

  The girl’s face rolled towards him. Then she peeled back her lips and spat in Fargo’s face. He yelled in anger. Letting go of her hair he hauled himself up and smacked her across the face. The girl grunted in pain, her head bouncing from the impact of Fargo’s hard hand. Fargo hit her a couple more times. Blood began to trickle from the corner of her month.

  ‘Hey, Linc, leave her in one piece ’til I had my turn,’ Snake pleaded. He was on his knees in front of the girl, excitedly jerking open his pants. He fell across the girl’s heaving body, grunting with unconcealed lust. His powerful hands clutched at the soft flesh as he jerked frantically between her tensed thighs.

  Linc Fargo stood up, and walked away from the bunch of men surrounding the terrified girl. He wandered over to where the limp, bloody form of Father Ignacio hung against the wagon wheel. After a minute Jubal Keller joined him. He glanced at Fargo, puzzled.

  ‘Something wrong, Linc?’ he asked, aware of Fargo’s restlessness.

  Fargo stroked his face. ‘I don’t like this place,’ he said.

  A low chuckle rose in Keller’s throat. ‘You superstitious or something?’

  There was a moment when wild anger showed in Fargo’s cunning eyes. Then it faded. ‘I just don’t want to hang around here too long,’ he snapped. ‘The law ain’t going to be sittin’ on its ass. Every badge will be out lookin’ for us and they won’t be coming to talk. Know what I mean, Jubal?’

  Keller nodded. He had no illusions as to their status in the eyes of the law. The whole bunch of them were open targets. He stretched lazily, stared up at the empty sky, then said, ‘The girl’ll talk, Linc! When the boys are through with her she’ll tell ’em everything they want to know!’

  The girl held out for over an hour. By that time she had been subjected to numerous indignities. Her body was marked and bloody, her face a mass of ugly bruises. She had been violated over and over again by the entire bunch of men, Linc Fargo included, until her numbed flesh was unable to take any more. And then she talked, telling them all they needed to know about the statue of San Felipe.

  The seven men took to their horses and rode off, leaving behind a silent mission, a half-dead priest and a young girl who, after a long time, crawled to her feet, went inside the mission and searched for a sharp knife. Then she walked back outside, calmly knelt in the dust and slashed both her wrists, bleeding to death in the bright sunlight shining down on the peaceful, slumbering Mission of San Felipe.

  Chapter Two

  ‘Can I see him now?’ the tall, dark haired man asked. He was still in t
he position he’d been in when the doctor had first spotted him out on the mission courtyard. Leaning against the low wall of the well in the centre of the compound, his battered hat pulled down to shade his face from the hot sun, keen eyes watching, missing nothing.

  ‘I guess so.’ the doctor said. ‘He’s been asking for you all the time. Sooner you talk to him, sooner he’s going to let himself rest.’

  ‘How is he?’

  The doctor took off his steel-rimmed spectacles and wiped his sweating face with a damp handkerchief. ‘As well as any forty-five-year-old man who has just been savagely beaten with a whip.’ The doctor shook his head.

  ‘I’ve seen some ugly things in my time — but what those animals did to Father Ignacio is unforgiveable!’

  The tall man paused in the mission doorway. ‘Their day’s coming, Doc,’ he said, and went inside.

  It was cooler inside. It always was, Bodie reflected as he strode along the stone-flagged passage. And always quiet. Not a deathly, cold silence, though — more peaceful, restful, oddly soothing, he admitted. He reached the end of the passage and tapped on the door.

  ‘Come in, Bodie!’ Father Ignacio’s voice drifted from beyond the closed door.

  The room was small and bare. It was a functional, dean, sunlit room, containing a narrow bed, a chair and a small table. On a shelf above the bed were a number of books. Bodie dosed the door behind him, removing his hat as he turned to look at the man on the bed.

  ‘I am well enough, Bodie,’ Father Ignacio said. He lay back against a mound of soft pillows, his face drawn and pale. Huge dark rings circled his eyes. To Bodie he more like a man of ninety.

  ‘I see you’ve still got that damned habit of answering my questions before I ask them,’ Bodie said.

  Father Ignacio smiled. He watched Bodie pull the chair to the side of the bed and sit down.

  ‘Thank you for coming so quickly,’ the priest said. ‘This is a terrible thing that has happened.’