Bodie 1 Read online

  Bodie had long ago ceased to make any distinction. He had a simple, hard-and-fast rule, and he never wavered from it. If somebody, anybody, pointed a gun his way, with the intention of using it, then that person had better be damn fast and sure, because Bodie wasn’t about to give away any free tries. It was a good rule. It was a wise rule. In his line of business it was the only rule. It was the reason Bodie was still alive, and a lot of other men were dead and buried and forgotten.

  Bodie made his way towards the cantina. Cautious faces were starting to show themselves. All he wanted from them was the whereabouts of the horses belonging to the three dead outlaws. Bodie was going to need the horses if he wanted to haul the corpses back to Creel. It was what he had to do if he wanted to collect the bounty offered by the bank, and he hadn’t come all this way just for the exercise.

  Chapter Two

  It took Bodie five days to make the return journey to Creel. He arrived mid-morning on a hot day and the stench from the three corpses, each one wrapped in a blanket and draped over the back of a horse, hovered over him like some virulent plague. He led his grisly burdens up the main street, ignoring the staring citizens, his ears closed to the protests at his bringing such terrible things into town. Bodie rode up to the stone built jail, easing himself from the saddle and tethering his horse. Creel’s lawman came out of his office to see what all the fuss was about. He took one look at Bodie and decided not to get too involved himself. The marshal knew Bodie’s reputation. He also knew about Bodie’s quick temper. The man hunter had a reputation for violence that was hard to beat. Only a fool would deliberately rouse Bodie’s temper.

  ‘Ventry and Brack?’ the marshal asked.

  Bodie simply nodded. ‘Third one’s the kid. Lutz. He didn’t want to listen to what I had to tell him. If he had he’d be sitting that saddle instead of being draped over it.’

  The marshal rubbed his chin. ‘Could be bad news there,’ he said. ‘Gil Lutz had four brothers. They run a spread north of town. Bodie, they’re a hard bunch. It ain’t going to sit right with them when they hear you brought Gil back dead. ‘

  Bodie had already stepped up on the boardwalk. He made his way inside the jail. The marshal instructed his deputy to take the bodies over to the undertakers, then followed Bodie inside. Closing the door the marshal went across to the small stove in the corner and poured out two mugs of coffee. He handed one to Bodie before sitting down behind his desk.

  ‘Bodie, I’m not telling you to get out of Creel,’ the marshal began. ‘You haven’t broken any laws. All I’m saying is, why stick around if there’s a chance of trouble with the Lutz boys?’

  Bodie tasted the coffee. ‘Marshal, you make good coffee but you give lousy advice. One thing I’ve never done is back off from trouble. I can’t afford to. Once folk start to figure I’m going soft I’ll be out of work. If the Lutz boys start trouble they’ll get it back. Right now all I want to do is collect my money and get myself a room at the hotel. I want a bath and a shave and some clean clothes. After that I figure to eat. Then I’ll decide what to do next.’

  The marshal sighed. He should have known better than to try and talk Bodie into leaving town. He had a feeling that Creel was going to have problems if Bodie stayed long. The man attracted violence like it was going out of fashion. Yet he very seldom went out of his way to initiate that violence. There were always others ready to do that. It was said that Bodie had a lot of enemies. It was a fact that he had buried a great number of them. He was known to be a hard, no-nonsense man. A man not to be taken lightly.

  ‘I’ll get the paperwork sorted out and have the money for you in about an hour.’ The marshal emptied his mug. ‘You going over to the hotel?’

  Bodie nodded. ‘Yeah. I might as well wait in comfort for my money.’

  The crowd of onlookers had drifted away by the time Bodie emerged from the jail. His horse stood alone at the hitching rail. Bodie took the reins and led the animal along the street, to a livery stable. The establishment was run by a wizened old man with gray hair and fierce blue eyes. He nodded as Bodie brought his animal inside.

  ‘Hear you got them bastards who took the bank,’ the old man said. His name was Greensburgh. He’d been in the territory for longer than anyone could recall. It was said that when he had first arrived there was nothing but wide open spaces, Indians, and buffalo. Greensburgh had survived and he had watched the country grow. He was as hard now as he had been in his youth, and had a low opinion of the so-called civilizing of the country. ‘Blown ’em all to hell by what I hear. Shootin’s too good for them useless tramps.’

  ‘They wanted it that way: Bodie said. He led his horse to an empty stall and unsaddled. He forked in some fresh straw and filled the water and grain boxes for the animal.

  Greensburgh watched the operation silently, puffing on an old pipe stuck in one corner of his mouth. ‘Man who looks after his horse can’t be all bad,' he remarked finally.

  ‘Knowing I got your approval, old man, is going to help me sleep tonight,’ Bodie said.

  A dry chuckle rose in Greensburgh’s throat. ‘Bodie, I like you!’

  Slinging his saddlebags over one shoulder, Bodie picked up his rifle and headed for the door. ‘You look after that horse, else you might have reason to change your mind.’

  ‘Don’t you fret none, boy, I’ll take care of him.’ At the door of the stable the old man cleared his throat. ‘Hey, Bodie, keep your eyes skinned for them Lutz boys. They get to hear what happened to that youngster . . . well, I guess you already been told how they are.’

  ‘Yeah, I heard.’

  ‘The Lutz’s, they come from way back. Tennessee mountain folk. Got this thing about family ties. They got long memories and hate pretty fierce.’

  Bodie didn’t say anything. He started along the street. After a few steps he glanced back over his shoulder. Greensburgh was still watching him.

  ‘Take care of the horse, Mr. Greensburgh.’

  The old man nodded. ‘Will do, boy, and you’re purely welcome.’

  Bodie walked uptown and went inside The Creel House, the town’s best hotel. It was obvious that it was Creel’s best establishment because it had carpet in the lobby, clean paint on the walls, and the magazines left around for patrons to read were no more than two months old. Bodie crossed to the desk, put down his rifle and spun the register to sign in.

  ‘No need for that, Mr. Bodie,’ the desk clerk said. He was a slender, pale man. His dark hair was plastered to his skull like a cap and he wore a thin moustache on his upper lip. He beamed across the desk at Bodie, clasping his thin, white hands together.

  ‘Why?’ Bodie asked, his tone indicating that he required a straight answer: The clerk reached below the desk and withdrew a long buff envelope. He handed it to Bodie, who saw that his name was written on the front. Bodie opened the envelope and took out the folded notepaper. A new, crisp, $500 bill was inside the paper, and written on the expensive surface of the paper was a short message: Mister Bodie, Please find enclosed a $500 retainer. This is for half an hour of your time. It could be worth 10,000 dollars if you agree to my proposition. Your room is booked and anything you require. I will be in touch. Lyle Trask.

  ‘Is this the Lyle Trask I think it is?’ Bodie asked the clerk.

  ‘The Mr. Trask,’ the clerk affirmed.

  Bodie read the note again. His curiosity was aroused by the short but tempting message. After a moment he came to a decision. He pocketed the note and the money.

  ‘Let me have the key,’ he told the clerk. ‘I want hot water for a bath and send somebody up who can go and get me some clean clothes.’

  ‘Certainly, Mr. Bodie,’ the clerk beamed. ‘Anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.’

  ‘How about a girl? Young. Good looking. Experienced but not too much?’

  The clerk’s face took on a shocked expression. He touched the tips of his fingers to his thin lips. Then he managed a weak smile. ‘Mr. Bodie is having his little joke of course?’ The tail e
nd of the sentence was almost a plea.

  Bodie picked up the key and his rifle, turning to go upstairs. He glanced at the clerk. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Mr. Bodie is just having his little joke.’ As he climbed the stairs Bodie wondered for a moment what the clerk would have done if Mr. Bodie had not been joking. Knowing who was behind all the grand treatment being showered on him, there would probably have been a girl delivered to his room within a short time, and no questions asked.

  The room turned out to be the best in the hotel. A double room, overlooking the street, with a separate bathroom and lounge. Bodie dropped his saddlebags beside the huge bed, regretting with every passing second the fact that there wasn’t a woman on tap. He took off his gun belt and hung it from one of the bedposts. Sitting down in one of the plush armchairs he took out the note and read it again.

  Now what would Lyle Trask want from him? He knew about Trask. Then again, who hadn’t. Lyle Trask was one of the wealthiest businessmen in this part of southwest Texas. He had holdings in every kind of money-making operation. Trask owned cattle by the thousand. He bred horses. There was a stage line that ran under his banner. He even owned a railroad. His shipping and freight companies reached far and wide. Bodie was certain that the man even had banking interests. Lyle Trask, in fact, was a tycoon. A hard-dealing, fast-thinking, powerful operator. He had worked his way up from nothing, his first dealings being undertaken while he was still in his twenties. Now he was somewhere in his early forties, comparatively young for his breed, and it seemed as if nothing could stop him becoming even more powerful, and more wealthy. So what did a man of Lyle Trask’s position want with Bodie? Bodie’s business was violence and sudden death. His tools were his rifle and his handgun. The more he thought about it the more intrigued Bodie became.

  He was still turning the matter over in his mind a couple of hours later when he left his room and went downstairs . It was close to lunchtime and Bodie was hungry. The ragged, unshaven Bodie had gone. Bathed and shaved, dressed in a new dark suit, with a white shirt and dark string tie, Bodie felt human again. The only reminders of his former appearance were his hat and the gun belt he had strapped on under the coat of his suit.

  The hotel had its own dining room. Bodie was shown to a private table situated in front of the window, looking out on the street. He ordered a large steak with all the trimmings, a bottle of wine, and a pot of coffee. While he waited for his meal Bodie sat back and watched Creel go about its business.

  He could see the jail from where he was sitting, and just as his meal arrived, Bodie observed four horsemen come along the street and rein in at the jail. There was something familiar about the four roughly dressed, heavily-armed riders. Bodie watched them step up on the boardwalk and go inside the jail. He drew his gaze from the window and set to eating his meal. It was only as he was drinking his second cup of coffee that it came to him.

  Gil Lutz!

  That was who the four men reminded him of. And he realized who the four must be. Bodie glanced through the window towards the jail, but the four horses had gone. He leaned back in his seat, pouring himself more coffee. He made no attempt to cut short his meal. He was not in any kind of hurry.

  A face Bodie knew appeared at his table. Creel’s marshal. He looked worried. He thrust a thick envelope at Bodie.

  ‘Got your money,’ he said. Beads of sweat gleamed on his face.

  ‘Wasn’t any need for you to bring it,’ Bodie said. ‘I was going to come over to see you when I’d finished.’

  ‘Look, Bodie ...’ the marshal began.

  ‘I was you, I’d sit down before I fell down.’

  The marshal slid into the seat facing Bodie.

  ‘You want a drink or something?’ Bodie asked. The marshal shook his head. ‘Marshal, I know what’s worrying you. I saw the Lutz boys ride in a while back. ‘

  ‘You didn’t hear what they had to say, though! Did you?’ The marshal’s voice rose slightly in his excitement. ‘Hell, Bodie, I thought they were going to shoot me!’

  Bodie glanced over the rim of his coffee cup. ‘Why? You do something to upset them?’

  ‘This ain’t funny, Bodie!’ The marshal looked around as other diners glanced his way. Lowering his voice he said, ‘It’s like I told you, Bodie. Killing that kid was bound to bring you trouble! And it has! Jesus, man, they’re out there and they aim to blow you apart!’

  Bodie poured the last of the coffee into his cup. He spooned in sugar, slowly and deliberately.

  ‘Damn you, Bodie, is that all you care? Four men lookin’ to blow you from hell to breakfast an’ all you can do is drink coffee!’

  ‘One thing I ain’t about to do is leave town. I’ve got business here in Creel. If those Lutz boys come looking for me, they better be faster than the kid I brought in hanging face down over his saddle.’

  ‘So what do you aim to do?’ the marshal asked.

  Bodie grinned at him. It was the grin of a wolf anticipating its prey. ‘Me? Not a damn thing! Unless somebody else starts it!’

  The marshal stood up. He felt completely useless. His hands were tied and he knew it. Bodie was in the clear as far as the law was concerned. He hadn’t done a thing out of place, nor would he. If the Lutz boys pushed matters as far as a gunfight, which they most certainly would, then Bodie could kill them and no court could touch him. In a way the marshal was glad that was the way it would turn out. He didn’t want to be in the position of trying to arrest Bodie. He would sooner turn in his badge. Better to be out of work than dead.

  Bodie watched the marshal leave the dining room. He finished his coffee and left himself. Crossing to the desk he gestured to the clerk.

  ‘Did Trask say when he’d be in Creel?’ Bodie asked.

  The clerk shook his head. ‘No, sir, Mister Trask refrained from giving that information.’

  Bodie put his hat on and walked out of the hotel. It was almost one o’clock. Creel was at lunch. The street was practically deserted. Most of the stores had closed for the hour. Bodie heard music coming from a saloon just up the street and decided to take a walk. There might be a poker game in progress he could sit in on. He cut across the street, aware of his exposed position, but also keeping a keen eye open for any unusual moves being made. He reached the saloon without trouble and went inside.

  As the doors swung shut behind him Bodie came to a dead stop just inside. Sitting at one of the tables, a half empty bottle on the table top, were the four Lutz brothers.

  One of them glanced up as Bodie entered the saloon. He nudged the others and said something. The other brothers turned to look at Bodie.

  Bodie ignored them and crossed to the bar. He found a space and gestured to the bartender.

  ‘Beer,’ Bodie said.

  The bartender brought the beer in a large, thick glass which he placed in front of Bodie. There was an odd expression on the man s face and his gaze moved constantly from Bodie to the table where the Lutz brothers were sitting

  ‘Something troubling you, feller?’ Bodie asked.

  The bartender shook his head quickly, muttering a denial, and moved to the far end of the bar where he began to polish already clean glasses as though his life depended on it.

  Bodie drank his beer. Behind him he could hear subdued talk coming from the Lutz table. He ignored it. But he remained aware of their presence. And when one of the brothers uttered angry words, Bodie tensed and waited. A chair scraped against the wooden floor as it was hurriedly shoved back.

  ‘Spending your blood money, Bodie? How does it feel getting paid for murdering kids?’

  Bodie turned slowly. He leaned against the bar, still holding his glass of beer and stared coldly at the man standing before him.

  ‘The kid died because he pulled a gun on me. If he’d waited a while I would have told him the Dead or Alive notice was only for Ventry and Brack. He didn’t want to listen. That was his mistake.’

  The man shook his head savagely. ‘The hell you say! You gunned him down, Bodie! A goddam kid, that wa
s all!’

  ‘If he was a kid he shouldn’t have been playing a man’s game. Mister, I don’t give a damn about whose brother he was. He was in on that bank raid and he was riding with Ventry and Brack. Seems to me if you reckon to care for him, how come you let him team up with that pair in the first place?’

  The man gave out a roar. He half-turned, throwing a glance at his three brothers. ‘Now he says it’s our fault! For Christ sake, let’s get on with what we come for .. .’

  ‘You sure there’s enough of you to handle it?’ Bodie asked, a taunting edge to his tone.

  The man swung round to face Bodie again, his face dark with rage. His lips peeled back to expose his stained teeth. Allowing his pent-up emotions to get the better of him, he launched a powerful swing at Bodie’s face.

  Bodie eased his body to one side and the heavy fist slid by his face. The force behind the blow pulled the man in closer to Bodie. Before the man could recover his balance Bodie drove the thick beer glass into his face. It struck with a meaty thwack, shattering on impact. The broken glass tore open the man’s jaw and cheek. Soft flesh was sliced apart. Blood gushed from the deep gashes and the man let out a terrified scream of pain. He clutched at his bloody face, stumbling towards Bodie who shoved him aside, turning to face the oncoming three Lutz brothers. They rushed at him in an uncoordinated bunch, their actions fired by anger, which drove them to reckless violence. The one in the lead drove a wild punch at Bodie’s face that caught him across the left cheek, splitting the flesh. Before the man could follow with a second blow Bodie caught hold of his shirt front, yanking the man off balance. Dragging him forwards and down Bodie smashed the man head-first into the edge of the bar. The man’s cry of pain was reduced to a choked whimper as his face was crushed against the hard wood. There was a sodden crunch as his nose was reduced to a pulpy mass. Strong hands grabbed Bodie’s left arm, swinging him away from the bar. A solid blow clouted him across the side of the skull. Bodie slid back against the bar, shaking his head to clear away the muzzy pain. He saw a distorted, angry face lunging at him and was aware of another one close by. He sensed the coming blow aimed at his face and let himself drop to a crouch. Then he lunged forward smashing his hard shoulder into the closest groin. He heard a man scream in pain. Bodie shoved hard, lifting as he moved forward. He felt the man’s feet leave the floor. Bodie used his hands to accelerate the movement of the squirming body. The yelling man was thrown over Bodie’s shoulder to the saloon floor. He hit with a crippling impact, twisting over onto his back, gasping for air through paralyzed lungs. Turning, Bodie spotted the man trying to sit up. He lashed out with his right foot, the toe of his boot catching the man across the side of the face, opening a long gash that started to bleed heavily. Something cracked sharply across the side of Bodie’s skull. He stumbled and went down on one knee. Hot blood began to stream down the side of his face. He threw a quick glance in the direction the blow had come from and saw the remaining Lutz coming at him again. The man had a whisky bottle in his hand and he was swinging it at Bodie again. Bodie threw up his left arm to block the blow. The bottle struck his arm over the bone, pain flaring the length of the limb. Bodie kicked out with his left foot the heel of his boot driving at the man’s right knee: Bone cracked with an audible sound.