Bodie had been watching the storm clouds heading his way and didn’t like what he saw. It was threatening to be one hell of a blow. He reached behind to loosen the ties holding his oilskin slicker behind the saddle. He laid it across the horse’s neck in front of him in case he needed it. The wind came first, drifting in from the higher peaks to disturb the tops of the close packed trees. Within a half hour the wind had risen. It picked up loose leaves from the forest floor and scattered them around. Bodie felt his horse jerk as the disturbed leaves floated in front of him. He tightened his reins and told the horse to quit fooling around.
The first drops of rain came down through the swaying branches, cold against Bodie’s face. Staring up through the trees Bodie saw the sheeting mist of rain come down off the peaks, dark against the sky. He saw the shifting pattern as it rolled in and moments later the deluge came. It all arrived at the same time. The heavy rain and the hard wind. And far back in the mountain peaks the deep rumble of thunder.
As Bodie pulled on the slicker, dragging the folds down to cover himself, he decided it was turning into one hell of a miserable day. He could feel the force of the downpour through the slicker across his back. He tugged his hat low against the slap of the rain against his face. Beneath him the gray shivered in reaction to the inclement weather; it didn’t think much of the sudden downpour and the wind.
‘No use making a fuss, horse,’ Bodie said. ‘This is what we got. I don’t favor it too much myself.’
He angled across the slope as the tracks ahead veered in that direction. Bodie realized the tracks would be lost soon enough. The forest floor was already soaked and given time would become pretty well waterlogged. If the storm stayed for a time the natural streams would become filled as water running off the slopes reached them. Bodie dismounted and led the gray. On foot he was able to pick up the faint trail easier. His boots sank into the ground where it was already sodden.
Off on the high peaks thunder rolled in. A rising round that reverberated from the gray skies. Bodie’s horse pulled against the reins and he had to jerk it back in the line. The deep sound continued for a time. Bodie hoped, peevishly, Monk was getting just as wet. He wouldn’t have liked to believe the man had found shelter.
Just when he thought he had lost Monk’s trail Bodie picked up faint hoof prints. He squatted, checking the marks in the soft earth. He followed the prints as they kept on a direct line for the higher slopes.
‘We ain’t lost him yet, hoss,’ he said.
Bodie turned to remount. As he did he caught movement out the corner of his eye.
A lone rider on a lower slope, moving in a parallel line to Bodie’s. There must have been at least close on a quarter mile distance between them. The other rider seemed to be moving slowly and the only reason Bodie could put on that was the man appeared to be searching his way ahead. Almost as if he was looking for someone himself—or looking for something. Bodie watched the rider until he was swallowed by a dense thicket of brush.
Studying the rider, even at a distance, told Bodie the man was not Thad Monk. Monk’s description had him on the short, heavy built side. Sitting his saddle the distant rider was taller and leaner than Monk.
Bodie swung his horse around to follow the tracks he had found. The way took him into more trees, the falling shadows making a crisscross pattern on the ground. He kept the gray to a slow walk, scanning the way ahead.
He was curious about the newcomer. His identity. His reason for being where he was. Bodie’s instinct told him the man was not associated with Monk, or his kin. He could be wrong about that, but Bodie had a feeling he was right. Even so the man needed to be watched. He did have as much right to be up here in the mountainous country as did Bodie. The land was open and free to travel and this rider could have a perfectly legitimate reason for being here.
Until he found out, one way or the other, Bodie decided to keep an open—albeit—cautious mind. It paid a man to take care in this wild country. In most cases one mistake was all it took. A dead man was not allowed a second chance and Bodie had not survived for so long by not taking anything for granted. A bullet in the back tended to end all questions.