Bodie heard the crackle of undergrowth as a rider pushed his horse forward. There was a blurred image filling his vision. It loomed larger as the rider urged the animal forward, a wild yell as he spotted his quarry. Bodie half-turned as the rider leaned forward in his saddle, rifle coming into play. A shot would bring the rest of the Monks fast. Bodie let his rifle fall to the ground. He took a couple of lunging steps, digging in his heels as he launched himself forward. His outstretched arms gripped the rider around his lower body, pushing him back out of the saddle. Bodie’s forward motion took him over the horse’s bulk and he followed the rider off the horse. They fell, hitting the ground hard, and then, without warning their scrambling bodies were falling into empty space. The thick undergrowth they crashed through was edging a steep drop off. Bodie and the Monk rider went over, still struggling, as the ground fell away in a long, deep slope. They were unable to control their descent, rolling and crashing down the muddy incline until they hit bottom, sinking into a wide spill of water. The water was a couple of feet deep, with thick, soft mud underneath.
They gained their feet together, spitting the brackish water from their mouths. Bodie saw the rider had lost his rifle during the fall. He had no handgun, but carried a sheathed knife. He went for it and lunged at Bodie, the gleam of the broad-bladed knife in his right hand. Bodie reared back as the knife cut the air, felt it tear at his shirt. Before the other man could recover Bodie reached out and grabbed his wrist, forcing the knife aside and swinging his bunched right fist in a powerful blow that connected with the Monk man’s jaw. The blow was heavy, delivered with all of Bodie’s strength. The man’s head snapped to one side, blood streaking his flesh from a torn lip. Using the moment Bodie twisted the man’s arm until he let go of the knife with a pained yell. It vanished under the muddy water.
‘Sonofabitch.’
The man spat out the word, swinging his fists as he fought back. Bodie caught a glancing blow to his cheek. Felt warm blood seeping from the split flesh. He saw a second punch coming and ducked under the swing, driving forward to slam his own fist into the other’s gut. There was a lot of energy in the punch. Enough to halt the man as his breath was driven from his lungs. Given the moment Bodie used it well, sledging in left and right blows to his opponent’s jaw. Blood sprayed in a red mist as the punches landed, drawing a stunned grunt from the man. He toppled over and went face down in the water.
Straddling him Bodie planted both hands on the exposed skull and pushed the head down into the slick of water and mud, his weight preventing the man from raising himself clear. Bubbles of air exploded from around the submerged head. Bodie kept the pressure on until the man’s struggles weakened, then hauled him up.
Gasping and spitting the Monk man fell into a spasm of harsh coughing. He offered little resistance when Bodie snaked one arm around his neck and held tight.
‘Where’s Thaddeus Monk?’
‘Go to hell.’
‘Wrong answer.’
Bodie shoved the man’s head back into the muddy water and repeated the procedure. The man flailed, legs kicking. When Bodie pulled him clear again his face was streaked with mud.
‘Where’s Monk?’
‘You like to drowned me.’
‘Could still happen. Now where is he?’
‘Jesus, you’re a persistent cuss.’
‘You want me to stop asking, tell me where he is.’
‘At the house.’ The man raised his arm and pointed up the mountain. ‘Back at the house.’
Bodie had seen the man had no handgun. His rifle had been lost when Bodie hauled him out of his saddle and his knife was gone. He dragged the man out of the water and pushed him onto dry land. Bodie took out his own Colt and half-cocked the hammer so he could spin the cylinder, clearing water from the mechanism.
‘Shells might be damp from all that water,’ he said. ‘She might not fire so take your chance if you feel lucky.’
The man glared up at the tall figure of the manhunter, checked the weapon, then the harsh expression on Bodie’s face.
‘What the hell you expecting me to do? Jump you?’ he said. ‘I may only be a simple mountain boy but I ain’t that dumb.’
‘Dumb enough to cover for Thad Monk.’
‘He’s kin. Family. That always come first.’
‘He robbed a bank. Killed people.’
The man shrugged. ‘Not the first time he done that.’
‘What about shooting a woman? In the back. Some kin you got there.’
‘You could be lyin’,’ the man said. He took a long moment. ‘You after him for a bounty?’
‘You figure I’d trail all this way just to deliver him a nosegay?’
‘Thad’s a mean son, but shootin’ a woman…’
‘He done it. Now I don’t give a damn if you believe me or not. Get in my way and you’ll be treated as hostile.’
‘Damnit, mister, I am hostile. Whatever Thad’s done he’s still a Monk and that counts for somethin’.’
Bodie sighed. ‘I knew you were going to say that.’
He half turned, leaving the man puzzled and off guard. Then he spun back and slammed the heavy Colt across the man’s skull—twice. The man grunted and slumped over on his side, unconscious.
Bodie clawed his way back up the slope to where the man’s horse stood, grazing on the damp grass. He picked up his rifle and saddlebags, grabbed at the horse’s dangling reins and hauled himself into the saddle.
He hadn’t forgotten there were still other members of the Monk clan around. Right there and then Bodie figured his best move was to back away, consider his options and plan his next move. His initial contact with Thad Monk’s brethren had showed they were short on negotiating skills, but quick with dealing in lead. He was going to have to play them at their own game, but on his own terms.