Iron Eyes Must Die

by Rory Black

  Hanney made as though to leave, then paused and tapped the bounty hunter’s arm. Iron Eyes glanced at the livery man.

  ‘Something eatin’ at ya, old-timer?’

  ‘Yep. I’m thinkin’ about them six riders we spotted out there on the desert a few minutes back, Iron Eyes. They’ll be here in less than a hour. A lot faster if they spur them horses.’

  Iron Eyes exhaled heavily and rested his hip on the edge of the desk. He looked down at the floor thoughtfully.

  ‘I’m troubled by them riders too,’ he admitted. ‘I saw their rifles and bullet belts in the lightning flashes. They ain’t nothin’ but trouble. No peaceful hombres carry that amount of weaponry.’

  ‘More outlaws?’

  Iron Eyes nodded.

  ‘Reckon so.’

  ‘Ya look worried,’ Hanney said.

  ‘I am a mite troubled, old-timer.’ Iron Eyes stood and led the livery man to the gaping hole in the wall where the door had once been. ‘I’m running low on bullets for my Navy Colts. Ya know anywhere in this town where they might have a couple of boxes of .36s?’

  ‘The hardware store could have some,’ Hanney said.

  ‘Check after ya get the telegraph operator.’ Iron Eyes watched the livery man as he made his way down the boardwalk into the shadows. He then strode to the edge of the porch and looked out at the desert.

  Iron Eyes could still see the six riders as the sky erupted in bright electrical flashes. They were still approaching Rio Concho.

  The bounty hunter pushed his hands into his deep trail coat-pockets and felt the remaining score of bullets. He knew that if these riders started a new battle, he needed more .36s. A lot more.

  ‘Who are you?’ he muttered.

  ~*~

  Snake Adams raised a hand and slowed his skittish mount. The five riders behind him eased back on their reins. The six horses stopped in a line less than a mile from Rio Concho. Even through the driving rain they could see the bright lights of the small border town ahead of them. Yet Adams sensed that there was something wrong. The storm was becoming more and more violent and making the horses increasingly nervous. The outlaw leader steadied his mount, pulled the brim of his hat down against the rain and focused hard.

  ‘What’s wrong, Snake?’ Kyle Parker asked. ‘How come you stopped? We’re almost there.’

  Adams was silent. He just kept looking at the town.

  Brewster eased his horse closer to the brooding horseman.

  ‘What ya seen, Snake? Trouble?’

  Ferdy Mayne leaned on his saddle horn and watched the rain flowing off the brim of his hat over his horse’s neck.

  ‘That town looks dead apart from them streetlights.’

  Adams looked at Mayne.

  ‘That’s right, Ferdy. It does look dead, don’t it? Where are all the people?’

  ‘Is that why we stopped?’ Coop Starr asked.

  The outlaw leader sighed heavily. His eyes darted from one shaft of lightning to another.

  ‘That town is real quiet,’ he said again. ‘Too quiet.’

  ‘Maybe they all hit the hay early in these parts, Snake,’ Lynch suggested.

  ‘Half the folks living there are Mexican, Ben,’ Adams reminded him. ‘Them critters only come to life during the night. They sleep most of the day.’

  ‘Could be the storm,’ Brewster suggested.

  Adams nodded.

  ‘Ya could be right, One Ear.’

  Brewster smiled. It was the first time in years that Snake Adams had agreed with anything he said.

  ‘How come we’re headed there, Snake?’ Lynch asked. ‘Of all the towns in the West, how come we’re headed to Rio Concho?’

  Snake Adams held on to his reins firmly with both his gloved hands.

  ‘OK. OK. I’ll tell ya. The envelope in my shirt is real valuable, like I said before. A man by the name of Jackson Wylie from Boston is waiting there for us. He was the man who told me of the plan them Eastern dudes had cooked up. The paper in my shirt is some kinda deed. It’s the deed to mineral rights for the whole territory.’

  ‘Mineral rights?’ Starr repeated. ‘Did ya say mineral rights, Snake? What are they?’

  ‘Hell, I don’t know. Oil or coal or something,’ Adams guessed. ‘All I know for sure is that whoever has this deed owns it. It was being sent from one rich dude to another. They have some kinda company that wants to mine the minerals in these parts.’

  ‘What’s this Jackson Wylie character gotta do with this?’ Lynch asked.

  ‘He has a company that wants to get the better of the other dudes,’ Adams replied. ‘Wylie is willing to pay us a lot of money for this document, no questions asked. All we have to do is exchange it for a couple of big bags of fresh minted golden double eagles.’

  ‘You said something before about the treasury, Snake,’ Parker added.

  Adams nodded.

  ‘That’s right, Kyle. That was one of the varmints we killed back at Waco. The government got a sniff of these companies making a lotta money out of this deal. They were trying to get a chunk of tax from them.’

  ‘Jackson Wylie?’ Brewster said the name.

  ‘That’s right, One Ear.’ Adams nodded.

  ‘Sounds like a Southern gentleman,’ Brewster said.

  Adams shook his head.

  ‘He ain’t from the South and he ain’t a gentleman. He’s an eastern back-stabber. Rich though. Mighty rich.’

  ‘If all we gotta do is exchange that document for gold, why ain’t we riding, Snake?’ Mayne asked.

  ‘Where ya meant to meet up with him?’ Starr asked.

  ‘The Avalon Hotel!’ Adams nodded. ‘I hear it’s the finest hotel in the territory.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Lynch grinned. ‘I could use a soft bed for a change.’

  ‘Ya right, Ben. Let’s ride!’ Snake Adams yelled and slapped his reins on the neck of his mount. The horse broke into a gallop in the direction of the town.

  The six horsemen spurred and thundered through the raging storm toward Rio Concho.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Happy Suds saloon was as quiet as a church in hell. Only a handful of men too drunk to have heard the earlier bloody showdown remained propped against the bar as Iron Eyes pushed the swing-doors apart and entered. The bartender looked up and felt his heart quicken its pace at the sight of the gruesome apparition. Sheets of blinding lightning illuminated the bounty hunter as Iron Eyes shook his mane of wet hair off his scarred face.

  Iron Eyes walked silently across the sawdust-covered floor until he reached the long counter. He rested his left boot on the brass rail and stared hard at the pale-faced man.

  The bartender approached nervously.

  ‘Ya want a drink?’

  Iron Eyes gritted his teeth.

  ‘Why else would I be here?’

  ‘Beer?’

  ‘Whiskey!’ Iron Eyes corrected. ‘A bottle with a label on it and an unbroken seal.’

  The bartender reached under the counter and produced a bottle of a quality superior to the normal rotgut he served his regular customers. He placed it before the bounty hunter.

  ‘That to ya liking? It’s the best I got.’

  Iron Eyes placed a few coins next to the bottle.

  ‘That’ll do fine.’

  The bartender scooped up the coins and moved to the opposite end of the bar. Iron Eyes studied the interior of the saloon carefully as he plucked a thimble-glass off a stack near the wall. He scratched a paper seal off the bottle’s neck, then pulled its cork with his small sharp teeth. He spat it out and filled the small glass.

  The drunken eyes inside the saloon watched the tall scarred man as he downed the hard liquor in one swallow. He refilled the glass and swallowed its fiery contents again.

  ‘Are you the critter that killed them outlaws earlier?’ the bartender asked warily as he polished one glass after another.

  ‘Yep!’ Iron Eyes answered.

  ‘You must be mighty brave, mister.’

&
nbsp; Iron Eyes poured another glass of whiskey and lifted it to his cracked lips.

  ‘Nope, not brave, amigo. I’m just a hunter that kills vermin. Human vermin.’

  The bartender looked over Iron Eyes’ shoulder as the swing-doors parted again. He watched the elegant figure enter and walk towards the bar counter and the bounty hunter.

  ‘You looking for someone, stranger?’ a crisp, unfamiliar voice asked from behind the bounty hunter.

  Iron Eyes looked up at the mirror hanging behind the bar and saw the reflection of a well-dressed man who was moving towards him.

  ‘You talking to me, dude?’ Iron Eyes asked after he had downed a drink.

  The man reached the bar. He stood beside the disheveled figure and smiled. It was a smile that could have soured milk.

  ‘I repeat, are you looking for me?’

  Iron Eyes tilted his head. He stared hard at the man beside him. He was neatly dressed and well spoken. He simply did not seem to belong.

  ‘Why would I be looking for you? I ain’t even sure I know what you are.’

  The man’s eyes traced their way up and down the battle-worn figure beside him. He found it impossible to hide his disgust and displeasure at what he saw.

  ‘Do you have something for me?’ the man hinted.

  Iron Eyes placed the bottle down.

  ‘I’m starting to get a tad annoyed with you, amigo. Why don’t ya go bother somebody else? Somebody that ain’t likely to skin ya!’

  The man leaned closer and winked.

  ‘Let’s not beat about the bush. You have something that I’m more than willing to pay for. Understand?’

  Iron Eyes looked at the bartender.

  The nervous saloon worker shrugged and started to polish even more glasses. Iron Eyes then turned back to face the well-dressed man. He sniffed the unfamiliar fragrance that wafted off him.

  ‘You wearin’ perfume, mister?’

  ‘Cologne, why?’ The man smiled.

  ‘I thought so!’ Iron Eyes grunted. He grabbed the man by his throat and lifted him off his feet. The man clawed desperately at the hands around his throat. Iron Eyes stared at the face as it turned blue. He then dropped him. The man’s legs buckled. He coughed and held his throat. Iron Eyes pulled back his right arm, clenched his fist and punched the man hard in the centre of his face. The sound of the breaking nose filled the saloon. With blood pouring from his shattered features, the man staggered backward and fell on top of a card-table.

  He was unconscious.

  Iron Eyes snatched his whiskey bottle off the bar and took a long swallow from its neck. He stared at the bartender.

  ‘Ya know who this feller is, barkeep?’

  ‘His name’s Jackson Wylie. He was staying at the hotel until it burned down. He’s bin renting a room upstairs since then.’

  ‘Actor?’ Iron Eyes asked.

  ‘Talks and smells like one.’ The bartender shrugged.

  ‘I hate actors almost as much as I hate Apaches!’ Iron Eyes snarled. ‘Reckon he barked up the wrong tree, huh?’

  ‘Damn right!’The bartender grinned.

  The swing-doors burst apart and a panting Duke Hanney ran in with his shotgun across his chest. His eyes were open wide. He was scared.

  ‘Them riders are almost here, Iron Eyes! C’mon!’

  Iron Eyes took another long swallow of the bottle, placed it on the wet counter-top and then strode across the sawdust to the livery man. The two men turned and walked out on to the boardwalk. The storm was now at its peak. Thunder rocked the wooden structures as lightning lit up everything in a deathly blinding light.

  ‘Did ya manage to find any bullets for my guns?’ Iron Eyes asked, looking down at the street which was now a mud-bath.

  ‘I could only find the one box of shells in the hardware store, boy.’ Hanney pulled out a box from his shirt and handed it to the bounty hunter. ‘Is that gonna be enough?’

  Iron Eyes emptied the bullets into the right-hand pocket of his trail coat and tossed away the cardboard box.

  ‘It’ll have to be enough, I guess,’ he muttered. ‘Did ya get that telegraph worker out of the cafe and into his office?’

  ‘Sure did!’ Hanney answered. ‘He’s workin’ on his equipment right now. Toby figures it’ll take best part of a day to fix everything, though.’

  ‘A day?’ Iron Eyes sighed. ‘Them bodies are gonna be mush by the time I gets to claim my bounty money.’

  ‘I figure it ain’t gonna take that long if this here storm quits. Toby’s gotta climb that pole outside his office to fix the wires, and he ain’t likely to do it until the lightning stops.’

  Iron Eyes pulled one of his guns from his pocket and cocked its hammer.

  ‘You ready to start fighting again, old-timer?’

  Hanney cocked both hammers of his hefty weapon and nodded firmly.

  ‘You bet I’m ready, boy!’

  ‘Good!’ Iron Eyes said, pointing the barrel of his gun. ‘’Cause they’re already here!’

  The old man grabbed the bounty hunter’s arm and dragged him into an alley next to the saloon. Both men stood in the driving rain and watched the six horsemen gallop past them.

  ‘Where’d ya figure they’re headed in such an all-fired hurry, boy?’ Hanney asked.

  Iron Eyes screwed up his face and stared hard into the burning rain at the riders as they turned their mounts around the corner.

  ‘What’s down that street?’

  ‘The hotel used to be,’ the livery man replied. ‘Until ya burned it down, that is.’

  Iron Eyes led the bearded man from the alley along the boardwalk until they reached the corner. He used his left hand to shield his sore eyes from the rain and gazed along the dimly lit street.

  The six riders had reined in beside the blackened timbers of what had once been the Avalon Hotel.

  ‘Reckon they’re a bit late to get themselves a room.’ Hanney chuckled.

  Iron Eyes did not laugh. He just continued to stare at the horsemen as they dismounted.

  ‘Snake Adams!’ he said in a hushed tone. ‘That’s Snake Adams, old man. I’ve bin after that bastard for years! He’s worth a couple of thousand!’

  Hanney wiped the rain from his face with his wet shirt-sleeve and stepped forward.

  ‘Who the hell is Snake Adams, boy?’

  ‘His face was on one of them wanted posters we looked at earlier!’ Iron Eyes almost drooled at the thought of even more bounty money. ‘So were a couple of the other riders!’

  ‘Leave ’em be, boy!’ Hanney begged. ‘Ya already done enough killin’ for one day. There are just too many of them. Why push ya luck?’

  Iron Eyes pulled his other gun from his left pocket. His thumb pulled back its hammer until it fully locked.

  ‘That’s what I do! They’re wanted dead or alive!’ he snapped. ‘I ain’t gonna let them fall into the hands of some other bounty hunter!’

  Hanney tried to hold his fearsome companion back, but the tall skeletal figure could not be stopped. He had already started to walk towards the six men.

  ‘Stop, boy!’ Hanney pleaded. ‘This is plumb loco!’

  ‘Cover my back or go hide someplace!’ Iron Eyes said over his shoulder.

  ‘It’s up to you! There ain’t no third way!’

  Hanney cursed silently and ran after the bounty hunter.

  Snake Adams stood in the pouring rain holding what was left of the hotel sign in his hands. He could still make out the name ‘Avalon’ amid the charred and cracked paint.

  ‘This is the hotel where we was meant to meet up with Jackson Wylie, boys!’ Adams gasped in disbelief. ‘This chunk of charcoal was it!’

  Brewster kicked at the sodden ashes.

  ‘Reckon he was in there when it went up?’

  Furiously, Adams threw the wooden sign down.

  ‘I don’t give a hoot about Wylie, One Ear. I’m wondering where our money is! What if it was in here when the hotel caught fire?’

  Ferdy Mayne shook his
head and leaned on his saddle.

  ‘I got me a feelin’ that them soft beds went up in smoke, boys.’

  Lynch and Parker moved into the black ashes as if they might find answers to their leader’s question. The two outlaws searched for a few minutes before returning to the frustrated Adams.

  ‘If that gold is here, I doubt that we’ll ever find it!’ Lynch said. ‘It could have melted.’

  ‘Maybe Wylie was never in here in the first place, Snake,’ Kyle Parker suggested. ‘Or he got out when the place caught fire.’

  Adams rubbed his face anxiously.

  ‘What could have happened here?’ he mumbled under his breath. ‘It don’t add up.’

  The entire area lit up as lightning erupted in the storm clouds above them. Coop Starr edged away from their horses to the side of the troubled Adams. He nudged the outlaw leader’s arm and pointed at the two approaching figures.

  ‘Somebody’s headed this way, Snake.’

  Adams turned on his heels and looked to where his cohort was indicating.

  ‘It’s just a couple of nosy locals, Snake. Don’t pay them no heed,’ Brewster said.

  The outlaw leader’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the infamous bounty hunter. Adams swallowed hard and vainly tried to snap his wet fingers to get his men’s attention.

  ‘Ya see him?’ he yelled. ‘Do ya?’

  The five outlaws gathered around Adams.

  ‘Sure we see them, Snake.’ Starr nodded.

  ‘No! Not them, just the tall critter! See him? Don’t ya know who that is?’

  None of his followers answered.

  ‘That’s Iron Eyes!’ Adams gasped in shock. ‘That’s Iron Eyes, the bounty hunter!’

  ‘The bounty hunter?’ Mayne cleared his throat and started to pay attention for the first time in days. ‘I thought he was dead.’

  ‘Yep! So did I!’ Snake Adams snapped. ‘That animal is the most dangerous man hunter there ever was! He tried to get me a few years back. I’m still carryin’ his lead!’

  ‘Let’s get out of here!’ Ben Lynch said, moving to his horse and grabbing its reins. ‘Iron Eyes don’t take nobody in alive. He’ll kill us all!’