by Rory Black
Iron Eyes lowered his head like a bull contemplating a charge a matador’s cape. His fiery stare burned across the distance between them.
‘You leave Iron Eyes alone and go away now,’ he snarled as his fists clenched at his sides.
Only two of the big men were amused by the words that came spitting from the mouth of Iron Eyes. Shake Norris remained at the end of the boardwalk silently watching the events unfurl. Unlike Barker and Smith, the largest of the lumberjacks was nowhere near as confident as them. He sensed that there was more to the long-haired stranger than met the eye. He could tell that the youngster was like a powder keg and about to explode into action.
‘Look at him, boys,’ Hog Barker shouted as he rested his shoulder against the wooden upright and stared at the unusual vision before him. ‘He sure is a pitiful sight to behold and no mistake.’
‘All Injuns are pitiful, Hog,’ Smith grunted.
A strange new sensation swept over Iron Eyes as he stood between the burly men. He could not understand why he felt so angry because it was an emotion that was totally alien to him. He had never before been mocked or taunted by anyone and that did not sit well with him.
‘I tell you again,’ Iron Eyes growled. ‘I am not Injun.’
‘You sure smell like one,’ Barker laughed.
Iron Eyes tilted his head and stared through his mane of sweat-soaked locks at Barker. He remained totally still as he listened to Shake Norris move at the end of the boardwalk. He then cast his bullet-coloured eyes at the third logger. Drew Smith was probably the most dangerous of the bunch and continually stroked his holstered gun grip.
‘He talks mighty big for a stinking Injun, Hog,’ Smith commented. ‘We should teach him a lesson that it don’t pay to talk back to his betters.’
‘You could be right, Drew,’ Barker grinned. ‘We should pistol whip the freak and then tie him to a horse and drag his sorrowful hide around town. That should do the trick.’
Silently, Iron Eyes inhaled deeply. He was like a volcano getting ready to erupt into unimaginable ferocity. His eyes continued to watch them through the limp strands of his hair.
‘Can’t you talk, scarecrow?’ Barker shouted before edging away from the wooden upright and moving toward the silent young hunter. ‘Look at you, boy. What kinda gear are you wearing? No white man wears clothes like that. You’re just pathetic. Ain’t you ashamed of being in the same town as real men, boy?’
Smith and Norris moved closer to Iron Eyes as he absorbed the venomous insults that Barker was dishing out at him. The tall hunter continued to listen to the boards creak under their boots as they surrounded him.
Barker grabbed at Iron Eyes’ long hair and twisted it in his large hand like a mangle. Yet no matter how much the logger twisted the hair, Iron Eyes showed no reaction.
‘Cat got your tongue, boy?’ he screamed at Iron Eyes, but he still did not react to the lumberjacks.
Barker released his grip of the greasy mane and then rubbed the palm of his hand down his shirt. Although none of them could actually see Iron Eyes’ face, the gaunt hunter observed them clearly from behind the veil of limp matted strands.
‘Maybe he’s gone mute, Hog,’ Smith laughed.
‘He sure is quiet,’ Barker rocked with laughter.
‘I got me a feeling he’s one of them Injuns we’ve seen up in the forest,’ Smith boomed.
Finally Iron Eyes was through being insulted and mocked by the men who insisted on calling him by the name of those who had been trying to kill him for all of his days. He straightened up to his full height and shook the hair off his face and stared at them in turn with cold calculating eyes.
His adversaries stopped in their tracks as they caught sight of his hardened features. Iron Eyes no longer looked as vulnerable as he had when they first saw him. Now Iron Eyes looked as lethal as he truly was.
He glared at them in turn.
‘Go away or I will kill you,’ he warned.
The lumberjacks were startled, yet only Norris backed away to the side of the general store. He alone was smart enough to realize that Iron Eyes was not merely warning them, he was making a prophecy.
‘Let’s get out of here, boys,’ he urged nervously. ‘That critter means it. He’s gonna kill us.’
Iron Eyes raised his hands and pushed his hair off his face. His unblinking stare glared at Smith and Barker in turn in the same way that he always looked at his chosen prey.
‘Listen to big man,’ he hissed like a sidewinder at Barker and Smith. ‘He is smart. I will kill you.’
‘Shake ain’t smart,’ Barker shook his head and spat at Iron Eyes. ‘He’s just gutless.’
The gaunt hunter wiped the spittle from his face and then began to growl like a wild beast. Every sinew in his lean body shook as his eyes darted between Barker and Smith.
Hog Barker looked hard at Iron Eyes as though suddenly aware that this misfit might not be quite as easily beaten as they had first imagined. His hand moved toward his holstered six-shooter.
‘I’m gonna bust you into little bits, kid,’ he vowed before shaking his fist at the tall young hunter. ‘No freak of nature ever got the better of me and I don’t intend letting you be the first. You’re the one that’s gonna die.’
‘Let’s kill him, Hog,’ Smith said threateningly.
Barker nodded angrily.
‘You’re a dead man,’ he started jabbing a massive digit in the air between himself and Iron Eyes. Each movement was followed by words designed to make the emotionless young hunter react and rush him. ‘You are the dumbest critter I ever set eyes on.’
Iron Eyes said nothing.
Barker snarled. ‘You ain’t nothing but a stinking Injun trying to look like regular folks. It don’t work, boy. We can smell you just like we can smell your kinfolk back in them trees. It ain’t no crime in this territory to kill an Injun.’
‘Hell, you’re already a dead man,’ Smith joshed as he too started to poke at the air with his own finger. ‘We’d be doing you a favour by killing you.’
Iron Eyes took a step forward.
‘I am no Injun,’ the emaciated hunter spat. ‘I am Iron Eyes the wolf.’
Smith and Barker clutched their bellies as they rocked with laughter.
‘You’re plumb loco, boy,’ Barker laughed. ‘You really think that you’re a wolf?’
‘He’s loco all right,’ Smith joked. ‘Must have got his brains kicked out by an ornery mule. We’d best shoot the varmint now before he starts howling.’
Iron Eyes started to breathe long and hard.
‘Let’s leave this fella be, boys,’ Norris said. ‘I got me a real bad feeling about the scrawny critter.’
Barker’s eyebrows rose in astonishment when he heard his friend’s words. He glanced at the larger of the loggers and laughed.
‘You reckon that this skinny Injun can get the better of us, Shake?’ he asked before pulling his six-shooter from its holster and waving it under the nose of Iron Eyes. ‘Watch what he does when I blow his head off his shoulders.’
Norris looked even more concerned.
‘Yep, I’m scared, boys. I got me a feeling that he’s way more dangerous than he looks,’ Norris nodded firmly. ‘Let’s go back to the saloon and do us some more drinking, Hog.’
Smith rallied next to Barker.
‘Don’t go listening to Shake, Hog,’ he urged. ‘He ain’t even toting a gun. We got to teach this stinking Injun a lesson or before we know what’s happening Silver Creek will be full of them.’
Hog Barker screwed up his face and nodded.
‘Damn right, Drew,’ he stepped forward with his six-gun aimed straight at Iron Eyes. ‘I’m gonna kill this bastard so none of his kind dare show their faces in Silver Creek ever again.’
The words had barely left the lumberjack’s mouth when Iron Eyes sprang into action. His left forearm fanned and knocked the gun barrel aside. He then smashed his right fist into the face of the far bulkier man. As Barker staggered back, Iron Ey
es kicked out and caught Smith in his belly. He then lowered his head and ran like a raging bull into the surprised Barker.
Iron Eyes hit the logger with all his might.
Both he and Barker flew off the boardwalk and crashed through the hitching pole a few feet below. Splinters rose up into the air from the shattered remnants of the pole and showered over the scene before they collided with the unforgiving ground. Barker landed on his back amid the debris as the hunter bounced off the logger’s ample girth.
Iron Eyes somersaulted over the winded Barker and landed on his feet. He kicked the six-shooter from Barker’s hand and glanced at Smith dragging his own gun from his holster.
Barker groaned and attempted to rise.
Iron Eyes kicked the logger in the jaw and then, as teeth and blood splattered in all directions, he felt the heat of a bullet pass within inches of his leg. The hunter spun around and looked up at Smith on the boardwalk holding his freshly discharged weapon in his hand.
Iron Eyes gave out a guttural growl.
Smith fired another shot at Iron Eyes. The bullet flew over his head. The young hunter narrowed his bullet-coloured eyes as a fevered rage enveloped him.
Iron Eyes charged.
In three long strides his agile body had mounted a water trough and leapt on to the boardwalk. He caught Smith around the waist and knocked the logger off his feet. Both men crashed on to the boardwalk. Dust rose around the men as Smith desperately tried to cock his six-gun again while the lean hunter grappled with the far heavier man.
Iron Eyes was no match for the far bulkier logger. He was tossed around mercilessly but hung on doggedly. As they wrestled Iron Eyes realized that the far stronger man still had his six-shooter in his hand.
No matter how hard the younger man tried, he could not stop Smith from dragging back on his gun hammer. The sound of the smoking weapon being cocked alerted Iron Eyes that the logger was far from finished.
Both men rolled over and over in a frenzied battle to get the upper hand. Although the lumberjack was far more powerful, the emaciated youngster was more agile. He twisted and turned and kept punching Smith’s face at every opportunity as they rolled across the boardwalk.
Knowing that his life depended upon it, Iron Eyes’ bony left hand firmly gripped Smith’s wrist in an attempt to stop the lumberjack from firing the gun again.
Then Smith smashed a powerful fist into his foe’s jaw.
The power of the punch rocked Iron Eyes’ head. A lightning bolt exploded inside his skull as he fell stunned on to his face.
Blood filled his throat and came sputtering out of his mouth as he turned his head. Iron Eyes watched the crimson pool grow beside his open mouth. Then before he had time to gather his dazed thoughts he felt the hot steel barrel of Smith’s .45 press against his temple.
‘You fight pretty good for a skinny bastard,’ Smith snarled into the hunter’s ear.
The feel of the metal against his skull dragged Iron Eyes out of his stupor. Faster than he had ever moved before, he raised his hand and hit the six-shooter away just as Smith squeezed its trigger.
The sound was deafening. Heat from the blinding flash burned Iron Eyes’ cheekbone as the bullet passed within inches of the long-legged hunter. Racked by pain, Iron Eyes scrambled back to his feet just as Smith swung his left fist at him venomously. The logger’s powerful punch narrowly missed the younger man’s jaw as Iron Eyes stumbled against the large store window.
Before Iron Eyes could steady himself the lumberjack threw his superior bulk at the still dazed hunter. The horrendous sound of breaking glass filled the entire town as both men went crashing through one of the store’s windows.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Frantically, both men kept smashing their fists into one another as they crashed through the tall window and flew through the air. Drew Smith had caught his tall opponent around the middle and sent them both stumbling backward through the large window. A thousand shards of glass hit the interior of the store as Iron Eyes and Smith landed heavily on the floorboards. Even as both men fought feverishly on the ground, glass daggers landed on and around them.
Smith arched his back as he was peppered with the dangerous debris from the window. Yet even as chunks of glass hit the logger, he continued to try and better the youngster beneath him. He thrashed the gun hammer at his opponent’s head, but the stunned young hunter managed to avoid the hot six-shooter.
Iron Eyes grabbed at Smith’s face and clawed at the far heavier man’s eyes in an attempt to make the lumberjack get off him. It was a desperate act but Iron Eyes knew that if he did not get Smith off him soon, the gun would smash his skull into fragments.
Finally Smith pulled back and allowed Iron Eyes to escape from under him. The youngster grabbed the wrist of his foe and jerked it backward into Smith’s face. The body of the gun caught the logger across the bridge of his nose.
Pain rocked the big man as he felt the bones in his face shatter. Smith rocked on his knees as Iron Eyes slid out from under him. The youngster threw himself at the lumberjack, caught Smith around his muscular shoulders and sent him flying on to his back. Slivers of glass fell from the flesh of both men as they wrestled on the ground. Blood seeped from the numerous wounds of both men as they continued to blindly fight.
It was like two rutting stags battling for supremacy.
Neither was willing to quit. They both knew that to do so was to die. They traded blows and knocked one another through the store to the store-keeper’s horror.
‘Quit that,’ Kermit Lang screamed as he watched his store being turned to matchwood before his eyes. ‘Get the hell out of here before you wreck the place.’
The words fell on deaf ears. Neither Smith nor Iron Eyes could hear anything apart from the sound of the store being demolished around them. Iron Eyes could see the six-gun in Smith’s hand trying to get a bead on his painfully lean frame and doing everything he could to avoid the lethal weapon.
Iron Eyes leapt with the agility of a puma over one of the store-keeper’s display stands, landed behind it and then pushed the entire thing over Smith as the logger lumbered toward it.
Goods crashed on top of the far larger man. Everything from lanterns to candlesticks cascaded on to the lumberjack as he wiped the blood from his jaw and tried to see his elusive prey.
‘Stop it, you mindless fools,’ Lang screamed out at the top of his voice. It was pointless though. Neither Smith nor Iron Eyes could hear anything apart from their own grunts.
As the large wooden stand broke into a dozen pieces, Iron Eyes jumped at Smith. Both men hit the floorboards hard, but it was the youngster who scrambled to his feet first.
Panting heavily, Iron Eyes saw Smith dragging back on his gun hammer again. Before the logger had time to raise the gun and fire, the athletic youngster leapt through the shattered window on to the boardwalk.
Iron Eyes landed on his hands and rolled over until he was in a crouching position. He swung around and watched as Smith came crashing back out after him like a real ornery grizzly.
Not waiting for Smith to fire his gun again, Iron Eyes charged into the lumberjack with every scrap of strength that he could muster. His head hit Smith in his belly and stopped the far larger man in his tracks. But Smith did not topple over. The logger simply watched as Iron Eyes bounced off his ample girth.
Suddenly the six-gun fired.
The shot went between Iron Eyes’ thin legs and took a chunk of the boardwalk off the ground. Iron Eyes let out a bone-chilling growl and leapt to his feet. His bullet-coloured eyes glared at Smith as he plucked shards of glass from his blood-soaked shirt.
‘Big mistake, fat man,’ he snarled.
‘What you call me, runt?’ smith raged.
Iron Eyes was through talking. He flew through the air at Smith like a whirlwind. The six-gun erupted again into deafening fury. The bullet missed the thin body of the youngster.
Drew Smith was as weary as the blood-soaked youngster. He fired his gun at his evasive targ
et but missed Iron Eyes by at least a foot.
‘Stand still, you yella bastard,’ the logger gasped.
Iron Eyes rubbed the scarlet gore off his face and fought to remain on his tired legs. Every ounce of his honed instincts told him that the brutal battle was near an end and all he had to do was stay alive for a little longer.
‘Stand still,’ Smith yelled as he dragged his gun hammer back again. ‘I wanna kill you clean.’
It was obvious that the lumberjack was deadly serious and wanted to put an end to Iron Eyes with one clean shot of his smoking .45. Moving back and forth across the boardwalk, Iron Eyes arched in agony as the six-shooter spewed out another bullet.
The tall youngster winced as he felt the bullet as it cut a trail across his ribs. He staggered and glared at Smith. His hand grabbed at his side and then he noticed the blood trickling from between his bony fingers.
Iron Eyes could not understand why the lumberjack did not fire again and finish him. He stared at the bleeding Smith and waited for the logger to finish him off.
But Drew Smith had no bullets left in the chambers of his smoking gun, only spent casings. Smith laughed like a madman at Iron Eyes. The hunter swayed on to his boots and cradled his side with his hand. His bullet-coloured eyes focused through the gunsmoke at the laughing lumberjack.
‘Did that hurt, Injun?’ Smith taunted as he opened up his six-gun and shook the casings out.
Iron Eyes had no notion of how guns worked and did not understand what the lumberjack was doing as the bigger man started to pull fresh bullets from his gun-belt and started to reload.
‘It hurt,’ Iron Eyes spat.
‘You’re a dead Injun, boy,’ Smith bellowed. ‘Get ready to meet your Maker.’
Iron Eyes watched as Smith kept sliding bullets into the smoking belly of his firearm. His eyes narrowed.
‘What you doing?’ Iron Eyes asked curiously.
The question confused the logger. Smith paused and looked the wounded hunter in the eyes.
‘I’m reloading my gun, you halfwit,’ he said. ‘Ain’t you seen a man reloading his gun before?’
