The Spirit of Iron Eyes

by Rory Black

  If there was a single chance of capturing the man who had murdered his daughters, it was during the hours of darkness. Yet the brilliant moon was almost as bright as the noonday sun.

  Quaid felt another shiver trace his spine.

  He had heard tales that the Apache would not fight during the night. The shooting had certainly stopped as soon as the sun had set, but perhaps there had been another reason for that.

  Quaid rubbed his jawline.

  Perhaps the reason for the end of the shooting was that the Apache had finally managed to kill the bounty hunter known as Iron Eyes.

  Could that be it?

  Had the Apache only stopped fighting because they had already destroyed their enemy? Would they turn their rifles upon him once he turned up?

  He swallowed hard and tapped his spurs again.

  The black gelding started to canter as its master continued to brood.

  Tom Quaid still had a million questions filling his mind as his mount gathered pace. The trouble was, he now had a million answers too.

  Which one was right?

  He knew that he would find out when he reached the high moonlit ridge. Until then, he could do nothing except ride.

  Chapter Eight

  Iron Eyes had watched the moon move across the heavens and knew that it must be more than an hour since the Apache had stopped attacking him. They were still down there amid the brush and rocks. He could smell the food they were cooking even though he could not make out where their camp-fire was. Yet Iron Eyes was seldom hungry at the best of times, and this was far from being the best of times. Only one thought filled his mind as droplets of blood continued to drip from the limp strands of his long hair: was it possible to escape? Nothing had ever defeated him before, but this time he knew that he was in a pretty tight spot. Since the Apache had stopped their attack he had used up the seemingly eternal time to good purpose. He had used the razor-sharp edge of his knife to trim all the cigar fragments he had found in his pockets into a score of smaller smokes.

  And he had waited.

  Waited to see if the Indians were trying to fool him into thinking that they would not fight during the night. So far they had not tried to do anything and the bounty hunter began to believe that he was safe until sunrise. He gripped one of the cigar trimmings in his teeth and looked around the cave as the moonlight crept deeper into it. The cave was like a tomb. A burial place waiting for a corpse to fill its large belly. Iron Eyes had no intention of being that corpse.

  When the sun had set he had wondered if it were possible for him to climb down from the high cave, steal one of the Apache ponies and make his escape. It had been a idea which had soon evaporated when the large bright moon had risen over the prairie to replace the blazing sun.

  The moon was big and bright and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky that might give him cover.

  Iron Eyes knew there was no escape using the same route that had brought him to this high vantage point. The haunting blue moonlight ensured that he remained inside the cave.

  The Indians had been strangely silent since darkness had swept over the ridge and prairie. Yet they were still down there amid the brush and rocks. Now though he could hear the chilling sound of their chanting voices drifting on the warm night air.

  Iron Eyes knew that they were singing to their gods.

  Like the bounty hunter, they were still wide awake.

  Awake and watching the mouth of the cave.

  But unlike the Apache, Iron Eyes had no gods to turn to and pray to for help. He was alone, as he had always been. Alone with only his own demons for company.

  Iron Eyes knew that there were no more than seven hours of darkness at this time of the year and at least one of them had already come and gone.

  He rose to his feet and felt the roof of the cave touch his tender scalp. He stooped and moved deeper into the cave trying to work out how far it went into the ridge.

  Could this be a tunnel which actually went right the way through the sand-colored rock?

  Iron Eyes found his matches again, struck one on the cave wall and stared deeper into the dark natural tunnel. It seemed to go on for quite a long way. The match went out when its flame seemed to catch a small draught.

  The bounty hunter was curious.

  He ignited another match with his thumbnail and held it ahead of him toward the back of cave.

  Again the flame was blown out.

  Iron Eyes knew that there was a gentle breeze blowing through the cave from somewhere far into the ridge of sandy stone. Was there a way out of here?

  There had to be, he surmised. Fresh air did not come out of the bowels of the earth. But it did flow through tunnels.

  The tall man returned to his coat and guns. He scooped the coat off the ground and put it on before picking up his prized Navy Colts and tucking them into his belt. He knelt and picked up every one of the bullets and dropped them into his deep pockets, then he placed the Apache water bag on his left shoulder.

  Placing another of his small trimmed cigars between his teeth, Iron Eyes started to walk carefully towards the rear of the cave with his arms outstretched. He knew that he needed a torch to guide him but the cave had nothing in it but dust.

  Sweat and blood ran down his face and dripped from the jaw of the tall man as he felt his way further and further into the blackness.

  It was so dark that Iron Eyes felt as if he were totally blind. Without sight, he had to rely upon his other senses to guide him.

  There seemed to be no reason for it but the walls of the cave seemed to be getting warmer the deeper he went into the black tunnel. Maybe the rocks had absorbed every ounce of the blazing sun’s heat during the day and it was only after sunset that the sand-colored stone was able to release it, he thought.

  With every step of his long legs Iron Eyes knew that he was probably venturing into a place where no other living man had ever gone before. The rocks felt warmer as his hands groped along their rough surfaces. He could hear water dripping far ahead of him and smell the scent of air as it traced past his flared nostrils. Even his scarred skin could sense the touch of a gentle breeze.

  Iron Eyes wondered why this should be. If there was a way out of this cave somewhere down the tunnel, why was there no light to be seen?

  Again he caught the scent of fresh prairie air mixed with the warm stale cave air which surrounded him.

  Somewhere there was an opening that was allowing air to flow through the cave tunnel.

  He had to keep going until he found that opening. Iron Eyes hoped that when he eventually reached it, it would be big enough for him to squeeze through and escape.

  The tunnel seemed to drop away from him. Carefully, the bounty hunter felt his way down a steep incline. Then the cave floor appeared to level out again. He continued groping his way slowly along the black passage of stone. Again the ground beneath his mule-ear boots fell away and he had to cling to either side of the cave walls just to maintain his balance. Iron Eyes slid for more than ten feet on his side until his boots felt the ground beneath them once more. He stood and began walking again.

  No wonder he could not see the other cave mouth, he thought. It must be on a far lower level.

  The cool breeze was stronger now and grew even stronger with every step that he took. Iron Eyes adjusted the water bag on his shoulder and realized that there was now far more head room above him. He carried on making his way along the black tunnel until once more he sensed that he was moving down another steep incline.

  Step after step he managed to find his way down to the next level part of the cave floor. He stopped and rested for a few moments and lowered the water bag from his shoulder. He pulled its stopper and drank. The cold water refreshed him enough to make him aware that there was something in the tunnel.

  Suddenly, a chilling sound filled his ears.

  A sound that he recognized.

  Iron Eyes lowered the water bag and dropped it next to his left leg as he listened. His eyes tried desperately t
o see but it was just too dark. Even his keen eyes could not locate the thing that had frozen him to the spot.

  Again the sound echoed around the cave walls.

  There was no mistaking it.

  The rattle began to grow louder.

  ‘Rattler!’ he whispered under his breath. He had lost count of how many times he had bumped into the strange unpredictable creatures in the past. But this was the first time that he had been unable to see the deadly viper who warned its prey with the rattle at the end of its vibrating tail.

  Iron Eyes lowered his right arm from off the rough wall surface and moved it slowly towards the pistol grips that poked out from his belt.

  His long bony fingers wrapped around one of the handles of his matched Navy Colts and began to pull it free of his belt. As its barrel cleared the belt, the sound grew even louder.

  The sound of the sidewinder’s rattle was now furious.

  Iron Eyes cocked the gun hammer until it fully locked, then he desperately used his ears to try and locate the poisonous snake. He thought about the matches in his shirt pocket. If he were to ignite one, he might be able to see his target. But he knew that a rattler could strike out far faster than it would take his own eyes to adjust.

  Sweat dripped from his face as if someone had poured a canteen of water over his head. Iron Eyes knew that the snake was ready to strike. It had to be coiled if its rattle was making so much noise. A moving sidewinder was usually silent.

  The barrel of his gun swayed back and forth as he blindly searched for the deadly viper.

  With only the noisy tail of the snake to guide him, Iron Eyes had to try and work out where its head might be. All he could tell for certain was that the snake was close.

  Too close.

  He gritted his teeth and bit through the unlit cigar. He knew that he had to try and kill this creature with his first shot, for once the bullet left the barrel the blinding light would most probably make the rattler strike.

  Angry snakes always struck out at their enemies.

  Iron Eyes tried to ignore the sound of his pounding heart as it beat frantically inside his painfully thin frame. He concentrated on the sound of the rattler and tried to aim the gun at it.

  He inhaled deeply. Held his breath and fired.

  The white explosion of light blinded the bounty hunter and the sound as the firing pin hit the bullet was deafening.

  Frantically Iron Eyes cocked the hammer again and listened hard for the snake’s rattle. He could hear nothing above the ringing in his ears. Wherever the sidewinder was, he was going to taste more lead, the bounty hunter thought.

  He fired again and again in a desperate bid to kill the unseen snake.

  When the ringing in his ears eventually stopped, Iron Eyes strained to hear the sound of the tail. There was nothing but silence.

  Sweat and blood continued to seep from his scalp into the darkness as he licked his dry lips in a vain attempt to rid his mouth of the bitter taste of gun smoke.

  Had he succeeded in killing the snake?

  It was possible considering that he had tried to group his bullets tightly in the general direction that he thought the sound of the sidewinder’s tail had come from.

  But had he hit it?

  Perhaps he had only frightened it away to lie in wait for him further into the black cave tunnel! The thought troubled the tall crouching figure.

  He inhaled deeply and decided that nothing would be gained by remaining here. He had to carry on and try and find out where the gentle draught of cool night air was coming from.

  Iron Eyes bent his knees and groped for the water bag’s neck until he located it beside his leg. He slowly straightened, up and placed the cool bag over his broad left shoulder.

  He must have hit it, he thought. Even without the sense of sight, he had killed too many things to suddenly lose the honed knack of bringing death to his chosen prey.

  The gentle breeze hit his face again and made him look straight ahead into the impenetrable darkness. It was stronger now and he could smell the scent of sagebrush. He was close to his goal.

  Cautiously he moved his right leg forward to continue his search for the elusive cave mouth exit. It had only gone a matter of inches when he felt something hit the side of his boot. The snake’s powerful fangs penetrated his boot and sank deeply into his flesh.

  He staggered and fell heavily. He felt the water bag fall off his shoulder as he twisted on the sand in the blackness. Pain tore through him. He kicked out his legs but knew that the rattler’s fangs were still buried into his calf muscle, the creature unwilling or unable to release its hold on him.

  It felt as though a million poisonous needles were racing through his body at exactly the same moment. He rolled over and over trying to escape the unseen enemy who was forcing its fangs deeper into his flesh.

  His entire body crashed into the cave wall. For a brief moment he felt flames burning inside his guts. It was as if his very soul was being consumed by an inferno of poison. He scrambled back on to his feet and then grabbed at his skull as it filled with a legion of bursting colors.

  With venom pumping into his leg, Iron Eyes screamed out in agony.

  Chapter Nine

  The sounds of bullets had alerted the Apache that something was happening in the high cave, but it was the blood-chilling scream which had echoed out of the cave mouth high on the moonlit ridge that drew every Indian’s eyes in a mixture of shock and fear.

  It had sounded like something from another world to the painted braves. None of them could believe that anything on this earth was capable of making such a horrific sound.

  None of the tribe had ever heard anything like the noise which had bellowed out above them. The painted braves ran in confusion and gathered around the silent figure of their chief, Conchowata.

  ‘What was that?’ It was as if every one of the braves asked exactly the same question at the very same moment. The chief glanced at Diamond Back Jones who was sitting on his saddle next to his grazing horse.

  ‘Has my brother ever heard such a sound in his time with the white eyes?’ Conchowata asked.

  Diamond Back Jones rose from his saddle near the blazing camp-fire and strode across the sand until he could see the high cave.

  ‘Even a stuck pig don’t make that kinda noise, chief.’

  ‘Then what was it?’ Conchowata asked the outlaw.

  ‘I have never heard anything like that, great chief,’ Jones admitted as he felt a bead of sweat run down from his hairline and drip from his furrowed brow. ‘But we know that the evil one is up there. Could he have killed something in the cave, or maybe it killed him?’

  ‘Nothing of this earth made that noise,’ one of the Apache warriors said.

  ‘The shooting was real enough though!’ Jones muttered as he tried to work out if it were possible for the bounty hunter to have cried out so chillingly.

  ‘The evil one tried to kill something up there!’ a warrior suggested.

  ‘Was it a demon?’ Conchowata swallowed hard as the question came from his lips. ‘Could there be a demon in that cave?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jones admitted. He stepped even closer to the ridge and continued to stare up at the small cave opening far above them.

  ‘Could a man make such a noise?’ another of the warriors asked.

  Diamond Back Jones rubbed his face. ‘I have heard many men cry out in pain and fear, but none of them sounded like that.’

  Conchowata rested a hand on the shoulder of the Apache who was dressed like a white man. Jones’s head turned and looked into his chief’s eyes.

  ‘Do you think that there are animals up there in the cave, my brother? One of which was killed by the bullets of the evil one?’

  ‘Or killed the one called Iron Eyes!’ another brave said.

  Jones returned his eyes to the cave. The light of the moon made the entire ridge appear to be glowing in an unholy shade of blue.

  ‘What animal could reach that place? The cave is too far
up for most animals to reach.’

  ‘A mountain lion could!’ another of the braves declared firmly. ‘They can leap ten times their own height. A lion could reach the cave in three or four strides.’

  Jones nodded.

  ‘That is true. But was it an animal that cried out or Iron Eyes?’

  ‘But was that the sound of a lion?’ the chief asked, feeling the hairs on the nape of his neck tingle in fear beneath his long grey hair.

  ‘I think not!’Jones shrugged.

  ‘Are there evil spirits in that place?’ the eldest son of the chief asked.

  Conchowata had seen many things in his long life and knew that a wise chief never dismissed anything. For as soon as a man said that something did not exist, it usually appeared and made him look foolish.

  ‘I can not say, Geroma. But whatever made that sound, it was either to mark injury or death.’

  Diamond Back Jones sighed heavily, pulled his guns from their holsters and checked their chambers.

  ‘I’m going up there, Conchowata.’

  The sound of disbelief raced through the assembled Indians as they watched Jones start to walk towards the foot of the rugged rock face.

  ‘Do not go up there, my brother!’ Conchowata demanded as he paced after the Apache outlaw. ‘The gods will not allow any of our people to fight after the sun has set. You know that is bad medicine.’

  Diamond Back Jones looked again into the familiar eyes of the chief.

  ‘I have lived with the white eyes long enough to know that there is no such thing as bad medicine, Conchowata. Only bullets make medicine. I have killed many white eyes since leaving the tribe. Many of them during the hours of night. I am not afraid. I’m going up there to see if Iron Eyes is still there.’

  The chief grabbed Jones’s arm firmly.

  ‘I am chief! I say no!’

  ‘This is nonsense! I wanna see if the evil Iron Eyes is still alive up there! For all we know it was he who screamed out. Maybe there is an animal up there and it has killed him!’

  ‘What if he is still alive?’ Geroma asked as he stood next to his father.