The Wrath of Iron Eyes (An Iron Eyes Western #5)

by Rory Black

  Iron Eyes sniffed at the night air. ‘Cougars leave a scent that a hunter can smell a mile off. All critters have their own stink. Rosie Smith had perfume on; I can smell that too. I can smell the bastards who rode down here with her, and I’ll know them when we meet up.’

  ‘And then?’ the sheriff asked the gaunt rider as he drew his horse level.

  ‘When my nostrils are filled with their scent, I’ll kill the whole lot of them,’ Iron Eyes replied. His eyes were studying the wet ground as he forced his dapple-gray on and on.

  ‘You forget there are three of us, Iron Eyes,’ the train-robber added.

  ‘I don’t need either of you. When I start killing just stay behind my gun barrels.’ Iron Eyes tapped his spurs into the flesh of his horse and sat bolt upright as the animal increased its pace.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The morning sun had risen and traced its way across the deep lake at the foot of the cascade until its golden rays penetrated the ever-moving curtain of shimmering water. Within the cave the light of the new day spread quickly over the seven silent recumbent souls, yet two of their number had not closed their eyes.

  Malverez still lay with his hand on the handle of one of his prized Colts, watching the five other bandits who continued to snore.

  Rosie Smith lay beneath the heavy velvet drapes pretending to be asleep. She had not moved for nearly six hours for fear of arousing her abductors and making them complete the job they had already started.

  She knew that it must already be dawn. The sound of singing birds had alerted her to the beginning of the new day many minutes earlier.

  The warmth of the sun had filtered through the never-ceasing curtain of water, falling from the hundred-foot-high cliff in front of the cave entrance.

  The gentle heat touched Rosie’s exposed cheek and she felt even more afraid than she had done since the ruthless bandits had taken her by force from her home.

  For her entire life she had wondered what being able to see might be like. But Rosie had nothing to compare her blindness with as she had never had the gift of sight. To her the world was filled with the aromas of things and people. Sounds came from everywhere and she had learned to evaluate them as only those denied a vital sense can. Touch had also been another of her senses which meant more to her than those who had vision to assist their journey through life.

  Lying beneath the makeshift blanket, Rosie found herself wishing that she could actually see her enemies, even if it were for only a fleeting moment.

  The sleeping bandits were all around her and their snores gave her some idea as to their whereabouts but the crashing noise of the waterfall made everything else confused.

  She knew that to escape the clutches of these men, she had to be able to see. It was obvious to the intelligent female that she had been carried down a steep slope and brought into a cave and that it was behind a waterfall. She knew it was impossible for her to negotiate the return route to the top of the trail where the men had left their horses and the wagon.

  Rosie felt the hand of Malverez on her shoulder for the umpteenth time and felt her entire being go rigid. She had not been able to understand a single word that the Mexican bandits had been saying to each other during the night, but she knew they were heated.

  She had little if no knowledge of life, and had been protected from all who might have shown any interest in her, but she felt that these men wanted something from her that she was unwilling to give.

  The strong hand of the bandit leader pulled her shoulder until she felt herself rolling over to face him. Her heart began to thunder inside her chest.

  What did he want? her mind cried out.

  ‘Do not make a sound, my pretty one,’ Malverez whispered into her ear.

  Sheriff Tom Hardin had a big decision to make. It was probably the biggest one of his entire life. Should he tell Iron Eyes that the girl who had not turned away from his ghastly scarred features had only not done so because she was blind? Her beautiful pale blue eyes simply could not see the hideous vision that made all others shun him.

  Or should he allow the injured bounty hunter to continue under the delusion that Rosie Smith actually liked what she had seen when she looked at him?

  With a man as unpredictable as Iron Eyes, either choice might have devastating, if not lethal, consequences. The sheriff knew that the bounty hunter was not a man to mess with, even when he was fit. But he was far from fit. He was like a wounded animal as he silently steered the gray mount.

  What effect would the truth have on him? Hardin did not want to take the risk of finding out but he knew that he would soon have somehow to inform Iron Eyes that the girl they were seeking was actually totally blind. To fail to do so would put Rosie Smith in even more danger.

  But if Iron Eyes knew that the female he was attempting to rescue was actually blind, would he continue?

  Could Sheriff Hardin and Black Ben Tucker find her without the undoubted tracking skills of Iron Eyes? It seemed doubtful as neither man had any experience at tracking anything, let alone cold-blooded bandits.

  Hardin knew it was cruel to allow the sick bounty hunter to remain ignorant of the truth, but he was afraid.

  Iron Eyes wanted to find the lovely Rosie Smith and there was nothing that could stop him from doing so. He was like a stick of dynamite with its fuse already lit.

  Tom Hardin knew that he had to tell the grim rider the truth soon, but not quite yet. The sheriff had to wait until they reached their destination and pray that the bounty hunter would not turn on him instead of the men who had kidnapped the innocent Rosie.

  The two horsemen followed the dapple-gray mount as its master guided it away from the river’s edge and into thick lush undergrowth.

  Iron Eyes raised his arm and stopped his horse.

  His two companions reined in their own horses to either side of the gray and stared at the seemingly impenetrable mass of trees and brush before them.

  ‘What’s wrong, son?’ asked the sheriff.

  Iron Eyes’ head turned, he looked at the older man. There was no expression on the face that looked as if it were carved from stone. He reached out and touched the mouth of the lawman and then threw his right leg over the neck of the dapple-gray and slid silently to the ground.

  Hardin glanced at Tucker and both men dismounted as quietly as they could. They knew that the tall hunter had either seen or heard something that they were not skilled enough to spot.

  Iron Eyes tied his reins tightly to a tree-branch and indicated to the two men to copy him.

  They did.

  ‘When the shooting starts, I don’t want our horses to hightail it out of here,’ the bounty hunter said in a low voice. ‘We’re a long way from the nearest livery stable and I ain’t gonna walk far on this leg.’

  Black Ben moved to the side of the limping Iron Eyes.

  ‘What have you seen?’

  Iron Eyes touched the side of his nose. His nostrils were flared. ‘I ain’t seen nothing. But I can sure smell something.’

  ‘Smell what?’

  ‘Horses. Maybe a dozen of the critters.’ Iron Eyes began limping through the tall grass; even handicapped by his injured leg, he still managed to walk without any sound.

  Sheriff Hardin and Black Ben Tucker followed the man in the long trail-coat through the brush, which was taller than any of them. They could hear the sound of loose bullets rolling around against each other inside the deep pockets.

  ‘Where we headed?’ Hardin asked quietly.

  Iron Eyes did not reply.

  ‘What’s that strange noise, Iron Eyes?’ Black Ben asked as the sound of water crashing into a lake filled the air all around them.

  ‘Waterfall,’ Iron Eyes said bluntly.

  He had no idea where his nose was leading them but knew that the bandits’ horses were somewhere up ahead of them. The question was, were their masters also there? If they were, would they be expecting anyone to be tracking them? So many questions ran through the mind of the bounty
hunter. None of them had any answer.

  The three men walked for a quarter of a mile with the sound of the waterfall getting louder with every stride. Suddenly, Iron Eyes stopped walking and the two men almost bumped into his back.

  ‘Look!’

  Black Ben rubbed his chin and stared at the clearing. The sight of the wagon and its team of four horses still in their traces made him reach for his guns.

  Iron Eyes moved silently to their left, and pulled a leafy branch aside and held it down for his two followers to look at the six tethered horses a mere ten feet from the wagon.

  ‘They must be damn close, Iron Eyes,’ Black Ben said, raising his guns as if expecting to have the bandits jump out at them from a secret hiding-place at any time.

  The bounty hunter allowed the branch to return to its place and then stared down at the pair of pistols in the hands of the train robber.

  ‘Holster them irons, Black Ben,’ he ordered.

  ‘But them hombres must be close,’ Tucker said nervously. His eyes flashed at every leaf that surrounded them.

  ‘They ain’t here.’ Iron Eyes limped past the horses with his two skittish followers on his heels.

  ‘They must be. They couldn’t have gotten out of here without their horses, son,’ the sheriff commented.

  Iron Eyes continued through the dense undergrowth. It seemed that he did not feel the cruel thorns that ripped at his flesh as he forced a path where none had existed before.

  Iron Eyes stood on the very edge of the sheer drop and stared coldly at the waterfall and the lake below them.

  ‘They’re down there!’

  Chapter Twenty

  Rosie Smith had wondered what the bowels of hell must be really like a thousand times over the years of being taken to church every Sunday morning. She had listened to the minister rant and rave from his pulpit and noticed more than most that he hammered his fist down on to the pages of the Good Book at the end of the every warning.

  She had long since lost faith in his words and had used those services to drift into her own black world where there was no color to distract her. Long ago she had realized that the minister did not preach about loving God but used his position to make people fear the Almighty.

  It appeared that everything was bathed in sin. Yet she had no knowledge of what sin actually was. For her entire short life she had wondered about that.

  What was sin?

  As Malverez had turned her over to face him and the stench of his breath almost made her vomit, she suddenly began to realize the true meaning of the word.

  The bandit leader had peeled the drape from her and used it to cover them both. The razor-sharp blade of his stiletto had touched her throat and she had taken this as a warning not to open her mouth and make a sound.

  The roughness of his whiskers as they scraped the flesh of her soft neck filled her with fear. She had prayed to be given the gift of sight during the night in order that she might be able to escape but now as his lips sucked at her skin, she was thankful that she could not see the monster who held her tightly.

  The knife blade had cut the bodice of her dress-top and he had scooped her firm breasts in his greasy hands. He sucked her nipples until they became erect and then grunted like an animal beneath the cover of the velvet drape.

  Rosie shuddered with his every movement. Was this the sin that the minister had been so obsessed with for so many years? If so, then it was none of her doing.

  Yet would the good churchgoing people of Cripple Creek take that into consideration when branding her with the deeds of this creature?

  It seemed that there was no part of her body that the man’s lips, tongue and teeth did not want to explore. She could feel the pain of the bruises his powerful hands were creating as they forced her to remain exactly where he wanted her. She did not need sight to know that the top of her dress had been removed. Her ears had heard the tearing and her skin felt the cold air tracing over it.

  She was half naked.

  Was this a sin?

  Even the knowledge of the deadly knife no longer gave her cause to be fearful as she squirmed, trying desperately to get away from the man who was all over her. But there was no escaping his hands and mouth. Malverez had done this many times to many other captive females and she had never even been kissed before.

  Then she felt one of his hands beneath the curve of her spine as he lifted her off the ground. His fingers grabbed at her knee and moved along her thigh at a speed that she had never thought possible. A sensation raced through her but she could not understand why.

  Was this excitement?

  She tried to force him away but his strength seemed to have no limits. She was totally under his control.

  Suddenly Rosie gasped. His fingers were crawling inside her undergarments like worms. She began to realize what his ultimate goal must be.

  Only the sharp tip of the knife at her throat prevented her from screaming out.

  The three men stared down into the lake and the white spray that rose from the water that crashed continuously from the hundred-foot-high cliff. Shafts of light arched like a splintered rainbow over the humid scene. This was not a place in which any of them felt at ease. A massive tree-trunk was balanced over the precipice at the top of the falls. Iron Eyes studied it carefully with interest. Its branches were full of well-nourished leaves and that told the experienced hunter that the roots of the fallen tree must still be buried deep into the ground anchoring it high above the steep drop.

  From where the three men stood it was a perilous journey down to the foot of the waterfall. Iron Eyes knew that there had to be another trail, otherwise the men could not have managed to get Rosie Smith or themselves down there. And he knew that they were down there, he could smell the stench of their crawling hides filling his nostrils.

  The bounty hunter knew that she was there too. Even after so many hours, her perfume still lingered on the air for one capable of sensing it.

  ‘Are you sure that they’re down there?’ Black Ben asked as he felt the hairs beneath his black bandanna rise.

  ‘Yep. They’re all down there OK.’ Iron Eyes pointed a bony finger. ‘I figure they must be behind that waterfall.’

  ‘Impossible!’ Hardin heard himself say.

  ‘There’s a cave there,’ Iron Eyes insisted. ‘Look at the way the sunlight is reflecting off that water. There has to be a cave there.’

  Tucker moved to the side of the taller man and swallowed hard as he looked down at the drop. ‘There ain’t no way of even getting down there from here. They must be holed up around here someplace.’

  ‘I sure can’t see no trail leading down there, Iron Eyes,’ Tom Hardin added.

  ‘There is one and I’ll find it with or without you.’ Iron Eyes pulled out a cigar from inside one of his deep jacket pockets and placed it between his teeth. He struck a match with his thumbnail, cupped the flame to the tip of his cigar and inhaled.

  Black Ben stared at the face of the tall man. Its pale chiseled features showed the strain that the last twenty-four hours had racked on the pitifully lean frame.

  ‘I ain’t hankering to break my neck trying to get down there, Iron Eyes.’

  ‘Then stay here like a couple of old women. I’m headin’ on down.’ The bounty hunter moved to his left and forced his way through the brush. Nervously, the two other men followed him even though they were less than a couple of feet from the edge of the sheer drop.

  After twenty yards Iron Eyes stopped and stared at the ground at his feet. He pointed and his two companions bent over to study the tracks he had just discovered.

  ‘Boot-prints,’ Tucker gasped.

  ‘Boot-prints heading toward the edge of the cliff.’ Hardin sighed heavily.

  Iron Eyes looked at Tucker.

  ‘Go and get me a saddle rope off one of them horses back there, Black Ben.’

  The train-robber raised an eyebrow. ‘Saddle rope?’

  ‘Yep!’ Iron Eyes watched as the handsome outlaw obedie
ntly turned and headed off through the undergrowth towards the horses that they had passed a score of yards behind them.

  Sheriff Hardin knew that he had now to come clean with the obviously weary bounty hunter. He had to tell him the truth. ‘This is gonna be tough for me to say, son. But I’ve got to tell you before you

  Iron Eyes looked down at the sweating face before him and moved to the man’s side. ‘You got a secret?’

  ‘It’s about Rosie,’ Hardin mumbled.

  ‘She’s blind,’ Iron Eyes announced. He turned his head to look at Black Ben returning with the long coiled cutting rope over his shoulder.

  The lawman gulped. ‘You knew?’

  ‘Yeah, I knew.’ Iron Eyes’ voice faded into silence.

  Black Ben Tucker reached the two men and handed the rope to Iron Eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong, Black Ben.’ Iron Eyes began to unwind the rope as he walked in the tracks of the bandits. ‘Hardin seemed to think that I’d not figure out that only a blind girl could look me in the face. I knew she couldn’t see with them beautiful eyes of hers. Maybe I just liked the idea that I was wrong.’

  ‘To rescue a blind girl might prove a tad difficult,’ Tucker observed.

  ‘She’s worth it,’ Iron Eyes said over his shoulder.

  The sheriff and the train-robber followed the tall figure through the dense brush towards the very top of the high waterfall. Without any hint of fear for his own safety, Iron Eyes stepped to the edge of the cliff-top and stared at the narrow trail which wound its way down to the foot of the waterfall.

  ‘Why do you want the cutting rope, Iron Eyes?’ Tucker asked the injured man, who continued to unwind the long rope as he limped towards the fallen tree which jutted out a good twenty feet past the top of the waterfall.

  Iron Eyes made a lasso and tossed it over the largest of the stocky branches, then tightened it.

  ‘I got me an idea.’

  Neither man liked the sound of Iron Eyes’ reply. It hinted at his doing something that bordered on the suicidal.

  ‘Hold on there, son,’ the sheriff said, moving to the hunter’s side. ‘What you figurin’ on doing?’