by Rory Black
His keen ears listened until he saw the body of one of the troopers who had been manning the parapet behind him fall limply to the ground in front of the open doorway.
Iron Eyes rushed to the crumpled body, leaned over and touched the blood-soaked neck. There was no sign of any pulse. Iron Eyes looked at the gruesome bullet wound in the side of the trooper’s skull. He then rose up to his full height. His gaze darted around the parapets. At least half the troopers were either dead or wounded.
Captain Sherwood was still battling alongside his men as they continued to fire their single-shot rifles down at Fontaine’s riders outside the walls.
Iron Eyes glanced to his right. It had only been a matter of minutes since the gates had been drowned in an ocean of flames, yet they were already disintegrating. Sparks floated on the warm night air and landed on the shingle rooftops of the way station buildings. The fire had already spread to the tinder-dry stables.
Scores of terrified horses trapped within whinnied as they struggled to escape the smoke and fire which now was taking hold in the rafters and walls.
Iron Eyes was about to move to the closest trough and attempt to douse the flames with water when he heard a strange cracking sound. He spun on his heels and stared at the flaming gates. Even thirty feet away from the inferno, he could feel the incredible heat burning his scarred features. He dropped his gun into his deep pocket, grabbed a bucket and dipped it into the trough. Then he saw one half of the gate buckle on its hinges and fall. A cloud of smoke and red-hot cinders erupted and drifted into the heart of the courtyard.
‘This ain’t good!’ he told himself.
Fontaine and his men did not wait for the fire to consume the gates entirely before they ducked and drove their mounts through the pile of burning embers. A million fiery splinters sent a tidal wave of smouldering sparks across the courtyard and up into the black sky as the riders finally breached the way station’s defences.
The horsemen charged. Fontaine led what was left of his henchmen. Blinded by the ferocious flames and blistering heat, they all kept their heads low until they were certain they had ridden beyond the gates.
Iron Eyes watched as at least twenty riders rode straight at him. The bounty hunter could see the whites of the galloping horses’ eyes as they pelted towards him.
Iron Eyes dropped the bucket and threw himself through the corral poles. He landed heavily as a few of the horses crashed into the fencing. Long poles were smashed from their uprights and crashed down over the bounty hunter. He scrambled away through the dust when the shooting started again.
Sherwood was getting his troopers to shoot down at their uninvited intruders from the parapets whilst Fontaine and his henchmen returned fire.
Gunsmoke mixed with the clouds of dust and black smoke that filled the entire courtyard.
Iron Eyes plucked one of his Navy Colts from his pocket and blasted at the nearest of the riders. He had fanned the gun’s hammer six times, and watched as three of the riders fell from their mounts and landed in the dust. He dropped the gun into his coat-pocket again and staggered toward Carmichael’s armoured coach. He dropped to the ground and crawled beneath it. The sound of bullets ricocheting off the coachwork rang in the bounty hunter’s ears.
Then his attention was drawn back to the burning stables and the pitiful sound of the horses trapped inside it. Iron Eyes knew that stampeding horses in a confined space could cause a lot of trouble. If he managed to stay out of their way and the troopers remained up high on the walls, the only people who would be faced by that trouble were Fontaine and his ruthless riders.
The bounty hunter pushed himself up and raced to the stable doors. He lifted the pole which secured them off its metal cradles and cast it aside.
Iron Eyes was knocked off his feet as the doors were violently charged open by the alarmed animals. He blinked hard and then saw the horses stampeding out of the smoke-filled stables straight at him.
He rolled out of the way just in time. Countless hoofs pounded the ground and smashed into the heavily armoured coach, sending it over on to its side.
The horses continued onwards. Survival instinct guided the wide-eyed creatures now. They had to escape the choking smoke and deadly flames.
Iron Eyes watched the small herd gallop through the fence-poles and into the midst of the mounted riders. It was mayhem. Horsemen fell as their horses were knocked down. Screams filled the area as they were crushed under hoofs. Dust and smoke hid the sight of the carnage from the bounty hunter’s keen eyes. But he could hear it all.
The sound of firing continued to ring out from all directions. It was the only thing which let him know that not all the horsemen within the way station were dead yet.
Fiery debris fell down from the stable’s roof and landed all around the lean figure. Iron Eyes glanced up. He then realized that the fire was spreading far more quickly than he had thought possible. Now flames leapt the distance between the stable and the main building’s roof which was now also alight.
Iron Eyes shook all the spent shells from his guns and reloaded swiftly. As he pushed the bullets into the empty chambers he tried to work out his next move.
Even through the dense dust he could see that some of the riders had managed to reach the front of the building where he had left Carmichael and Florence.
He knew he had to act fast.
Smoke and dust swirled around the area like a choking fog. It blinded him to the truth. The truth of how many of their attackers were still capable of killing.
Iron Eyes took three steps forward and caught a glimpse of the one man he recognized. Even though they were smothered in coloured grease, the features of Fontaine had been branded in the mind of the bounty hunter.
It was a face he could never forget.
Fontaine and a handful of his henchmen had thundered through the chaos and smoke beyond the fence-poles. They were still exchanging shots with the troopers outside the main building.
Iron Eyes leapt into action. He sped to where he had left Carmichael and his daughter. With every step he fired his guns through the dust and smoke at the riders.
He could not tell how many of his bullets had found their targets but it did not matter.
There was only one of the vicious horsemen that he really wanted to kill. The leader of the murderous riders was his only real prey. Iron Eyes knew that once Fontaine was dead, the rest of them would be like rattlers with their heads cut off.
He had to destroy Fontaine!
He also had to try and somehow get Carmichael and his daughter out of the building which was now on fire!
Bullets suddenly stopped his advance as they tore through the air and shattered the wooden wall beside him. A million splinters showered over Iron Eyes. There was no way he could reach the front of the building. The gunmen were already there and they were fending off all attempts to dislodge them.
Iron Eyes could see Fontaine and the riders dismounting. They raced into the building, still shooting their rifles and handguns at the soldiers high above them.
The angry bounty hunter knew he would have to find another way into the building if he were to save Carmichael and Florence. He dropped both guns into his deep coat-pockets and then started to climb up the side wall of the large building. There was an open window on the wall, about twenty feet above the ground.
If he could get inside, that would be the only way.
Flames were now dancing over a third of the tarred roof-shingles and molten fire dripped like rain over him. Yet even with the shoulders of his coat smouldering, Iron Eyes kept climbing.
With the dexterity of a desert lizard, Iron Eyes ascended the wall quickly. He reached the open window, dragged himself through it and dropped to the floor on the landing. Smoke was now billowing down from the rafters and filling the air with its choking stench. He raised himself up on to his feet again and screwed up his eyes.
It was almost impossible to see anything.
He carefully edged his way forward until he fe
lt a wooden rail stop his progress.
The air was clearer down in the heart of the large room below him. He could see six of the heavily disguised men gathered around the door. They were firing their weaponry with a ferocity which had not abated even though they had lost so many of their cohorts.
The ceiling above his head started to blacken and then glow as the fire ate its way through the wood. A strange red light illuminated the high landing.
Silent, Iron Eyes remained above them. He reloaded his guns again from the loose bullets in his coat pockets. When both Navy Colts were ready he cocked their hammers.
‘Fontaine!’ he shouted out.
All six men turned and stared up at the awesome apparition.
Riley was still nursing the wound in his shoulder when he gasped:
‘Iron Eyes!’
Fontaine jumped up with his Winchester in his hands. Smoke trailed from its hot barrel.
‘What the hell is he doin’ here?’ he snarled as the rest of the men rose to their feet.
Iron Eyes had heard every word.
‘I’m here to kill ya all!’ he replied. ‘Say ya prayers!’
‘Kill him!’ Fontaine screamed out. ‘Kill the bastard!’
Every weapon was raised. Every trigger squeezed. A volley of bullets spewed from the barrels.
Like a defiant statue, Iron Eyes did not move an inch from the rail. As bullets tore past him he fired both his guns and watched as, one after another, the men fell dead around the raging Fontaine.
Only when Iron Eyes had destroyed each of the remaining hired guns did he train his guns on their leader and start down the wooden steps.
Fontaine felt the trigger of his rifle slacken as his index finger milked it. The rifle was empty.
He threw it to the floor.
‘I’m unarmed, Iron Eyes! It’s over! Ya can’t shoot an unarmed man, can ya?’
Iron Eyes walked slowly toward him with no expression on his hideous face. His unblinking eyes stared through the half-light at the sweating man.
He stopped ten feet from Fontaine. His thumbs pulled the gun hammers back again.
‘I just recalled that ya got bounty on ya head, Fontaine! I seen ya poster back in Dodge a few years back. Dead or alive!’
‘I give up! Ya got me! I don’t know how, but ya won!’ the sweating man stammered. ‘Ya can’t kill an unarmed man! Ya won! Don’t ya understand? Ya won!’
‘Not yet, I ain’t,’ Iron Eyes drawled slowly. Then he squeezed both his triggers. Two bullets tore through the man’s guts. He watched as Fontaine was lifted off his feet and thrown through the open doorway. He crashed on to the boardwalk outside the building. ‘Now I’ve won!’
Fire dripped down from the ceiling above the bounty hunter as he pushed both guns into his belt. He walked into the dark corridor to where he had left Carmichael and the beautiful young woman.
He tapped the door with his bony knuckles.
‘It’s over!’ he said.
FINALE
Herbert Carmichael was true to his word. He ensured that Iron Eyes was paid every cent he was owed of the reward money on the heads of all the hired gunmen the bounty hunter had killed during the previous day. The territorial secretary had used some the thousands of golden fifty-dollar pieces which were in Brewster Fontaine’s own bank vault to pay Iron Eyes shortly after the diminished band of troopers and the armoured coach had eventually arrived at the town of Hope with their skeletal saviour.
They were a welcome sight to the residents of the remote settlement and confirmation that after so many years, they were rid of the deadly men who had ruled over them.
Captain Bob Sherwood could hardly believe that he had lost so many of his troopers in such a short period of time. Only eight of his men had survived unscathed. The rest were tied over their cavalry saddles, waiting for the undertaker to lay them to rest.
The cavalry officer could also not fathom how the long-haired bounty hunter somehow managed to get the better of so many lethal foes. He had learned a lot when he had been at West Point, but it paled into insignificance compared with what he had been taught by Iron Eyes.
Sherwood walked from his battered and bruised men to the bank as Carmichael and his daughter watched Iron Eyes place two swollen canvas sacks in each of his saddle-bag satchels on the back of his grey mount.
‘That’s a tidy sum you earned there, Iron Eyes!’ he said as the bounty hunter stepped into his stirrup and hoisted himself up on to his saddle. ‘But you certainly earned every penny of it! I cannot express my gratitude enough for the way you looked after my dear Florence and myself. Thank you, Iron Eyes!’
Iron Eyes looked through his limp wisps of hair down at the two people as Sherwood joined them. He nodded silently and gave the beautiful woman a last look.
‘Thank you, Iron Eyes!’ Florence somehow managed to say. ‘I shall never forget you.’
Iron Eyes gathered up his reins and turned the horse away from the hitching rail.
‘I ain’t gonna forget you either, ma’am!’ he said.
‘Where ya headed, Iron Eyes?’ Sherwood asked as the grey walked towards him.
‘Ain’t figured that out yet, Captain,’ the bounty hunter replied in a low, soft tone. His small bullet-coloured eyes were staring towards the edge of the town where the shacks were. The place where he had been able to find refuge from Fontaine’s men whilst he recovered from his inuries. ‘Got me a call to make first, then I’m headin’ to Texas!’
‘Why Texas?’ Carmichael enquired.
Iron Eyes glanced at the large man. A hint of a smile etched his face. ‘They got a whole lotta wanted men in Texas! Always good killin’ to be had in Texas!’
The three figures watched the bounty hunter jab his spurs into the flesh of the grey. The horse responded and started to canter down the long street before Iron Eyes turned the animal and headed up behind the buildings to where the less wealthy townspeople lived.
Iron Eyes reined in and stared at the shack. Smoke still curled from its small chimney stack. The ill-fitting door opened and the small elderly female tried to see with eyes which no longer worked.
‘Who is that? Speak up, boy?’ Bessie Cooper said.
‘Iron Eyes, Bessie!’ the bounty hunter said.
‘So ya still alive, huh?’ She chuckled.
‘Fontaine ain’t, ma’am!’ Iron Eyes informed her.
A smile traced across her face. Again, Iron Eyes could see the beauty she had once been. Age could not hide real beauty from eyes which saw far more than most.
‘Ya killed him?’
‘Yep!’
‘Good!’ The woman rested her hand on the door to aid her balance. ‘Teddy’s sleepin’ on the bed. He only finished work a few hours back.’
‘Don’t wake him, Bessie.’ Iron Eyes dismounted and opened the leather flap of the saddle-bag nearer to the shack. He hauled one of the hefty canvas sacks out of the satchel and carried it into the shack. He placed it down on the table. The legs of the table groaned under the weight.
‘What ya got there, boy?’ Bessie asked as she made her way to the tall man’s side.
‘Golden eagles, Bessie!’ Iron Eyes whispered as he watched Ted snoring on the bed. ‘A whole bunch of them.’
She did not understand.
‘I ain’t sure why ya brung that in here, boy.’
Iron Eyes walked back to the door. She held on to his arm and stopped his progress to his waiting mount. He turned and looked down at her. The white film which covered her pupils saddened him. Yet she appeared to see him better than most people who were unable to look beyond his brutal scars.
‘Bounty money, Bessie! It’s half what I earned for killin’ that bunch of vermin! All legal! Ya can buy yaself a better house and have plenty of money left over for you and Ted to have a nice life!’
‘But why ya givin’ it to us, boy?’ she asked. ‘It was you who done for Fontaine and his cronies, not us!’
Iron Eyes inhaled.
‘Without yo
u and Ted, I reckon I’d not have bin able to go after them critters at all, let alone get the better of them! The money’s yours. Ya earned it!’
Bessie was about to speak when he leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek. Her misty eyes could just make out the blurred image of the tall bounty hunter as he stepped into his stirrup and mounted the grey once more.
‘Take care, boy!’ she ordered waving her finger at him.
‘I’ll surely try, Bessie!’ Iron Eyes nodded.
‘Ya a good man, Iron Eyes!’ she said as a tear trailed down her cheek. ‘A darn good man!’
He spurred and rode off between the shacks.
Ted Cooper opened his eyes and looked through the open doorway to his mother.
‘Who was that, Ma?’ He yawned.
‘Iron Eyes!’ she sighed. ‘That was our dear friend Iron Eyes, Teddy!’
The Scalp of Iron Eyes
Rory Black
ROBERT HALE
Dedicated with love to Gary and Karen George
PROLOGUE
Squirrel Sally Cooke was a girl on a mission and that mission was to sink her talons on the man she sought. For the umpteenth time, Iron Eyes had disappeared after renting a hotel room for them both and then abandoned her there as he chased after fresh wanted outlaws. Once again, the bounty hunter had set out to claim the blood money on their heads and forgotten to mention it to his female companion.
Yet Sally was like a seasoned blood hound. She was not easily put off the scent. She had tracked the emaciated man for more than sixty miles across country atop the ramshackle stagecoach she had purchased a year earlier.
The six-horse team pulled the embattled stagecoach along the mountain trail as the feisty female cracked her bullwhip above their heads. The powerful black horses had worked hard to pull the hefty vehicle up the steep, twisting trail road for nearly thirty minutes before the expert hands of Squirrel Sally steered them over the precarious ridge and down the other side of the mountain.
