by Rory Black
Iron Eyes lowered his head and glared through his bullet coloured eyes. The emaciated figure rested his shoulder against the corner of the cantina.
‘I wonder who they are?’ he hissed like a viper, ready to strike out at the horsemen if they got too close.
He stared out into the eerie moonlight. His eyes tightened in their sockets until they blazed. Both men were well-armed, he noted. These were not like anyone else he had encountered since travelling south of the border.
Whoever they were, they sure looked ready for trouble.
The pair of horsemen could be seen clearly in the bright moonlight as they steadily approached the coastal fishing village. They were unlike the villagers he had seen in and around the cantina.
‘Vaqueros,’ Iron Eyes spat and then returned the cigar to his mouth before filling his lungs with the smoke that fuelled him. ‘That’s the last thing I need. Stinking vaqueros paid to kill anyone who upsets their boss.’
Iron Eyes concentrated on the riders. He had had trouble with vaqueros a few times before and still bore the scars to prove it. The last thing the bounty hunter needed right now was locking antlers with their breed again.
Both riders wore wide-brimmed sombreros and sat astride tall handsome horses. Moonlight glanced across their weaponry and dazzled the eyes of their observer.
‘They sure ain’t peasants.’ Iron Eyes snorted.
The horsemen drew closer.
As Iron Eyes watched them reduce the distance between themselves and the array of small adobes, his thumb pulled back on the hammer of the gun at his side until it locked into position. Then another idea struck the emaciated bounty hunter as he pondered who or what the riders might be. Could they be some of the blood-thirsty Mexican bandits who roamed freely across the border? If they were they might be here to put pay to the notorious hunter of wanted men.
News of Iron Eyes on the trail of the wanted outlaws had travelled fast, he thought. He wondered if they were the highly paid vaqueros who blindly obeyed their masters or the equally lethal bandits.
Neither theory sat well with Iron Eyes.
All he wanted to do was get his hands on Bodine and Walters and drag them back across the border. He had no stomach for wasting lead on fancy vaqueros or avenging bandits who had decided to kill the legendary bounty hunter.
Iron Eyes sucked the last smoke from his cigar and then spat it at the sand. His boot heel crushed the cigar as his eyes watched the horsemen getting closer with every beat of his heart.
His eyes burned through the limp strands of his hair as he watched the pair of horsemen slow their mounts to a canter. If he had to kill them, that was what he would do. Anyone who tried to kill Iron Eyes had already signed his own death sentence. Part of him was already dead. He knew that death already had one hand on his shoulder and one day would claim the rest of his emaciated carcass but until then he had no doubt that he would always get the better of those who challenged him.
For a man racked by the pain of countless ancient wounds, the thought of one day dying held no fear. For years Iron Eyes had hidden his pain from others with an abundant supply of strong cigars and the even stronger rot-gut whiskey. His senses were dulled to everything apart from the instinct to kill.
Iron Eyes grunted with amusement as the riders entered the small village and headed straight at him.
He eased his tall frame away from the wall and walked from the shadows and stood squarely in the middle of the sandy trail road and awaited them.
The horsemen rode through the eerie moonlight toward him.
Not a muscle in his body moved.
‘Keep on coming, boys,’ he snarled as his finger stroked the trigger of his weapon. ‘If you’re looking for a fight, you came to the right place.’
CHAPTER NINE
Pablo Fernandez had become aware that his prized stallion was nervous long before his eyes caught sight of the eerie figure that stood defiantly in the middle of the sandy street. The son of the noble Don Jose watched as Iron Eyes waited fifty yards from where he and his obedient vaquero sat astride their lathered up mounts.
Pablo pulled back on his reins and stopped his tall horse abruptly. His hireling eased back on his own leathers and stared through the eerie light at the gruesome sight that faced them.
‘I think we have located our prey, Luis,’ Pablo said as he steadied his nervous mount.
‘What kind of devil is that, Pablo?’ the vaquero asked as he watched the death defying bounty hunter.
‘I have only heard stories about him, Luis,’ Pablo admitted as he pulled an ornate silver cigar case from his breast pocket and opened it. ‘The stories do not do Iron Eyes justice.’
Both men watched the haunting figure turn sideways so that his gaunt frame made an even narrower target. Pablo pulled a cigar from the case and tapped it on the silver lid. His eyes never left the horrific sight before them as he placed the long smoke between his lips and slid the case back into his pocket.
‘I do not think this is going to be as easy as I thought, Luis,’ he said. ‘He does not look in the mood to either talk or listen, amigo.’
‘So that is Iron Eyes?’ Luis mumbled as he gripped his reins firmly in his gloved hands. ‘He looks like no man I have ever set eyes upon before, amigo.’
There was no arguing with that fact. Iron Eyes resembled a corpse that had just clawed its way out of a grave more than he did a living man. But the bounty hunter was real enough and he was standing directly before them. Few creatures of any kind could chill the blood of those who gazed upon his deathly appearance but Iron Eyes had mastered that long ago.
Without taking his eyes off the devilish bounty hunter for even a heartbeat, Pablo struck a match, cupped its flame and raised it to the cigar between his lips. He sucked the flame into the cigar and brooded upon the man that Don Jose had sent them to bring back to the hacienda. Then he exhaled. Smoke billowed from his mouth and extinguished the match.
‘You are right, old friend,’ he agreed. ‘He is nothing like other men. Maybe some of those stories about him are true. Maybe he is dead like they say.’
The shocked vaquero glanced at Pablo.
‘Dead?’ he repeated. ‘You say that we are risking our necks against a dead man? You might not have thought about this but facing a dead man is loco. We cannot kill something that no longer lives but he could kill us.’
‘That is just the legend, amigo,’ Pablo replied through a cloud of smoke. ‘The Indians say he is a living ghost. A man who must be feared because he cannot die like all other creatures. Such things are fairy tales.’
‘He looks dead, though,’ Luis gulped.
‘I agree.’ Pablo frowned. ‘He certainly looks dead.’
Sweat trailed down from the dust-laden sombrero of the hired gunman as he listened to the unsettling words. He looked at the haunting figure ahead of them and then returned his eyes to his smoking companion.
‘That is impossible, Pablo,’ Luis nervously ventured as his eyes strained to see even a hint of humanity in the deathly form of Iron Eyes. ‘Men are either dead or they are alive. They cannot be both, can they?’
Before Fernandez could answer, he noticed that the infamous bounty hunter was raising his free hand. He watched as long thin fingers pushed the limp strands of dark hair from his face.
The sight of his maimed features caught the unforgiving moonlight as Iron Eyes stared across the distance at them. The spawn of Satan was watching them.
‘Santa Maria,’ Luis gasped.
The cigar hung from Pablo’s trembling lips for a few moments before he plucked it from his mouth and glanced at his terrified companion.
‘I think it is time for us to announce ourselves to Iron Eyes, amigo,’ he stammered before placing his hand on the crest of his saddle horn and slowly dismounting.
‘I think this man will not like what you have to say, Pablo.’ Luis sighed as he threw his leg over his cantle and dropped to the ground. He gripped the reins of his skittish mount and moved closer to the younger
man. ‘He looks very angry now and he does not even know that we have already taken his woman. I think the news will upset him.’
Thoughtfully, Fernandez gripped the bridle of his nervous mount. He wondered if the infamous gringo might start shooting before he had time to explain the facts.
‘You might be correct, amigo.’ Pablo straightened up and tossed his reins to his hireling. ‘Guard the horses. I think that they might turn and run away from here if the shooting starts.’
Luis took the reins and sucked in his lower lip. ‘They will not be alone if they run away, Pablo.’
Fernandez defied his own fear and began to walk slowly toward the brooding bounty hunter. Every step was watched by the unblinking eyes of Iron Eyes.
As the handsome Mexican approached, Pablo felt his fear growing inside him. To walk toward Iron Eyes was like walking toward your own grave. He stared at the bounty hunter’s blazing eyes as they burned into him. Even the moonlight could not dampen their fury.
Pablo stopped.
Both men were now only twenty feet apart. Dust floated around the spurs of the Mexican as he tried to collect his thoughts. Iron Eyes was coiled and ready to strike and the younger man knew it. Then Fernandez made a mistake. He innocently raised his hand to his jacket pocket to retrieve a letter his father had written.
The move was too sudden and too fast.
Thinking that he was facing an arrogant unknown bandit, the gaunt figure reacted in the only fashion he knew.
Like quicksilver, Iron Eyes swung on his heels and raised the Navy Colt. His bony finger pulled back on his weapons trigger.
A flash of blinding flame exploded from the seven inch long barrel and tore through the moonlight. At the same moment a deafening sound rocked the fishing village like a thunderclap.
The narrowed eyes of the bounty hunter waited for the gun smoke to disperse as his bony thumb pulled back his gun hammer until it locked into position once more.
CHAPTER TEN
Believing that Fernandez was attempting to draw down on him, Iron Eyes had raised and blasted his gun in the time it normally takes for a normal person to spit. But the only spitting came from the long barrel of the Navy Colt. A twisting, blinding flash had erupted from the gun in the skeletal hand and sent lead at the young Mexican.
Somehow the bullet had not hit Pablo as it hit the wide brim of the Mexican’s sombrero.
The drawstring under Pablo’s chin had snapped as his sombrero was ripped from his head by the sudden and violent impact of the shot. Pablo stood staring at the deadly bounty hunter as a trickle of blood trailed down his face from his well-oiled hair. He was shaking as the smoke cleared before his unblinking eyes.
He steadied himself and looked across at the uncanny figure before him. Smoke trailed from the barrel of the gun in Iron Eyes’s claw-like hand. Then he noticed that the gun was trained at his chest.
‘Are you OK?’ Luis called out from behind him as the vaquero fought to keep both their terrified horses under control.
Slowly Pablo raised a hand and signalled to his muscular friend. ‘Do not do anything, Luis. Señor Iron Eyes is too good a shot for the likes of us.’
Iron Eyes stared with gritted teeth at the startled Mexican. ‘Who are you varmints?’
Pablo Fernandez licked his dry lips. ‘We are just messengers, señor.’
The bounty hunter kept the six-shooter aimed at the young Mexican and forced a twisted smile. He remained totally still.
‘You did not kill me,’ Pablo said fearfully as he looked at the Navy Colt. ‘But I think that you still might.’
Iron Eyes rose to his full height but kept the smoking weapon trained on Fernandez. The mutilated face looked out from behind the veil of hair.
‘Yes, I still might kill you,’ he drawled. ‘If I figure you need killing then I’ll oblige. Do you need killing, sonny? Are you wanted with a price on your head? Who the hell are you?’
‘My name is Pablo Fernandez, señor,’ the younger man managed to say as he made sure his gun hand remained well away from his holstered pistol. His fingers found the graze across his scalp. He stared at the blood on his fingertips and gulped.
Iron Eyes did not move a muscle as his mind raced. He stared intently at Fernandez as he recalled hearing the name before. He then marched up to the bleeding Mexican and pointed his gun at him.
‘I’ve heard your name before, ain’t I?’ he rasped as his finger stroked the trigger of his Navy Colt. ‘Remind me where I’ve heard your name before, Pablo boy.’
Fernandez sucked in air and bit his lower lip.
‘My father is Don Jose Fernandez,’ he answered.
Iron Eyes chewed on the name. ‘Didn’t that varmint send a couple of his vaqueros across the border a while back?’
‘Sí, señor.’ Pablo nodded. ‘We need to hire your services on a vital matter.’
‘I ain’t no hired gun, boy.’ Iron Eyes released his gun hammer and pushed the still smoking barrel behind his buckle into his belt. ‘I’m a bounty hunter. I don’t hire out to folks who want to avenge their grievances.’
‘You explained this to my father’s men,’ Pablo reminded the deadly man. ‘You explained this very brutally.’
‘I don’t like vaqueros,’ the bounty hunter snarled. ‘They was lucky I didn’t kill them.’
‘This is most urgent, señor,’ Pablo pressed. ‘A matter of life and death. You must listen.’
‘I don’t hire out to fancy dudes like you, sonny.’ Iron Eyes turned and started back to the cantina when the words that left Pablo’s mouth stopped him in his tracks.
‘My father has detained Squirrel Sally, Iron Eyes,’ Pablo said. ‘He has your woman.’
Like a volcano ready to erupt into unimaginable fury, the tall bounty hunter looked over his shoulder at the bleeding Mexican. He slowly turned and glared at Pablo.
‘Your pappy has done what?’ he growled.
‘He has your woman, señor. He said that you would not listen to his request so he has become a little more aggressive.’
Iron Eyes lowered his head but kept his burning eyes on the terrified young man. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.
‘He’s got Squirrel?’ the bounty hunter hissed with venomous anger. ‘My Squirrel?’
Pablo nodded. ‘Sí, señor. He will kill her if you do not help him. My father is desperate and men who are desperate become very dangerous.’
‘I’m dangerous, sonny.’ Iron Eyes snorted. ‘Far more dangerous than your pappy imagines. If he harms one hair on that gal’s head, I’ll kill him and everyone he has ever cherished.’
Pablo backed away from the raging bounty hunter. He kept the palms of his hands raised and facing the notorious Iron Eyes. With each backward step he watched as Iron Eyes closed the distance between them.
‘Please, señor,’ Pablo pleaded. ‘We are just the messengers. All my father wants is that you come and hear why he wants to hire you. I am sure he will pay you for your time.’
Iron Eyes stopped.
‘Why the hell does he want me to help him?’ he shouted. ‘What kinda dirty job does your pappy think that only I can do? I don’t get it, boy. This country is full of scum-suckers who’ll hire out and do anything for a price. How come he wants me?’
Pablo lowered his head. ‘Because you are Iron Eyes, señor. Only you are brave enough to do what has to be done.’
Iron Eyes leapt at the Mexican. He grabbed Fernandez by the lapels and pulled him to him. Every fibre of his being wanted to kill both of the men but the bounty hunter knew that to do so was not going to free the perky Squirrel Sally.
‘I ain’t gonna kill you just yet, boy,’ he snarled into the face of the younger man before releasing his grip and pushing him toward the horses. ‘But if any of your clan harms that gal, you’ll all be dead. Savvy?’
Iron Eyes turned away from both the horsemen and started to stride toward the cantina. Pablo rubbed his neck and then called out at the wide back of the bounty hunter.
&
nbsp; ‘Where are you going, Señor Iron Eyes?’
‘To get my horse,’ Iron Eyes growled without turning as he rounded the corner of the well-illuminated building. ‘Then you’re gonna take me to meet your pappy.’
Pablo nodded and pulled the letter from his pocket. ‘You must read my father’s note.’
A few moments after the scrawny figure had vanished behind the whitewashed walls of the still rowdy cantina, Iron Eyes emerged into the moonlight. He jabbed his spurs into the flanks of the magnificent stallion and rode to the men.
He stopped the palomino beside the men and watched as Fernandez mounted his horse. Pablo reached out with the crumpled letter in his shaking hand but Iron Eyes did not accept it.
‘Your pappy can speak to me face to face, Fernandez,’ he hissed. ‘Besides, I only read Wanted posters.’
The three horsemen thundered into the moonlight.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Squirrel Sally could not understand what was going on. She had been offered fresh clothing, a bath and fed on the finest food. Don Jose had ushered her into a first floor room as he would have done to a valued guest. The feisty female could not understand what was happening but the rifle toting vaquero positioned outside her room made it clear that she was not a guest.
She was a prisoner.
No amount of fancy trimmings could alter that fact. She was being held in the hacienda against her will and no matter how charming everyone was to her, Sally felt sure that she would be shot if she dared to try and escape. She knew this was a trap to capture her beloved Iron Eyes and that she was the bait.
After hours of fretting, weariness finally overtook her best efforts to remain awake. She sank into the soft mattress and slept like she had never slept before. The perfumed bath water had relaxed her tiny body as its soothing scent filled her trail-tired mind.
A soothing carpet of tranquil dreams displaced the concerns that had dogged her since she had been dragged cursing into the magnificent edifice. Yet as Sally slept, the rest of the fortified hacienda awaited the arrival of the fearsome Iron Eyes.
