by Rory Black
‘I see which way they went, sonny,’ the lethal bounty hunter muttered before opening the flap of his saddle bags and pulling out a bottle of tequila. He gripped the cork with his teeth and extracted it. Then he slowly turned and moved closer to his mounted companion. Iron Eyes spat the cork at the sand and then lifted the bottle to his lips. When it was empty he tossed the empty vessel over his shoulder.
The young Mexican was baffled. No matter how hard he looked at the surrounding terrain, all he could see was an ocean of sand.
‘I do not understand,’ Pablo admitted. ‘There is nothing to see but sand and Joshua trees. What can you see?’
Iron Eyes scratched his jaw and watched the undergrowth.
‘It ain’t what you can see, boy,’ he said dryly as his piercing eyes glared out into the desolation. ‘It’s what you don’t see that’ll kill you.’
The confused Mexican was about to speak when Iron Eyes grabbed hold of his sleeve. As he hauled Pablo from his saddle, a shot rang out and a bullet caught the ornate horn of the youngster’s saddle. Leather exploded as the rifle bullet ripped the large horn off the neck of the saddle.
Pablo hit the sand hard as the bounty hunter crouched like a cougar, getting ready to leap at its prey. He lay on the sand as the bounty hunter drew one of his Navy Colts and pulled back on its hammer. He then stepped over Pablo and raised his arm and fired in one swift action.
With smoke still trailing from the long barrel of his weapon, Iron Eyes advanced in the direction that the rifle shot had come from. As he stared out into the sun-bleached distance, the Mexican scrambled to his feet and hobbled to the side of the eagle-eyed bounty hunter.
‘What is going on, Señor Iron Eyes?’ Pablo said as he pulled his own weapon from its hand-tooled holster.
Iron Eyes was silent. He raised the gun again and pulled back on its hammer. Whatever it was the infamous bounty hunter was looking at, it was totally invisible to the shaking Mexican.
‘I see nothing,’ Pablo proclaimed as he frantically looked to where the far taller Iron Eyes was aiming his Colt. ‘Who do you see?’
Again, Iron Eyes did not reply.
With cold determination he levelled the gun. His out-stretched arm remained perfectly still. Then without warning, he raised his free hand and pushed Pablo aside, just as a plume of rifle smoke appeared in the distance. Pablo heard the sound of the shot as he hit the ground.
The youngster got to his knees again and was about to protest being knocked off his feet when he noticed the tear in the bounty hunter’s sleeve. As he watched the statuesque figure still aiming his gun, he saw blood trailing from the ripped fabric. The bright crimson that dripped from his knuckles was in total contrast to the dust that covered the bounty hunter.
‘You are wounded, señor.’ Pablo gasped as he struggled to get up off his knees.
‘Stay down, Pablo,’ Iron Eyes said without looking at his companion. ‘I ain’t gonna save your bacon a third time. Stay there and hush the hell up. I’m concentrating.’
Pablo remained exactly where he was and watched the strange ghost-like creature who towered above him in startled awe. Iron Eyes held his gun at arm’s length as he fixed his attention on something out there beyond the kindling dry brush. The young Mexican had never seen anything like it before. There seemed to be no acknowledgement of his own wound in his maimed face. There was only a gritty determination to place his second bullet into the rifleman and, like all hunters, Iron Eyes was prepared to wait for as long as it took.
Iron Eyes stared across the arid terrain with unblinking eyes. He was like an eagle on a high thermal watching for the slightest hint as to where its next meal was hiding. For what seemed like an eternity, the motionless bounty hunter waited for the merest glimpse of his target.
Then he caught sight of movement behind a scattering of undergrowth. Faster than most men could spit, Iron Eyes stepped to his side and fired.
The desert resounded to the explosive noise of his gun hammer hitting the metal casing of the chambered bullet. A plume of smoke encircled the fiery flash that erupted from the gun barrel. At the exact same moment, Iron Eyes felt the heat of a rifle bullet as it passed within inches of his face.
A muffled groan came from out in the distance yet the echoing of gunfire drowned it out to all but Iron Eyes. He knew that he had claimed the life of the rifleman even if he could not actually see his handiwork.
‘That’ll teach the bastard it don’t pay to shoot at Iron Eyes,’ he mumbled. There was no sense of triumph in his voice.
Pablo watched as Iron Eyes slowly lowered his smoking Navy Colt and pulled the hot casing from its chamber. No sooner had the spent casing hit the sand than the tall bounty hunter replaced it with another fresh bullet from his deep coat pockets.
‘You have killed him, señor?’
‘Sure I did,’ Iron Eyes replied.
As the thunderous noise of the echoing gunshots faded into the dry desert air, Iron Eyes pushed the barrel of his weapon into his belt and looked down at Pablo.
‘What you doing down there, boy?’ he drawled as he started walking toward the place he had sent his deadly bullet. ‘You can get up now. He’s dead.’
Pablo Fernandez hurriedly got to his feet and ran after the long-legged bounty hunter. It was like a hound following its master. Although he was winded, Pablo still managed to chase his emotionless cohort.
‘Who is dead, Señor Iron Eyes?’ he asked as he drew level with the taller man. ‘Who was shooting at us?’
Iron Eyes stepped over some desert brambles and then kicked the rifle toward his companion. He said nothing as he stared down at the body of the Apache. Then he quickly knelt and grabbed hold of the long hair and pulled it clear of the dry brush. His eyes studied the face of the dead Indian and then dropped it.
‘Looks like one of Running Wolf’s boys,’ Iron Eyes said before straightening up to his full height. He glanced around and then spotted a white pony in a gulley. The lean animal looked as though it had never had a square meal but its decorated mane sported carefully woven coloured braid. ‘Go get that pony, sonny. It might come in useful.’
Pablo looked totally baffled. ‘I do not understand. Why was this Indian waiting here? Why did he shoot at us?’
Iron Eyes looked at Pablo. ‘Running Wolf told him to kill anyone who showed up, sonny. That’s why. Don’t ask me to figure out the thinking of Apaches. Hell, I ain’t managed to work out why white folks do what they do yet.’
Pablo holstered his gun and ran down the sandy slope to the tethered horse. He pulled its rope bridle and reins free of where it was secured and started to bring the sorrowful animal to where Iron Eyes stood waiting.
‘How can you be sure that this Apache is one of Running Wolf’s followers, Señor Iron Eyes?’ he asked as he reached the bleeding bounty hunter.
Iron Eyes gritted his teeth and then reached down and grabbed the dead Indian’s long hair again. He dragged the skinny corpse off the sand and twisted it around.
‘Look at his neck,’ he growled.
Pablo looked at a scar on the brave’s neck. It was a half-moon shaped scar. The young Mexican pulled back as he focused not only on the scar but the bullet hole in the temple.
‘What does that scar mean?’ he asked.
Iron Eyes released his grip. The body crumpled at his boots as the lean man wiped the palms of his hands down his blood-stained coat.
‘A half-moon scar is Running Wolf’s mark,’ Iron Eyes replied as he turned and headed back to where they had left their own horses. ‘If you wanna be one of Running Wolf’s rebels, that’s the price you gotta pay, sonny. He brands his men like folks brand their cattle.’
The two very different men started back to the dusty road and their mounts. Pablo led the pony as Iron Eyes walked silently ahead of him. There was a brooding in the bounty hunter that unnerved the Mexican. It was as though Iron Eyes knew what the future had in store for him and was resigned to accept it. Even if it meant his own death, he was de
termined to continue on after the elusive Running Wolf.
Pablo swallowed hard as they reached the pair of thoroughbreds. He tied the pony to his cantle and then stared at the grim-faced Iron Eyes.
Iron Eyes pulled out another bottle from his saddle bags and started to down its clear liquor. When the fumes had filled his flared nostrils, he handed the bottle to the young Mexican. His cold stare watched as Pablo took a few sips and then returned it to the bounty hunter.
‘Gracious, señor.’ He coughed as the lean figure returned the bottle to the satchel. He could see a glint in the lifeless eyes as Iron Eyes patted himself down and continued to glare out at the sun-baked land.
‘Does this mean something to you?’ he asked.
‘It sure does,’ Iron Eyes retorted as he located a cigar and placed it between his teeth. ‘It means that Running Wolf’s camp is closer than we figured. That Apache didn’t ride far on that pony.’
A smile came to Pablo’s face. ‘You mean that Maria might be closer than we dared to think possible, señor?’
Iron Eyes struck a match and raised it to the tip of the cigar. He inhaled the smoke a few times and then tossed the match aside.
‘She’s real close, sonny.’ He nodded.
Pablo was about to shout in joy when he noticed the blood dripping from the sleeve of Iron Eyes’s left arm. There was concern in his face as he moved closer to the torn sleeve and went to touch it. Before his hands even got close, Iron Eyes pulled away.
‘You are bleeding very badly, my friend,’ he said.
Iron Eyes glanced into his companion’s eyes. ‘Fix a fire and rustle up some grub, sonny. I’ll tend to this scratch myself.’
The surprised Mexican looked at the bounty hunter. ‘We are not going back to the hacienda to get the rest of my father’s vaqueros?’
Iron Eyes sucked smoke into his lungs and savoured its flavour as he looked at his companion. His hooded eyes remained fixed upon the nervous Mexican.
‘You ain’t scared, are you?’ he hissed.
Pablo shrugged. ‘I am not nervous, señor. I am just not foolhardy. We do not know how many followers Running Wolf has. We have to get my father’s men to help us.’
‘Nope. There ain’t time to get reinforcements, sonny,’ Iron Eyes said bluntly. ‘We’re going to find his camp on our lonesome, but if you wanna head off for your pappy’s hacienda, get going.’
Pablo frowned. ‘You would go on your own?’
Iron Eyes blew smoke across the distance between them and nodded. ‘Yep. Running Wolf and his army of cutthroats wouldn’t figure on anyone attacking them on their lonesome, would he?’
The young Mexican stared at the tall haunting figure with a mixture of admiration and disbelief etched across his handsome features. He could not understand how anyone could face death so willingly.
‘Is it possible for us to rescue little Maria on our own, Señor Iron Eyes?’ he gulped.
Iron Eyes forced a grin. ‘We’ll find that out soon enough, sonny. The worst that can happen to us is we’ll get ourselves killed.’
‘Killed?’
Iron Eyes pulled the cigar from his teeth and nodded firmly at the younger man. His hollow eyes looked at his hand and the blood that covered it. Blood was still flowing freely from his arm.
‘Listen up, Pablo. We ain’t got time to muster up an army to help us,’ he drawled as smoke filtered through his teeth. ‘It’d take too long to head back to your pappy and return here. We gotta act now. Besides, Maria ain’t got time to wait much longer.’
Pablo thought about his sister.
‘You are right,’ he conceded.
Iron Eyes sucked the last of his cigar’s smoke into his emaciated body and leaned over his companion.
‘Get some kindling and start that fire,’ he whispered as he glared at his hand. ‘You got vittles to cook and I gotta stop this damn bleeding.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The smoke from the campfire rose up into the blue sky as Iron Eyes sat cross-legged beside its flames and watched his long bladed Bowie knife thrust into the heart of the crackling fire. As Pablo sat opposite the bounty hunter holding his skillet over the flames, he watched his companion silently.
Iron Eyes had removed his coat and tore his shirt sleeve away from the deep graze. Blood still flowed from the three-inch-long wound as Iron Eyes pulled the cork from the neck of one of the tequila bottles.
He spat the cork at the sand and poured the strong liquor over the wound. His bony right hand thrust the bottle into the soft sand and then reached for the handle of the Bowie knife. He withdrew it from the hot embers and stared briefly at the red hot metal.
Pablo suddenly realized what his companion was going to do and screwed his face up as though he were about to feel the pain himself.
Iron Eyes placed the hot steel against his bleeding wound as the tequila ignited. A flaming flash rose from his already maimed flesh. The flame only lasted a few seconds but it was long enough for the bounty hunter to lose consciousness. He fell backward on to the sand and dropped his knife.
Pablo dropped the skillet on to the fire and got to his feet. He rushed to Iron Eyes and crouched down beside him.
‘Señor Iron Eyes,’ he shouted as the painfully thin bounty hunter lay on his back. ‘Señor Iron Eyes. Are you OK?’
For a few moments the bounty hunter just lay as though he were dead. His bullet coloured eyes remained open as they stared up at the blue sky. Then his chest began to heave and he stared at the concerned Mexican beside him.
‘Has it stopped bleeding?’ he hissed through gritted teeth.
Pablo glanced at the graze. It had stopped bleeding. The flesh had been soldered by the fiery combination of tequila and fire. He nodded and helped Iron Eyes off his back.
‘The wound has stopped bleeding,’ he said.
Iron Eyes shook his head and looked at the arm. He reached for the knife and pushed it back into the neck of his boot.
‘Good.’ He sighed before plucking up the bottle and raising it to his mouth. ‘I’d hate to go through that pain and find out that it hadn’t worked.’
Pablo watched as Iron Eyes drank half the contents of the bottle before stopping for air. He made his way back to the skillet and removed it from the fire.
‘Are you ready to eat?’ he asked the dishevelled man. ‘The bacon is ready.’
Iron Eyes raised his head and looked through the flames at the youngster. His fingers found a cigar and placed it into the corner of his mouth.
‘You eat it.’ He sighed before looking at the remaining liquor in the bottle. ‘I’ll just fill my innards with this liquor and have me a smoke for dessert.’
Pablo carefully picked the greasy bacon from the skillet and started eating. As he chewed he watched Iron Eyes light his cigar and finish the tequila.
‘Do you never get drunk, señor?’ he asked.
Iron Eyes poked his sore arm back into his coat sleeve.
‘I never have, sonny,’ he replied before forcing his long bony body off the sand until he was standing. He chewed on the cigar and looked down upon the Mexican. ‘Hurry up and finish them hog strips. We gotta hit the trail again.’
‘Sí, señor.’ Pablo jumped to his feet and started to douse the fire by scrapping sand over it. He then cooled the skillet with more sand before placing it into one of his saddle-bag’s satchels. ‘You are OK to ride?’
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
‘Your arm.’ Pablo pointed at the bounty hunter’s limb.
Iron Eyes grunted and then strode to the tall horse bearing his livery. He stepped into the stirrup and hoisted himself up on to its back. He gathered up its long leathers and waited for Pablo to mount his own horse.
‘You said before that you know where Running Wolf’s camp is, señor,’ Pablo said as he dragged the high-shouldered stallion around to face his comrade. ‘Do you really know where we will find little Maria?’
Iron Eyes blew smoke at the air and nodded.
‘Th
at dead Apache came from west of here,’ he drawled knowingly. ‘Someplace between here and that big ocean. A place where the land is stained red from high mesas.’
‘How do you know this?’ Pablo gasped.
‘That Injun was covered in red dust, boy, and so is that pony of his,’ Iron Eyes explained through cigar smoke and pointed. ‘There ain’t no such sand around here but there is over yonder.’
Pablo looked at the pony and then to where they could see the tall jagged spires poking up over the horizon.
‘All we gotta do is follow the fresh hoof marks left by that Apache’s pony and we’ll find out where Running Wolf’s encampment is, sonny.’ Iron Eyes inhaled smoke and glanced at his dumbfounded companion. ‘Savvy?’
‘Sí. I savvy.’ Pablo nodded.
Suddenly, without warning, the bounty hunter lashed the ends of his long leathers across the shoulders of the horse beneath him. The thoroughbred horse sprang into action and started to thunder across the parched terrain toward the stony spires with Pablo in hot pursuit.
The gaunt horseman followed the trail left by the Apache brave as his young apprentice led the Indian pony behind the tail of his own muscular mount.
The merciless sun had not reached its zenith as both horsemen headed deeper into the hostile desert. Then they saw the wall of red rocks before them and the natural stone archway which led into the mysterious valley beyond. To the young Fernandez, this was a place where he had never gone before. He had no idea that it even existed within his father’s vast ranch.
To Iron Eyes this was just where the pony’s hoof tracks led. Another unknown place like the countless others that stretched from sea to sea.
They spurred harder. The closer they got, the more they could smell the tell-tale clues that there was an encampment somewhere close.
They did not know it but they were heading straight for Devil’s Cradle and directly into the jaws of Hell itself.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A steely determination filled the unholy horseman as he continued to thrust his bloody spurs into the flanks of his mount. As though attempting to run from the constant pain the bounty hunter was inflicting upon it, the thoroughbred horse ran faster than it had ever done before. Iron Eyes whipped the long tails of his reins across the horse’s muscular shoulders and encouraged the lathered-up animal to reach the top of a dusty ridge.
