by Rory Black
‘I’m gonna enjoy servicing you, Squirrel,’ he drooled, touching her chin.
‘I’m gonna enjoy killing you,’ Sally retorted.
Denver straightened up, rested his knuckles on his hips and grinned down at the young beauty as she vainly wriggled in an attempt to free herself.
‘That should keep you under control,’ Denver said.
Sally glanced at the senior outlaw and spat. ‘You’ll find out how hard it is to keep me under control, old timer.’
Denver shook his fist at her.
‘Now shut that big mouth of yours, gal,’ Denver shouted at her as he and his cohorts prepared for the coming of night and the potential arrival of the infamous bounty hunter. ‘I’m curious as to whether you’ve bin telling us the truth about you being Iron Eyes’ woman.’
Sally’s eyebrows arched, ‘You calling me a liar?’
‘If the shoe fits,’ Denver snarled.
‘Shoe? What shoe?’ Sally yelled as she stared at her bare feet. ‘I’m Iron Eyes’ betrothed. We’re almost hitched. Me and him is nearly man and wife.’
‘How’d you figure that?’ McGee asked their captive.
‘He wrestled with my chests,’ she sniffed. ‘Where I’m from that means something.’
McGee looked at Vance. Both men frowned.
‘Let’s get a better look at them chests of yours, Squirrel.’ Denver marched up to Sally and ripped her already tattered shirt from her and laughed brutishly as she tried to conceal her modesty. A satisfied smirk traced his hardened features as he tossed the shirt at Vance who caught it and raised it to his face.
‘She sure smells mighty sweet,’ Vance sighed before tucking the trophy into his shirt. ‘She smells just like a woman.’
‘Ain’t that a surprise?’ Denver rolled his eyes and moved back to the open door. He grabbed one of the rifles and cranked its mechanism. His narrowed eyes studied the clearing carefully and then noted that the sun had fallen below the trees. ‘We gotta make sure that Iron Eyes sees her before he sees us. I want that stinking galoot to be so riled up at the sight of his woman strapped to a chair that he charges into the clearing without thinking.’
Both Vance and McGee laughed.
‘Then we kill him?’ McGee grinned.
‘Yep, then we can kill the bastard in our crossfire. There ain’t no cover between here and the trees and that’s exactly where I want him. Out in the open so we can blast him into a million bits.’ Denver sighed heavily as his fingers grabbed bullets from an open cardboard box and began sliding them into the rifle’s magazine.
‘Iron Eyes don’t die that easy, old timer,’ Sally glared at Denver. ‘He’ll kill you all before you can get him in your gunsights.’
Jody Denver took a backward step and then unleashed his free hand at the defiant Sally.
‘Hush up or I’ll gag you,’ Denver slapped the restrained female. Her beautiful head rocked on her slender neck as her golden hair bounced from the impact. Sally raised her head and stared defiantly at the outlaw leader as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
McGee picked up a rifle and stepped closer to Denver.
‘She might be right. Iron Eyes ain’t no fool, Jody. Just how are we gonna make sure that he leaves them trees?’ he asked.
‘He’ll come out of them trees, Bill,’ Denver said as he watched the light begin to fade out in the clearing. ‘I reckon that when he spots his woman buck-naked and looking the worse for wear, he’ll be so riled that he won’t give his own hide a second thought. It’ll be a turkey shoot.’
Vance dried his mouth on the back of his sleeve and then paced to the side of both his comrades. He lifted the last of the rifles off the table and stared over the shoulders of his fellow outlaws out into the clearing.
‘You mean you want me and Bill to stay out there in the trees all night waiting for a galoot who might not even turn up?’ he sighed shaking his head. ‘I ain’t no coward but I don’t cotton to staying out there all night with wild critters looking for their next meal.’
McGee looked terrified, ‘There’s bin a mountain lion roaming around here the last couple of nights, Jody.’
‘That’s right,’ Vance nodded. ‘I took a couple of pot-shots at it the night before last. That critter is probably even more dangerous than Iron Eyes.’
‘Nothing is more dangerous than Iron Eyes,’ Squirrel Sally smirked at them. ‘You’ll find that out the hard way. When he shows up you’ll be wishing it was a mountain lion.’
The look which Denver bestowed upon his men was enough to end any further objections or conversation. He pointed to the left and then the right.
‘Take up positions,’ Denver drawled.
Vance moved through the twilight and secreted himself in the trees at the edge of the clearing while McGee raced to the large woodpile ten yards from their secured horses. The outlaw lay on the ground behind the carefully chopped and stacked logs.
Denver turned and looked at Sally.
She did not like the smile on his unshaven face. It did not suit his scowling features and troubled the female. She raised her knees in a vain bid to hide from his prying eyes as he slowly moved toward her.
‘Keep your damn distance,’ Sally said in a vain bid to stop the veteran outlaw. ‘I’m betrothed to Iron Eyes and he’s not the sort of critter who looks kindly on folks getting close to his woman.’
Her valiant bluff fell on deaf ears. He grabbed her arms and hauled her off the cabin floor and then pushed her on to the only chair in the room. He removed his bandanna from his neck and tied one of her ankles to a chair leg. Denver stepped to the table as she rocked on the chair.
‘That should hold you.’ He chuckled.
Sally glared at him through her golden hair.
‘It’s getting dark fast,’ Denver lifted the glass funnel off the oil lamp and scratched a match across the surface of the rough table and cupped its flame. ‘I want your man to get a good look at his woman.’
She watched as Denver lit the lamps wick, then returned the funnel and adjusted its brass wheel. The cabin lit up like the fourth of July as lamplight cascaded around the confines of the small cabin.
The flickering light danced upon her exposed flesh. Sally lowered her head as she tried to work out how to get the better of the three men when she was hog-tied.
The hardened outlaw had placed her directly opposite the open doorway. With the amber light dancing on her seated form it suddenly became obvious to Sally that Denver intended Iron Eyes to see her clearly as he reached the edge of the trees and rush to her aide.
Denver sat upon one of the crude cots and rested his back against the log wall with his Winchester resting upon his knees as he stared out of the window.
Although Sally was bathed in the unforgiving light of the oil lamp she was determined to free herself from her bonds before Iron Eyes fell into Denver’s trap.
Having her shirt torn from her flesh had loosened the leather belts grip and it had moved upward slightly. She wriggled and felt the leather continue to ride up her arms naked flesh steadily. Sally only paused when Denver glanced in her direction. Another few inches and she could free herself from the belt and make a dash for her Winchester, she reasoned.
When Denver’s gaze returned to the window she continued to gently manipulate the belt with her arms and shoulders as the toes of her free foot picked at the bandanna’s knot. Sally knew that her prized rifle was just outside the door waiting for her to unleash its fury.
So near and yet so far away.
As Sally continued to discreetly manipulate the belt, she began to realize that the four paces to the open doorway were probably four paces too far but she was willing to risk her life for the man she adored. Her beautiful eyes glanced through her long wavy hair at Denver.
His finger was curled around the trigger of his rifle ready to start shooting. He’d kill her for sure. Sally knew that she was the only target in the cabin until her beloved Iron Eyes arrived.
The belt’s pr
ogress suddenly halted. She looked down and then frowned at her perfectly formed breasts. They were preventing the leather restraint from continuing its upward journey.
Undeterred she inhaled and discreetly pressed on.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With arrows still flying at his wide back, Iron Eyes rammed his bloody spurs into the valiant stallion and gave out a yell that was even louder than those of the Kiowa riders behind him. The powerful golden stallion had continued to prove its pedigree and breeding against the Indian ponies who could not keep pace with its superior strength. With its gaunt rider balanced precariously in its stirrups, the mighty animal raced to the foot of the precarious slope.
The palomino began to ascend its muddy surface at incredible pace. Iron Eyes kept whipping the tail of the stallion and shouting at the muscular steed. The intrepid horse responded to the encouragement and kept on climbing.
Its shod hoofs clawed at the mud and continued to climb up the almost vertical obstacle with the dexterity more akin to a mountain goat. The stallion’s muscles rippled as it kept moving up through the slippery mud in response to the gaunt horseman’s vocal and physical encouragement.
Within a mere heartbeat, the horse was halfway up the slope. Its horseshoes dug into the soft mud and found every scrap of resistance to use as a ladder. The large palomino used the tree roots which lay just inches beneath the mud as rungs of the natural ladder and ascended them speedily as its master balanced by gripping the silver horn of the Mexican saddle.
Like an accomplished tightrope walker, Iron Eyes shook spent casings from one of his guns and then plunged the smoking weapon back into his bullet-filled dust coat pocket.
With the dexterity of a well-seasoned riverboat cardsharp, the bounty hunter managed to fill its chambers with fresh bullets from the depths of his pocket. As the lean bounty hunter remained standing above the shoulders of his intrepid horse, his bony digits secured the rotating chamber back into the belly of the Navy Colt.
Iron Eyes glanced over his shoulder at the Kiowa as they swarmed between the trees before reaching the foot of the slope. He licked his dry lips and watched as some of the braves plucked arrows from the mud and trees to replenish their quivers.
He lashed the tail of the horse.
‘Keep moving, horse,’ he yelled as he sat back down and spurred the exhausted animal. ‘You’re almost there. C’mon, you can do it.’
His heart was pounding inside his battle-scarred chest like a war drum as he stared at the top of the slope slowly getting closer. The dishevelled horseman did everything he could think of to encourage the palomino up the last few precarious yards. Then he heard the Kiowa start their bone-chilling chant once again.
Iron Eyes glanced back at the Indians. They had remounted and were attempting to follow the larger horse up the slippery rise. But unlike their prey, the Kiowa were riding bareback and needed both hands to prevent themselves from sliding backwards off their ponies.
The freshly reloaded Navy Colt fired down at the Kiowa. His shot found the lead rider and punched him off the back of his painted pony. Both horse and rider fell back and took other horsemen with them.
Iron Eyes turned carefully and pounded the gun against his canteens. The stallion reacted and hastened its speed.
There was no time to lose, the skeletal Iron Eyes told himself as he pushed the smoking six-gun into his belt. He had to reach the top of the slope before his pursuers started to use his wide back for target practice once more.
With one hand gripping the silver saddle horn the other gathered the ends of his long leathers and started to whip the palomino’s shoulders mercilessly.
‘Keep going, you ornery gluepot,’ he ranted. ‘You nearly done it, boy.’
The beleaguered stallion drove its hoofs into the muddy slope and gave its last valiant effort. Every sinew of the animal rippled in the fading light as it forced itself up and over the slippery ridge. With its legs covered in mud up to its knees, the palomino had managed to clear the lip of the slope. Level ground greeted the palomino as it fell forward on to its knees.
The exhausted horse just lay on the ground for a few moments on the grassy ground as its snorted. Then it summoned every last ounce of its strength and got back to its feet. For a few seemingly endless moments the stallion swayed like a newly-born foal.
Iron Eyes patted the neck of the weary horse, looped his leg over its neck and slid to the ground. He could hear the mayhem of the chasing Indians below his high vantage point as he pulled out his other gun and swiftly reloaded it with more of the loose bullets from his pockets.
‘Them Injuns sure ain’t happy, horse,’ he growled as he strode to the very edge of the slope and stared down at the Kiowa braves. ‘Get going. I’ll kill you if you don’t.’
The determined braves looked up at the haunting figure above them. They could not believe that the horseman had managed to climb the greasy slope while they had failed. The legend of the mysterious Iron Eyes only grew in their collective minds.
Was he truly a living corpse? Was that why they had failed to kill him? How had his horse done what their own ponies could not?
Iron Eyes’ icy stare watched as the frantic Kiowa unsuccessfully attempted to navigate the same route as he had taken. Half had fallen from their ponies while the remainder were bogged down in the mire.
As his bony hands toyed with the Navy Colt he observed a few of the fallen warriors at the foot of the hill raising their bows and firing at him. It sounded like crazed hornets as the arrows flew from their bowstrings.
Like a ragged scarecrow Iron Eyes stepped back as arrows flew passed him and hit overhanging branches. As leaves rained down on the bounty hunter, he drew his second six-shooter.
He cocked the hammers of both weapons until they fully locked into position and then advanced back to the edge of the rim. The tall haunting figure had only just stopped when he heard the sound of a bow releasing another arrow.
Before he could retreat the arrow came up from the blackness below him. Its flint arrowhead came within inches of his face and hit the rim of the wide sombrero he had been wearing since leaving Mexico.
The wide brimmed hat was torn from his head. Its drawstring snapped under his chin. Iron Eyes watched as the sombrero went hurtling off into the impenetrable depths of the forest. Startled and angry the lean bounty hunter gritted his teeth and moved back to the very edge of the slope.
‘Damn it all,’ Iron Eyes growled as he glared down at the highly painted warriors who were gathering up their bows and placing arrows on the taut strings. ‘That arrow almost hit me.’
His words only drew more venomous arrows.
With his primed guns still gripped in his bony hands, Iron Eyes ducked as half a dozen more lethal projectiles flew up from the floor of the gully and passed all around his emaciated body. A fury raged up inside the crouching bounty hunter like an erupting volcano.
The bounty hunter fired his weapons in quick succession down into the depths of the gully at his determined adversaries.
Yet the gloom hindered his usual expert marksmanship. His narrowed eyes had seen at least three of the Kiowa fall before the acrid gunsmoke spewing from his gun barrels made it impossible to see his attackers any longer. Yet Iron Eyes kept on firing into the acrid smoke.
After emptying both guns, Iron Eyes stepped back from the edge of the slope, shook the spent casings from his smoking weapons and silently reloaded each Navy Colt in turn.
Then he heard the ponies riding away and pocketed both guns into his dust coat pocket. The Kiowa had gathered their dead and wounded and then retreated before the guns of the bounty hunter began spitting more death at them.
Like a demonic creature from the bowels of Hell, he turned and paced back to the side of his exhausted mount. He had no desire to look down into the abyss and see the bloody carnage he had just created. Iron Eyes had seen death too many times to be curious about it.
He patted the palomino on the neck, grabbed the reins before st
epping back into his stirrup and hauling his pitifully thin body back up on to the ornate saddle. His thoughts returned to the reason he was in this unholy forest at all.
It was imperative that he find Squirrel Sally before she encountered equally dangerous foes. The bounty hunter was dog-tired but there was no time to rest. He glanced up at the sky and shook his head. The blue heavens were getting darker with every passing second and he was not sure whether that was good or bad for his quest.
Iron Eyes turned the stallion and stared at the giant trees that faced him. There was no hint of remorse in his emotionless face for what had just occurred. Iron Eyes had been attacked and had fought his attackers.
It was as simple as that.
There was nothing personal in it.
His only regret was that he had wasted valuable ammunition for no good reason apart from defending himself. Ammunition that might be required to kill wanted outlaws who had a price on their heads. He tapped the flanks of his mount and allowed the exhausted stallion to walk forward.
There was no profit in killing anyone apart from outlaws he thought as he glanced over his shoulder and shouted out at the fleeing Kiowa.
‘That’ll teach you to mess with a man fresh out of hard liquor,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘I don’t mind you shooting my hat but not when my damn head’s in it.’
The horse continued to slowly make its way through the thick grass between the trees when Iron Eyes suddenly spotted something ahead.
It was something that he had not seen in quite a while.
The bounty hunter tapped his boots harder against the flanks of his mount. The horse trotted through the maze of trees until it reached the spot that its master had noticed in the fading light.
Iron Eyes stared down at the trail road and then rubbed his sweat-soaked brow. He could no longer remember the last time he had seen the road. Glimpses of moonlight filtered through the tree branches and sparkled on the road as frost began to coat its surface.
His eyes tightened and focused on the wheel grooves on the frosty road. He nodded in satisfaction and then stared down at the familiar grooves glinting in the sparkling moonlight.
