The Spurs of Iron Eyes (Iron Eyes Western #3)

by Rory Black

  ‘Usual, Sheriff?’ the waitress asked.

  ‘Yep,’ Bass replied, resting the heavy shotgun across the checkered tablecloth.

  ‘You expecting trouble?’ she enquired.

  Bass smiled up at her and winked. She smiled and went to the rear of the cafe, as he leaned forward in his chair and looked at the bank once more. Would anyone even consider robbing the Rio Vista Bank? Nobody ever had.

  Yet these two men were outlaws. They knew they were taking a risk returning to town with the possibility of Iron Eyes still being around, and yet they had returned all the same. Bass knew the bank had always done good business.

  It had to be the bank which had drawn them back.

  The sheriff began to wonder what he ought to do for the best - considering he might just be wrong.

  Then he saw them walking back out from the hotel and pausing on the boardwalk. Iron Eyes had been right about these two men. He had seen the way they dressed; the way they always kept their gun grips clear by pushing their jackets over their holsters. For a moment the sheriff felt as if he should go out into the street and let them see his star shining in the brilliant sunlight. It might make them ride off to another place to become another lawman’s headache, but it might also prove a tempting target for them to practice on. Frank Lewis and Ben Tyler seemed to stare up and down the street for a few moments before heading across towards the saloon.

  As his meal arrived, Bass sat back and decided to eat. There was plenty of time to act later. Much later.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bass could not put off the inevitable any longer. Placing a half-dollar onto the side order plate he rose and picked up his heavy shotgun.

  ‘You leaving us already, Sheriff?’ the sweet-natured waitress asked, as she watched the heavily built man stepping reluctantly to the open door.

  Glancing up at the wall clock he noted it was now forty minutes since he had first entered.

  ‘I got to go talk with a couple of strangers.’

  She smiled as she always smiled and he stepped out into the bright street and began making his way down towards the saloon.

  Bass felt his heart beating faster than it had ever done before, with the exception of when he had first encountered Iron Eyes. As he reached the swing doors of the saloon he stared in before entering.

  There were only four people in the cool, long room drinking; two vaqueros at a table at the foot of the stairs, and the two outlaws he sought leaning on the bar. Bass sucked in his wide girth, clutched his shotgun and walked into the saloon.

  Trying not to look as if he wanted anything but a beer, the sheriff moved to the end of the long bar and nodded at the bartender.

  ‘Beer.’

  ‘Coming up, Sheriff.’ The man behind the bar waved as he took a glass and placed it under the tap.

  The faces of the two men sipping at their whiskey turned and looked across at the lawman.

  ‘Hot enough for you boys?’ Bass said calmly.

  Tyler nodded as Lewis grinned.

  ‘Mighty hot, Sheriff.’

  Bass lifted the glass of beer up to his lips and took a large swallow.

  ‘You boys in town for any particular reason?’

  Lewis moved closer to the lawman.

  ‘Nothing important. We were heading to San Remo but figured it would be smart to rest up here for a few days first.’

  Bass nodded.

  ‘You cattle buyers?’

  Lewis glanced at his partner before replying.

  ‘We were thinking of trying to get into that business.’

  ‘I hear it pays a healthy profit.’ The sheriff kept sipping at his beer as he listened and watched the two uncomfortable strangers.

  ‘You kept busy in Rio Vista?’ Tyler asked.

  ‘Saturday nights,’ Bass smiled.

  The two outlaws began to laugh while they refilled their glasses from their whiskey bottle.

  ‘Last time we were in town we saw you with a tall man,’ Lewis said quietly.

  ‘You mean Iron Eyes?’ Bass raised an eyebrow as he watched the effect the name had on the two nervous men.

  Tyler gulped.

  ‘The bounty hunter?’

  ‘Yep.’ The sheriff noticed the sweat beginning to trickle down from beneath the outlaw’s hat as the man toyed with the small crystal tumbler before him.

  ‘Is he still in town, Sheriff?’ Lewis asked, staring into his drink.

  ‘Nope. He rode out two days back,’ Bass answered.

  ‘He due back?’ Ben Tyler’s voice croaked.

  ‘Hard to say.’

  ‘How come?’

  Bass pushed his empty glass towards the bartender and signaled for it to be replenished.

  ‘He rode down into Mexico.’

  ‘Was he after someone?’ Frank Lewis felt suddenly relieved at the thought of the deadly bounty hunter not being in Rio Vista.

  ‘There’s some bandits down there.’ Bass rubbed his chin as the glass of beer was placed before him. ‘I guess they must have a price on their heads for him to be interested, boys.’

  The two outlaws seemed to be happier knowing the one man who could thwart their plans was south of the border. They seemed to visibly relax and loosen up as they sipped at their liquor.

  ‘How long you boys intend staying in town?’ Bass asked as he lifted the glass off the bar counter and moved it to his lips.

  ‘A couple of days,’ Lewis smiled.

  Bass drained his glass and touched the brim of his Stetson as he plucked up his shotgun before turning to leave. As he strode across the sawdust he felt their eyes burning into his spine with every step. He did not look back but pushed his way through the doors and out into the blazing sun. As he made his way across the street, he found himself heading towards the bank. It was only a feeling in the pit of his guts but he thought it best to warn the banker. Just in case.

  No sooner had the sheriff seated himself down in his office chair after returning from the bank, his attention was drawn to the window once more. Frank Lewis and Ben Tyler were standing directly outside his office, shoulder to shoulder with their backs to him. Bass began to rise from his chair when the two men swiftly entered and slammed the door shut behind them.

  The long barrel of the Smith & Wesson pressed against his wrinkled temple made Bass return his wide rear back onto the padded leather.

  He watched as Lewis quickly lowered the shade.

  ‘Boys?’

  Ben Tyler pushed the cold steel into the sheriff’s skull and forced him back and growled, ‘You must be the dumbest lawman that ever there was.’

  ‘Easy, Ben,’ Lewis said, as he looked around the shade at the quiet, sun-drenched street. ‘I don’t want no noise to wake up the town’s citizens.’

  Bass glanced across at the calmer and more methodical Lewis as the gun barrel pressed painfully into his head.

  ‘I guess you boys ain’t here to play checkers.’

  ‘Funny, old man,’ Frank Lewis smiled, as he walked over to his partner and whispered in his ear. Whatever was said, it made the face of Tyler light up.

  ‘I ... I lied about Iron Eyes,’ Sheriff Bass mumbled.

  Lewis turned on his heels and narrowed his eyes, looking down at the sweating face of the sheriff. For a second he did nothing, then he stepped closer and bent over until his mouth was next to Bass’s ear.

  ‘Say that again.’

  Clearing his throat, Bass began to speak.

  ‘Iron Eyes didn’t really leave town like I said.’

  Panic traced its way across Tyler’s face as he heard the words dripping off the sheriff’s tongue.

  ‘I told you that man hunter wouldn’t just up and leave town, Frank. He’s out there someplace waiting for us.’

  ‘Easy.’ Lewis stepped back to the window and looked around the shade once more as his mind raced. Was the old man bluffing?

  ‘Let’s ride, Frank,’ Tyler said, as sweat began pouring off his face.

  ‘No. Let me figure this.’
Lewis grabbed Bass’s hair and dragged the lawman’s head back as far as it would go. Tou got five seconds to tell us the truth or I’m gonna let Ben blow your brains out, Sheriff

  Bass felt his neck muscles being torn as he finally swallowed deeply and began spluttering.

  ‘Okay. I lied. Iron Eyes did ride south. He ain’t in town.’

  Releasing his grip, Frank Lewis smiled as he looked into his partner’s eyes and winked. The gun barrel came down hard across the top of the sheriff’s skull causing him to slump in his chair. ‘Come on, Ben. We got a bank to rob.’

  Finale

  The look of shock on Frank Lewis’s face was only matched by the horror carved into the sweating features of his partner, Ben Tyler. The door to the Rio Vista Bank was locked and bolted when the two outlaws turned its brass handle. It had only just turned two on the hot sunny afternoon, and the wall shingle proclaimed its hours of business were from 10 a.m. - 3 p.m.

  ‘Something’s wrong, Frank,’ Tyler snapped, the palm of his hand rested upon his gun grip.

  Lewis strode along the boardwalk and tried to see into the bank. The green shades were down and there was no sound emanating from its interior.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘It ain’t three,’ Tyler snapped angrily.

  ‘It ain’t Sunday either, Ben.’ Lewis wiped the perspiration from his brow with his jacket sleeve.

  Then, as they began to walk toward the narrow alleyway which ran up beside the length of the building, they saw a terrifying vision which made their blood turn to ice within their veins.

  The grim-faced bounty hunter sat astride one horse whilst the body of Manillo lay lifelessly over the saddle of another. Both animals showed the visible signs of the mayhem they had endured, but nothing compared to Iron Eyes. He was covered in the blood of others as well as his own. He had pulled the reins of his mount to a halt in the centre of the wide street and just sat motionless watching the two men outside the bank.

  ‘Iron Eyes!’ Lewis exclaimed, as he gripped the shoulder of his terrified partner.

  ‘Look at him. He’s half dead,’ Tyler noted.

  ‘Even half dead, he’s twice as dangerous as any other living man, Ben,’ Lewis whispered, as they edged along the boardwalk away from the bank in the direction of the hotel.

  Dropping the tethers to the pack horse, Iron Eyes jabbed his bloodstained spurs into the horse beneath him and steered it along slowly after them.

  ‘He’s still coming, Frank.’

  Both men began to increase their pace as they tried to reach their horses tied to the hitching rail. Only as they moved off the boardwalk and stretched for the leather reins wrapped around the pole, did the chilling voice echo out from the mounted Iron Eyes.

  ‘Touch them saddle horns and I’ll kill you.’

  The two outlaws skidded to a halt beside the two mounts before turning. When they found themselves facing the approaching rider, their mouths went dry.

  Iron Eyes had just returned from a battle and it showed. He had left dead bandits in the distant Mexican village who looked in better shape than he did. Dried blood covered his face and clothing. His coat had been torn to ribbons on his back and yet he still lived. Throwing his long right leg over the neck of his mount, he slid to the ground. A small cloud of dust rose from the impact of his mule-ear boots. Then he began walking.

  For the first time in his life, Frank Lewis felt fear in his soul as he stared at the ghastly sight pacing unsteadily toward him. He had never witnessed a man walking so obviously injured. Yet Iron Eyes was walking straight at them.

  Tyler tried to find words which might halt the man’s determined approach, but there were no words. His throat hurt as it tightened like a noose around his vocal cords.

  ‘You boys ready to die?’ Iron Eyes asked, as he stopped twenty paces from them and parted his long coat to reveal the pair of Navy Colt gun grips poking out from his belt.

  ‘We never robbed the bank, Iron Eyes. The damn bank is locked up tighter than—’

  ‘No matter.’ Iron Eyes interrupted Frank Lewis’s sentence firmly and he ran his bony fingers through his long black hair which was matted with the dried blood of an earlier encounter.

  The two outlaws did not know what to do for the best as they watched the bloodied features of the bounty hunter staring at them. There seemed no life in the infamous eyes. He just stared like the Grim Reaper at his victims.

  ‘Why kill us when we never robbed the bank?’ Lewis shouted fearfully.

  Iron Eyes pulled the pair of crumpled Wanted posters from his deep left-hand coat pocket and tossed them onto the ground between them and spat.

  ‘Dead or alive.’

  The figure of Sheriff Bass came staggering out of his office holding his head. The sight before his blurred eyes froze him to the spot. Iron Eyes looked at the injured lawman and nodded.

  ‘You look like hell, Bass.’

  Bass leaned on a porch upright and wondered if the bounty hunter had any idea of how he looked.

  There was an eerie silence which drifted along the hot street like a phantom.

  ‘Go for your guns, boys,’ Iron Eyes ordered.

  Tyler was first to drag his Smith & Wesson from its holster as his partner drew his own pistol at his side. Faster than the blink of an eye, the pair of Navy Colts were in the bony hands and firing.

  Lewis felt the bullet tearing through his right arm causing him to drop his weapon. A split second later Tyler felt half the gun hand being torn off his wrist. Then Iron Eyes lowered his guns and watched as the two men scrambled into their saddles and rode away in a cloud of dust.

  Before Iron Eyes had reached the lawman, Father Jose had arrived on the scene.

  ‘You okay, Bass?’ Iron Eyes asked. He noticed lace curtain drapes moving at dozens of windows around them.

  ‘Got me a headache,’ Bass responded, feeling the arms of the priest helping him back inside his office.

  Iron Eyes pushed his two matched pistols back into his belt and followed the two men into the dark interior.

  ‘I see you killed the bandit leader, my son,’ Father Jose noted.

  ‘Yep.’ Iron Eyes began flicking through the wanted posters looking to see if Manillo’s image was worth anything in American money.

  ‘How come you let them varmints get away, Iron Eyes?’ Bass asked the tall man who hovered over his desk like a vulture.

  Iron Eyes moved to the doorway again and paused.

  ‘It’ll be easy enough to track them down. They’re bleeding like stuck pigs, old man.’ Iron Eyes grinned through his injuries at the sheriff.

  Father Jose moved to the side of the bounty hunter quietly.

  ‘I found your money hidden under the altar of my chapel, my son.’

  Iron Eyes walked across to the waiting horse and stepped into the stirrup before gathering up the long leather tethers to the pack horse with the dead bandit tied to its back.

  ‘I ain’t got time to talk, Jose. I got to catch me a couple of outlaws and claim the bounty before old Manillo here gets too ripe.’

  ‘But what about your money, Iron Eyes?’ Father Jose repeated.

  There was a half smile upon the bloodstained face of the bounty hunter as he showed the small little leather pouch given to him by Pablo.

  ‘This is my money, Jose.’

  ‘I do not understand, my son.’

  ‘If you’ve found a lot of money under your altar, maybe you oughta help folks like old Pablo who need some new milk cows and the like.’ The bounty hunter put a cigar in his mouth and lit it before spurring his horse and moving away dragging the pack horse in tow.

  ‘But why did you leave your money in the chapel, my son?’

  Father Jose’s question went unanswered as the ghost-like figure of Iron Eyes rode out of Rio Vista, slowly tracking the trail of blood left by Frank Lewis and Ben Tyler. The priest stood in the centre of the street watching the unmistakable mane of black hair flapping like the wings of an eagle in search of its prey
, until it eventually disappeared.

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  Other Titles in the Series:

  1.IRON EYES

  2. IRON EYES THE AVENGER