by Rory Black
Things had gone too far.
Hakatan had lost too many of his precious people. He no longer believed that the six strange creatures who continued to torture them mercilessly were worthy gods.
It was a confident Will Hayes who had said that they would leave the valley in a matter of days. The blazing eyes of the Indian chief who feverishly watched two of their strange breed taking a pair of his youngest females back towards the treasure house again had other plans.
Hakatan would try something that his people considered impossible.
He had started to plan how to kill their gods.
Chapter Seven
Lightning splintered across the vast expanse of heavens above the two riders as they feverishly whipped their exhausted mounts through a narrow twisting canyon. Dust curled up into the night air as the horsemen pushed their lathered-up mounts on and on, as though the Devil himself was chasing them. Both the wanted outlaws knew that they had already achieved the impossible. They had encountered Iron Eyes and were somehow still alive. Smooth, rounded boulders loomed above them, lit by the moon and the fading illumination of thousands of stars which were slowly giving way to the approaching storm. A storm which had dogged their trail ever since they had fled from the distant town.
Both horsemen knew that so far the strange figure who had so expertly cut down their fellow gang members hours earlier had not yet followed. Both prayed that the wooden chandelier had killed him, but they knew that men like Iron Eyes were not easily killed. Glancing back gave neither of the outlaws any feeling of safety or security. Ben Barton had said days earlier that they had managed to shake off the infamous bounty hunter. He had been proved wrong.
Both Whip Slater and Clem Barker knew that just because they could not see the ghostly horseman behind them it did not mean that he was not there.
For men like Iron Eyes never quit. They simply did not know how to stop their deadly pursuit once they had started after their chosen prey. The wanted posters buried deep in the pockets of the bounty hunter had to be honored. Iron Eyes would never rest until he had caught up with them and sent them to their Maker.
Their horses were slowing. No amount of spurring could get them to increase their pace. At last the cost of the effort expended in the frantic galloping was showing in the way the animals no longer ate up the ground beneath their hoofs but staggered and tripped. It had been a long hard ride from San Remo but neither of the outlaws had noticed. All they could think of was the sight of Iron Eyes when he had slaughtered their comrades in the saloon a few hours before.
It was a vision that had kept both men spurring until they reached the very edge of the moonlit river. The storm was heading their way and neither of them knew whether that was a good or bad thing. Would the storm protect them or make it easier for the hunter of men to close in on them unseen? It was a fearful question that neither outlaw could answer.
It was Slater who slowed his stumbling mount first. Barker drew rein when he saw his pal ease the lathered gelding beneath him to a halt.
Both men allowed their horses to walk to the lapping edge of the river before they dismounted. As their horses drank Slater and Barker looked back into the strange eerie moonlight at the distant town far behind them. Now sheets of rain were lashing across the barren landscape as the rumbling sky flashed with lethal venom. The storm was getting closer to them and with it came the fear that death would soon follow.
‘You reckon he’s still coming, Clem?’ Slater fearfully asked his companion.
‘Can’t see the bastard,’ Barker answered. His gloved left hand held his reins whilst his right rested on his holstered six-shooter.
‘That don’t mean he ain’t still doggin’ our trail.’ Slater sounded anxious. ‘We thought we’d shaken him off days back but he still showed up when we was just starting to have us a good time. Damned if I know how he caught up with us so fast.’
Barker watched his horse drink, then he looked up the steep hillside ahead of them to where a screen of mighty trees stood. He was nervous. This was a land where he had never ridden before. He had tagged along with the Barton brothers and Slater to meet up with a character known as Kansas Drew McGinty. He was just another hired gun.
‘I don’t like the look of them trees,’ Barker said.
Slater gave the forested mountains a brief glance before turning again and studying the trail behind them. The storm was coming after them, just as they feared the strange bounty hunter would do. Lightning forked down in the distance. Both men and horses could smell it. It was like the scent of burning flesh.
‘We could ride to the east but that’ll add a week or more to our journey.’ Slater nodded doubtfully.
Barker screwed up his eyes and kept a firm grip on his reins. ‘Where we headed, Whip?’
‘Providence,’ came the swift reply.
‘I ain’t heard of the place,’ Barker said shrugging.
‘It’s a gold town,’ Slater told him. ‘Ain’t too many of them left in these parts any longer. Used to be dozens of the damn things scattered all over but they all dried up when the gold started to get hard to find.’
Barker inhaled long and hard. ‘Was that critter back there the one they call Iron Eyes, Whip?’
Slater’s eyes darted to his companion. ‘Did you get a good look at him, Clem?’
The outlaw nodded. ‘Yep. I seen him OK. I ain’t never seen nothing that looked like he done. And dressed in the clothes of an undertaker. Face all twisted and curled like something a branding-iron might do if n it got close to a man’s face. I seen him OK. I ain’t ever gonna forget that critter.’
‘That was Iron Eyes,’ Slater spat. ‘I heard of how he looks from other outlaws. Never dreamed that them stories could be true but no two men could look that bad. That was Iron Eyes.’
‘And he’s after us.’ Barker swallowed hard.
Slater ran a hand down the chest of his horse. He knew the animal was spent and needed grub and rest. Two items that both he and his partner were a tad short of. ‘We’ll have to head up into them mountains.’
‘Why?’
‘Cover and grub,’ Slater replied. ‘That forest must have plenty of game and I’m hungry. It’ll also have plenty of grass for the horses. We can use them trees to cover our backs. Ain’t no place to hide out here. Once that scarecrow comes on after us we’ll need all the cover we can get.’
Clem Barker shook his head. ‘Will we be able to reach Providence by cutting on up through there?’
Slater nodded again. ‘I reckon so. We’ll follow this river through the forest and if I’m right it’ll lead us straight to that gold-mining town.’
‘Then what?’
‘There’s a railhead there.’ Slater smiled and gathered up his reins in both hands. ‘We’ll sell the horses and saddles and buy us a couple of tickets out of this damn country. I reckon we could get to Waco.’
Barker bit his lip. ‘Will Iron Eyes quit hunting us then, Whip?’
Whip Slater stepped into a stirrup and eased himself up on top of his tired mount. ‘Maybe.’
Barker hauled his own aching frame back on to his saddle and looked back at the storm once more. ‘How come I feel like I’m already dead meat, Whip?’ Slater spurred. ‘C’mon!’
Both riders steered their horses into the river and towards the forest.
Chapter Eight
Joe Hawkins had barely reached Doc Lowe’s office when the storm unleashed its fury upon San Remo. He led the tall sturdy palomino up into the side alley next to the weathered old building and secured its reins to the porch upright. Then every nerve in his body tautened when a deafening thunderclap erupted directly over the town. The sheriff untied the saddle-bags and was about to step up on to the boardwalk when the rain came. It felt to the old shoulders of the lawman as though he had been caught in a dam-burst. Within a mere heartbeat he was soaked to his long underwear. By the time he had reached the office door and turned its handle he looked as though he had just crawled out of a river.
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‘Damn it all,’ Hawkins protested.
The eyes of the doctor looked up at the bedraggled Hawkins as he closed the door behind him and removed his Stetson. Lowe smiled as the sheriff hung his limp hat on the stand next to the window. Hawkins sniffed and glanced at the doctor and his seated patient.
‘You get them?’ Iron Eyes asked.
‘Yep. I got them,’ Hawkins answered. He walked to the bounty hunter and carefully placed the saddlebags in the outstretched bony hands. ‘Here. I got me soaked as well.’
‘Is my horse OK?’ Iron Eyes asked as he hung the twin satchels across his lap and patted them.
‘He’s OK. A tad spooked by the thunder and all but I tied him up firm to the side post.’ Hawkins moved to the coffee pot on top of the stove. He filled a mug and then took a sip of the hot black beverage. ‘Mighty fine animal that. Never seen a real pure-bred palomino before. Where’d you get it?’
‘South of the border,’ Iron Eyes muttered as the doctor carefully patted the last of the cement dust on to the damp bandages which were firmly wrapped around his fractured skull.
‘Must have cost you a pretty penny,’ Hawkins remarked through the steam of his coffee. ‘I hear they’re worth ten of most saddle horses.’
‘Nope. I never paid one red cent for that critter,’ the bounty hunter told the two men. ‘I done killed me the Mexican that was riding it. A vaquero with mighty fine silver thread stitched into his sombrero, as I recall.’
Both Lowe and Hawkins glanced at one another. Then the sheriff edged closer to the strange man with the even stranger-looking solid bandage around his head. The long hair which hung from beneath the grey skullcap seemed even more bizarre now that the doctor had finished his handiwork. It hung over the broad shoulders and in front of the unseeing eyes like a veil.
‘You killed the owner of that horse?’ Hawkins enquired nervously. ‘Any particular reason why you’d do that, son?’
A twisted smile showed the sharp teeth of the seated bounty hunter.
‘Sure I had me a reason for killing that vaquero. He was trying to kill me.’ Iron Eyes spat the words as though he had just seen the face of the vaquero again. ‘I come on him all peaceable like and he opened up on me for no reason. Started shooting from up there on the back of that big old palomino as if I was a threat to him or something. Took part of my ear off. So I just shot him. It was a clean kill and worth the two bullets I wasted. That horse gotta be worth more than fourteen cents by anyone’s reckoning. Right?’
‘Right,’ Hawkins agreed. ‘Gotta be worth a whole lot more than the price of two bullets.’
‘And the horse?’ Lowe asked curiously. ‘Why’d you take his horse?’
‘My pony had died a few hours earlier and I needed a fresh horse, so I just kinda took that ’un,’ Iron Eyes recalled. He lifted the hair away from his ear beneath the cement cap. ‘Look at that ear. Wouldn’t you have killed someone who done that to you?’
Both men nodded slowly.
‘That must have hurt,’ Hawkins said.
‘Stung a little.’ Iron Eyes allowed his mane to drop and cover the old wound. ‘It weren’t the pain, it was the principle of the thing. You can’t let folks shoot off your ears without doing something about it. Can you?’
‘Sure enough,’ Lowe agreed.
Iron Eyes rubbed his eyes and blinked hard. His eyes still refused to work. ‘When do you figure I’ll be able to see again, Doc? You got my head in this damned heavy vice and I still can’t see nothing.’
Lowe patted the shoulder of the frustrated man. ‘Easy. It’ll take as long as it takes. Could come back after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.’
Iron Eyes clenched both hands until the bones of his fists went white as they lay on top of the saddlebags on his lap. ‘I figure that means you ain’t got a clue. I might be blind for keeps and that don’t sit well in my craw. Not all outlaws stink as well as Kansas Drew did. I need to be able to see. My life ain’t worth a plug nickel otherwise.’
‘Fretting ain’t gonna make you heal faster, son,’ Hawkins said firmly. ‘Patience is a virtue, you know.’
Iron Eyes tilted his head towards the voice of the lawman. ‘I ain’t got a clue what the hell you talking about, Sheriff.’
‘Tell me, Iron Eyes. What exactly happened to your pony that made it up and die?’ Doc Lowe asked. He walked to the enamel basin and started to try and wash the hardened cement from his hands. He added more hot water from the blackened kettle perched on his stove beside the coffee pot and scrubbed his digits feverishly.
‘I shot it. That’s why he died,’ the bounty hunter replied. ‘It was spent and I shot it.’
‘Reckon that’s kinda merciful.’ Lowe sighed.
Iron Eyes pulled a cigar from his inside pocket and placed it between his teeth. He struck a match and inhaled the smoke deeply. ‘Not really. The damn thing almost killed me when it buckled at full gallop. I kicked it a few times but it wouldn’t get up.’
‘So you shot it.’ Hawkins finished the sentence and watched a wry smile etch itself across the horrific features of the thin emaciated man seated a few feet from him.
‘It was a pretty poor pony to start with,’ Iron Eyes recalled. ‘I had me a tussle with an Apache who took exception to my face. He didn’t need the pony after I killed him.’
‘You use them guns of yours a whole lot, boy.’ The sheriff topped up his coffee and sat opposite the bounty hunter as he sucked in more of the strong acrid smoke he seemed to savor.
‘I only kill things that need killing.’ Iron Eyes gripped the cigar between his teeth and then unbuckled the nearer of the saddle-bag satchels. He pulled out a full bottle of whiskey and placed it down on the desk next to his elbow. ‘That ought to cover the cost of the bottle of liquor I seem to have drunk, Doc.’
Lowe gave a smile. ‘I was gonna just add it to my bill, Iron Eyes. But thank you kindly all the same.’
Iron Eyes turned to the sheriff. ‘Kansas Drew was worth a hundred dollars last time I checked, Sheriff. Give that money to Doc here. That ought to settle my debt with some loose change left over.’
Hawkins touched his temple. ‘What about them Barton boys? How much are their rotting hides worth?’
‘Five hundred for the set.’ The bounty hunter sighed. ‘I’ll have that bounty as soon as this town’s bank opens up.’
‘Reckon with that much hard cash you won’t be needing to go on after them two other outlaws,’ Hawkins said. ‘Not for a few weeks anyways.’
A surprised expression covered the face of the man with the cement cap. ‘What you mean?’
‘Ain’t no call for you to be chasing them until that head of yours is mended,’ the sheriff explained. ‘Why risk hurting yourself chasing after them two outlaws?’
‘They nearly killed me, Sheriff.’ Iron Eyes pulled the cigar from his teeth and blew out a line of smoke at the floor. ‘I don’t cotton to folks trying to kill me. Besides they’re still wanted dead or alive. I intend collecting that reward money.’
‘Let me take your horse to the livery and have it bedded down for the night, Iron Eyes,’ Hawkins said as he took another sip of the strong black coffee. ‘You get a room in the hotel and rest up for a while. Maybe when your eyesight comes back—’
‘I don’t hanker to be lying in no hotel room blind,’ the thin figure snarled through cigar smoke. ‘I’ll be a target for any half-witted hombre who wants to try and kill me.’
Lowe managed at last to free his hands of most of the cement. He dried them on a towel, then he strolled back to the seated man. ‘Joe’s right, son. There ain’t no threat to you in the town no more. You killed all the vermin who might have tried to kill you already. Now are you gonna take a room at the hotel for a few days or not?’
Iron Eyes turned to the medical man. ‘Nope. I’m riding out after them two outlaws as soon as I’ve bin paid my bounty.’
Hawkins and Lowe watched as Iron Eyes withdrew another bottle which only had half its contents remainin
g. He pulled its cork and started to down the whiskey.
‘But that rain will wash their horse tracks clean away, son,’ the lawman stated, pointing at the window and the rain which pounded its panes. ‘Even if you could see it’s impossible for anyone to find a trail that’s bin washed clean away by a storm.’
Iron Eyes lowered the bottle from his twisted lips. ‘They can’t git away from me, old-timer. I don’t need no trail to follow their breed.’
‘You don’t?’ Hawkins queried.
The thin trigger finger of the bounty hunter’s left hand tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’m like an old hound dog. I’ll track them by the stink they left.’
‘That ain’t possible.’ Lowe chuckled.
‘It is, Doc!’ Iron Eyes disagreed. ‘Them two outlaws are leaving a scent made from pure fear. I can follow that even with my eyes not working.’
‘But what happens if you do catch up with them and you still can’t see?’ Lowe asked quietly. ‘They might bushwhack you.’
‘They don’t know I’m blind, Doc,’ Iron Eyes said in a low, cold tone which chilled both the other two men. ‘All they know is that the same man who killed their three partners is following. They’re gutless and I ain’t.’
Hawkins slammed his mug down angrily. ‘For heaven’s sake. You’re blind, Iron Eyes. Face the facts. Without rest like Doc recommends that might be permanent. Do you want to be blind forever?’ Iron Eyes downed another long swallow and then rested the bottle on top of the saddle-bags on his lap.
‘My horse can see. He’ll get me to where I need to go and then all I gotta do is shoot them.’
‘It’s suicidal,’ Lowe whispered into the ear of his friend the sheriff. Hawkins nodded in silent agreement.
Iron Eyes continued to drink his whiskey and stare through the blood-soaked strands of his matted hair with eyes which refused to see.
