by Rory Black
‘That was hours back.’ Iron Eyes blew a line of smoke at the ceiling. ‘He shouldn’t have bothered. I told him that horse is better when he’s ornery.’
Lowe sipped at his coffee and leaned back on his chair. He watched the quiet figure who chewed on the acrid black cigar thoughtfully. The cement head-guard was crude but it seemed to be working, he thought. It was holding Iron Eyes’ shattered skull together and that was all that mattered.
Lowe looked at the money his patient had placed on the desk. ‘I was wondering about that money. How come you ain’t pocketed it, boy?’
‘I got me all I need.’ Iron Eyes leaned back. ‘Money makes a bounty hunter soft. I gotta be sharp like my knife if I’m gonna survive. You keep it.’
The older man placed his cup down next to the money and picked the bills up. He had never seen so much money at one time before. ‘I don’t need it. Take it now.’
‘It’s yours,’ Iron Eyes growled.
‘If you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
Lowe cleared his throat and then pushed the money into his pants pocket. ‘Then I thank you kindly.’
Suddenly Iron Eyes blinked hard and long and then aimed his sightless eyes at the weathered old man. ‘My eyes are burning like fury, Doc. Is that normal?’
The doctor stood and carefully placed his hands on the bounty hunter’s face. He squinted hard into the bullet-colored eyes and gave out a sound similar to ones he had made as he ate his dinner. ‘This might just be a good sign, boy. A mighty good sign.’
Iron Eyes listened to the doctor as he walked across the room to his cabinet. ‘Where you going?’
‘I got me some drops in here which might help.’ Lowe answered. ‘Might be that them eyes of yours are starting to come to life again. Maybe that brain of yours is starting to wake up again and send out its messages to your eyes.’
The thin figure remained seated as Doc Lowe closed the cabinet door and returned to his side.
‘You mean I’ll be able to see again soon?’
‘I’d not bet against it.’ Cautiously Lowe positioned the bounty hunter’s head to lean back, and pulled down on one of the lower lids. ‘Don’t move. I’m gonna put a few drops of this stuff in each of your eyes. It might sting but it’ll help.’
Iron Eyes felt the drops going into both eyes in turn and then felt the stinging. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but he refused to utter any sound.
‘I told you it would sting,’ Lowe said as he sat down again.
‘My eyes are on fire, Doc. What was that stuff? Snake oil?’
‘That’s a good sign,’ Lowe said hesitantly. ‘I think that the nerves are starting to come back to life.’
Iron Eyes opened his eyes and blinked hard. His expression gave nothing away to the old man.
‘Well?’ Doc Lowe enquired.
‘Damn it all. I can see a dim light,’ the bounty hunter said. He rose to his full height and stared towards the front of the office. ‘I can see the sunlight out there. Nothing clear but I can see something.’
Lowe clapped his hands together. ‘We’re on the mend, son!’
Iron Eyes was lured to the front of the office by the blurred images out in the street. He found the door handle and opened the door. He stood staring out as he saw the blurred ghostly images of two horses and a man approaching him.
‘That you, Sheriff?’ Iron Eyes questioned.
‘Yep,’ Hawkins replied as he stood below the boardwalk. In his hands he held the reins not only of the palomino stallion but his own sturdy saddle horse. ‘I brung the horses.’
The bounty hunter tilted his head. ‘Horses?’
‘I’m tagging along with you, son,’ Hawkins said firmly.
‘Why?’
‘Ain’t too sure.’ The sheriff looped the reins around the hitching pole and secured them. ‘Reckon I figured that you might need the help of a fat old man. Until them eyes of yours start working again, that is.’
A twisted smile came to the face of Iron Eyes. ‘You get the whiskey, old-timer?’
‘Five bottles.’ Hawkins pushed the brim of his Stetson off his face. ‘And some jerky.’
‘Jerky, huh?’ Iron Eyes cautiously stepped down to the street. ‘I’ll stick to the whiskey.’
‘Suits me.’ The sheriff scratched his cheek.
‘Let’s ride!’
Chapter Thirteen
Darkness had returned to the forest. The well-disguised miners had deliberately waited until sundown before returning to the camp for fear that too much daylight would betray them. Yet they had already been seen by the one member of the tribe who had the power and will to take his revenge. Hakatan knew the truth about the men who had viciously beaten and killed his people whilst pretending to be reincarnations of their ancient gods. The jubilant miners led the outlaws’ horses back into the camp to join their other animals. For some moments none of them noticed anything wrong but that was soon to alter when Will Hayes realized that the large bonfire set between the large building and the smaller ones had not been lit.
The master illusionist paused by the entrance to the gold-filled wigwam as the five others walked in his wake. Hayes raised a hand. The others stopped and turned to look where his masked face was staring.
‘What’s wrong, Will?’ Tobey asked.
‘Them natives ain’t fired up the bonfire,’ Hayes said, his throat dry.
One by one the miners all turned and looked to the large mound of kindling. Since their first encounter with the reclusive Indians they had never seen the camp shrouded in darkness before.
Hayes walked a few steps away from the entrance. His eyes studied the small huts which dotted the entire area. Eventually it dawned upon him that they were all empty.
‘Where are they?’ Hayes asked fearfully.
‘I got me a feeling things ain’t right.’ Rowe was first to cock his rifle and rest it against his hip as the others followed suit.
Hayes swallowed hard and cast his mask aside. ‘They can’t be far. We oughta go round ’em up and make sure they keep doing what we tell ’em to do.’
The others all agreed, with the exception of Clint Henson, who moved to their leader’s side. ‘I’m for us heading out right now, Will. I reckon them Injuns are gonna hit us hard.’
Hayes rubbed his whiskered chin thoughtfully. ‘You reckon, Clint? Maybe they all just run off.’
Henson shook his head. ‘Nope. Somehow I think they’ve figured out that we ain’t what they thought we was. It might just be payback time.’
‘How?’ Hayes asked a little alarmed. ‘Clint’s right.’ Rance Bean walked out from the others. He had heard something and trained his Winchester in the direction of the sound. ‘We oughta start packing them animals with gold before trouble does come looking for us.’
Hayes did not know what to do. For the first time in his life he was quite at a loss. ‘What you looking at, Rance?’
Bean raised his rifle and aimed into the depths of the undergrowth. ‘There’s something out there.’
Will Hayes turned and was about to address the others when he heard a sound that chilled him to the bone. There was nothing like the noise a spinning tomahawk made as it cut through the air in pursuit of its chosen target. Hayes spun on his heels just as the Indian hatchet hit Bean in the middle of his broad chest. The miner staggered. His rifle fired into the ground and then he fell into the mud.
The startled men looked up and saw the painted faces in the trees.
The pitiful remnants of the remaining Indians had returned with Hakatan at their head.
The elderly brave gave out a spine-chilling call. Although the miners did not understand a word of the strange language, they knew exactly what Hakatan meant.
He had just declared war.
Chapter Fourteen
Only the light of the moon and stars illuminated the camp as the battle progressed on for what seemed like an eternity to the trapped five remaining false gods. Blistering rounds of awesome for
ce erupted from their rifle barrels as the prospectors who huddled just inside the entrance to the large wigwam kept on shooting. Arrows already riddled its walls and continued flying from all directions straight and true towards them. Will Hayes knelt beside his younger cronies and desperately tried to work out what their next move should be. Yet for all his prowess as a magician, Hayes was unable to think of a trick which would bring their attackers to their knees. He could not understand why the naive natives had revolted now.
‘Why now?’ Hayes muttered to himself as the other miners kept on firing their deadly weapons at their unseen attackers in the dense undergrowth. ‘What changed to give them the vinegar to fight back?’
‘If’n you’re gonna think of something to git us out of this mess, Will,’ Brown yelled over the noise of their gunfire, ‘I sure wish you’d do it fast.’
‘We ain’t got enough ammunition to last more than another hour or so,’ Henson screamed down at their stunned leader. ‘You got any tricks up your sleeve?’
Tobey dropped down beside the shocked older man and slapped him hard across the face. ‘Wake up, Will. Get your rifle and start shooting before them critters get lucky again.’
Hayes’ head rocked as a second blow caught him hard. He blinked, then angrily looked at Tobey. His left hand prevented the third slap from reaching its target.
‘Who the hell do you think you’re hitting, Bob?’ he snarled.
Tobey smiled. ‘Welcome back. Now help us. You got a million tricks in that head of yours and we sure need one right now or we’ll all end up skewered like Rance. For pity’s sake think of something, Will.’
Hayes swung around on his knees and stared round the edge of the crude entrance at the arrows which continued to fly at them. Then he cast his attention on the body of Bean lying in a pool of his own gore. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as his mind at last began to work.
‘Git some matches,’ Hayes ordered. Tobey pushed himself up against the shoulder of the older man.
‘Matches?’
‘Yeah, matches.’ Will Hayes slowly nodded as his eyes focused on the large mound of kindling. He raised his hand and pointed at it. ‘I want that fire lit up.’
‘Why?’ Tobey asked anxiously as he withdrew a box of matches from his vest pocket and handed them to Hayes. ‘If that fire’s lit up it’ll make us even easier to see. Their arrows ain’t bin too far from the mark already. If that fire’s raging we’ll be sitting ducks.’
Hayes gave a slight shake of his head. ‘You don’t understand, Bob. That fire will save our bacon.’
‘How?’ Tobey questioned as his fellow miners kept on vainly firing their rifles at their hidden attackers. Attackers who were moving through the undergrowth after unloosening each arrow.
Hayes turned his head and looked at the troubled Tobey. ‘Get the rest of the black powder together, Bob. I’ll show you how we make them critters quit. They’re all gutless. It’s gotta be that chief of theirs who has stirred them up against us. He must have told them that we ain’t gods. We gotta prove him wrong. I have to bring the rest of his people back to their knees.’
‘Their knees?’ Tobey repeated the words.
Will Hayes got back to his feet as Rowe rolled the remaining barrel of black powder towards him from the back of the large hut where the rest of their belongings were stacked. Hayes glanced at Tobey and nodded.
‘Yep. Their knees. How else they gonna pray to us, Bob?’
A cloudless night sky loomed across the vast empty range above the two riders as they forged on towards the forested mountains, which came closer with every stride of the two horses. The trail had been long and rugged for the two horsemen as they guided their mounts across the barren terrain towards the distant peaks. Hawkins hung close to the silent Iron Eyes as the emaciated rider allowed his powerful palomino to find its own pace. Whether the bounty hunter was steering the stallion his fellow rider could not tell. There appeared to be no movement in the man clad in undertaker’s clothing.
The sheriff had been on many a long ride during his career as a starpacker but never before had he allowed a blind man to lead the way. Hawkins closed the distance between his horse and the big palomino until they were riding side by side. He kept looking at the moonlit face of his companion. A face which bore little resemblance to that of any other man he had ever set eyes upon during his long life.
‘You sure they went this way, son?’ the sheriff eventually asked. ‘I ain’t seen no hoof tracks at all.’
‘The storm washed them away,’ Iron Eyes muttered.
‘But are you sure this is the right trail?’ Hawkins persisted.
‘Yep. I’m dead sure, old-timer,’ the bounty hunter said without turning his head. ‘Trust me.’
Hawkins looked all around them. The eerie bluish light of the moon and myriad stars gave the range an unholy feel about it to the nervous lawman. Hawkins raised the collar of his coat and shivered.
‘They could have gone anywhere,’ he pointed out. ‘Maybe they rode east towards Waco?’
‘Nope! They didn’t head for Waco. They went the way we’re headed, old-timer,’ Iron Eyes said in a low, calm drawl. ‘Have a little faith in me. I’ll take you right to their stinking hides.’
The lawman gave out a chuckle. ‘You certain about that? Not a single doubt in that cement-cased skull of yours?’
‘Nope. Not one little doubt at all.’ Iron Eyes rubbed his eyes and looked straight ahead. He could see images illuminated by the bright moon. Images which were slowly becoming clearer as the night progressed.
‘I must be loco tagging along with you,’ Hawkins said with a shrug.
‘I figured that out back at San Remo,’ the bounty hunter replied. ‘Only a loco bean would want to ride with me.’
Hawkins rubbed his belly. ‘Ain’t we gonna stop and make camp for the night? I’m hungry and cold.’
‘Ain’t no time,’ Iron Eyes muttered. ‘Take a swig of some of my whiskey.’
‘I might just do that, you know?’
Without warning Iron Eyes eased back on his reins and stopped his stallion. The older rider did the same.
‘Why you stop?’ Hawkins asked. He pulled a bottle of the fiery liquor from his saddlebag and pulled its cork. ‘Change your mind about making camp?’
The long left arm of the bounty hunter lifted up from the saddle horn it had been gripping. A thin finger pointed out into the darkness ahead of them. ‘There,’ Iron Eyes said.
After taking a mouthful of whiskey, Hawkins lifted himself up until he was balancing in his stirrups. He strained to see what the thin man was aiming his finger at.
‘I don’t see nothing,’ he admitted. He replaced the cork into the neck of the bottle. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘Neither do I,’ Iron Eyes said. His head turned slowly to face the sheriff. ‘It ain’t my eyes I’m heeding, old-timer. It’s my nose and ears.’
‘What?’ Hawkins sat down again, replaced the bottle into his saddle-bag satchel and gathered up his loose reins in his gloved hands. He looked at the gruesome face of the horseman. ‘You telling me that you can smell and hear them?’
‘Not them,’ the bounty hunter corrected quietly. ‘Their carcasses and the animals that are feeding off them, Sheriff.’
The head of the lawman jolted back to where the bony finger had been pointing. He tried to hear and failed. He then sniffed the air but still could not detect whatever it was Iron Eyes had been indicating.
‘You reckon they’re dead? Slater and Barker are lying dead out there?’
Iron Eyes lowered his arm and placed his hand back on top of the horn of his saddle. He tapped his spurs again. ‘Something’s sure dead out there. It’s either them or some other poor critters who ran out of luck a few hours back.’
Hawkins urged his horse on and followed the stallion as it walked cautiously ahead. ‘How could they be dead?’
‘Beats the hell out of me. Sheriff,’ the bounty hunter replied. ‘But one thing I know for
sure is that something’s dead up yonder. Bet your silver dollar it’s them.’
‘I might be loco but I’m not gonna bet against you, Iron Eyes,’ the sheriff said.
‘Good.’ The bounty hunter increased his pace by stabbing his spurs a few times. The lawman slapped the ends of his long reins across the shoulders of his saddle horse and caught up to the now galloping palomino.
‘Hey. Are you sure you can’t see, boy?’ Hawkins shouted out across the distance between the two thundering animals.
Iron Eyes did not reply.
Chapter Fifteen
The explosions came quick and fast after Hayes had ignited the massive bonfire into life with a well-aimed flaming torch. The natives had no answer to the black powder missiles thrown into the flames by the miners. Hayes had used his own well-worn shirt to make a handful of packages filled with the deadly explosive powder. His men had expertly cast them into the leaping flames to create the diversion the master magician had designed.
The exploding balls of black powder had shaken the camp and filled the entire area with choking smoke.
That was all the five men had required to free themselves from the large wigwam and rush out unseen by the Indians. Within a few heart-stopping seconds the heavily armed miners had managed to locate and kill a half-dozen of the stunned bowmen.
Unable to contain his emotions Hakatan had bravely rushed out from his hiding-place with a tomahawk in his hand. He had charged at a speed which belied his age towards the smug-featured Hayes who held on to his smoking rifle in readiness to kill once more. But the vengeful wailing of the old Indian had betrayed him and alerted Hayes. Hakatan had not managed to reach his chosen target before all five of the prospectors had turned their rifles and fired at once. The bullets cut into the racing Indian and lifted his frail body off the ground. He tumbled over and over again across the wet ground, then slid helplessly into the river.
As soon as the tribal elder had disappeared into the foaming white water the entire area fell into silence. It was as if the tribe’s heart had stopped beating.
