by Rory Black
Whoever this man was, he was standing directly above the pile of hay that Iron Eyes was beneath.
Iron Eyes moved his right hand slowly. His bony fingers searched for one of his lethal guns. Inch by inch he dared to lower his hand towards one of his deep trail-coat pockets.
It seemed as if he would never locate the gun. Then, as he felt the cold handle of one of his Navy Colts in the palm of his hand, the right leg of the mysterious man was raised.
Before Iron Eyes could do anything, the boot was pressed down hard on to his throat. Then suddenly the sharp twin prongs of a pitchfork pushed the hay aside and were pressed into his chest.
‘Just stay nice and quiet, boy!’ a voice whispered over him. ‘Don’t make a sound! We don’t want to let them varmints know where you’re hiding, do we?’
The eyes of the bounty hunter flashed up at the face of the man who had him pinned down. He was old-looking by usual standards, but well built. He was bearded and strong enough to make Iron Eyes helpless.
‘Who are ya?’ the bounty hunter managed to say.
‘The name’s Hanney. Duke Hanney.’
‘Who are you, Hanney?’
‘I’m the stableman.’ Hanney continued to whisper. ‘This is my livery.’
‘What ya want of me? Rent?’ Iron Eyes croaked.
‘You got a smart mouth for someone hurt as bad as you are. We got us some talking to do, boy!’ Hanney said in a hushed tone. ‘There’s a few things that you ought to know. Things that might put the fire back in ya belly.’
Hanney eased his boot off his victim’s windpipe. It was just enough to allow Iron Eyes to speak more clearly.
‘What kinda things do I need to know, old-timer? I already know that I killed the sheriff of this damn town. What else have I gotta learn?’
‘Them men running around with stars pinned to their vests ain’t really the law!’ the old man said. ‘You ain’t killed the sheriff!’
‘What?’ Iron Eyes blinked hard.
‘They ain’t lawmen!’ the man repeated slowly. ‘They’re trail trash!’
‘Are you sure?’
‘They killed the real law!’ Hanney sighed. ‘Then they took their place. The critter who called himself the sheriff was just the leader of these outlaws!’
‘Can you prove that?’
The man nodded.
‘I could show you the graves, boy!’
Iron Eyes stared at Hanney. The old-timer leaned over him with the sharp pitchfork in his weathered hands. The bounty hunter did not know whether he could or should believe him. Was this a trap thought up by the deputies to get him down from the hay loft and into the sights of their guns?
‘Are you tellin’ me the truth, amigo?’ the bounty hunter asked in a low drawl. ‘I’m too darn sick to be lied to.’
The man leaned closer to his helpless victim.
‘I ain’t lying to ya, Iron Eyes! There ain’t no call for me to lie. You gotta understand one thing, I’m probably the only friend you got in this here town!’
The bounty hunter felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If these men were outlaws, as Hanney said, then they were fair game for his lethal talents.
‘Is that deputy still down there hiding in the horse-stall, Hanney?’
‘Yep. That’s why I’m whisperin’!’
‘Why would you go against these hombres and help me?’ Iron Eyes studied the face as the older man absorbed his question. ‘Why?’
‘My brother Tom was the real sheriff in this town!’ the man replied. ‘Until Payne and his cronies rode into Rio Concho, that is!’
Iron Eyes knew pain when he saw it. Pain had been with him for most of his life. He recognized it in the wrinkled face above him.
‘I believe ya!’ he said.
The pitchfork was pulled away from his flesh. Iron Eyes struggled into a seated position and rested his back against the wooden wall. The man knelt down beside him and moved his lips close to Iron Eyes’ left ear.
‘I can help ya, Iron Eyes,’ Hanney said. ‘I can help ya get the better of these back-shooting varmints.’
‘I’m grateful, Hanney. Right now I need all the help I can get. I’m hurt bad.’
Hanney pulled the torn bloodstained coat and shirt away from the bullet hole in the bounty hunter’s shoulder. He gritted what was left of his teeth.
‘That bullet has gotta be cut out, boy! The wound’s infected.’
Iron Eyes raised his leg and pulled the Bowie knife from the neck of his boot. He smiled when he saw the expression of the man seated next to him alter.
‘Don’t fret none, Hanney!’ Iron Eyes said. He handed the weapon to the livery man.
‘What ya giving me ya knife for?’
‘Dig that bullet out!’ Iron Eyes muttered under his breath.
‘You serious?’
Iron Eyes nodded.
‘Dead serious! Cut that lead out of me!’
‘B . . . but.’
‘Now!’
Duke Hanney held the knife in his shaking hands and tried to change the subject.
‘You reckon you could get the better of them bastards?’
Iron Eyes sighed.
‘On a good day, Hanney! Is this a good day?’
‘With me helpin’ ya, it could be.’
‘You say that they’re all outlaws?’
‘Not the townsfolk. Just the sheriff and the deputies,’ the livery stable man corrected. ‘They come in here about two months back and killed the real law. Buried them out on the prairie.’
‘Why?’
‘Beats me,’ Hanney admitted. ‘They must have their reasons though. Maybe they needs this town. Maybe they have to have some kinda control over it.’
‘How far is the Mexican border from here?’
‘Five miles or so.’
‘How come the town’s menfolk are helping them?’
‘Money!’ Hanney shrugged. ‘Payne and his boys seemed to have a lot of it somehow. They bought up all the town scum easy. The honest men don’t stick their noses out of their homes much.’
The bounty hunter turned and looked straight at the man beside him.
‘Why didn’t ya wire somebody and tell them what was going on here, Hanney?’
‘The telegraph don’t work, Iron Eyes. They cut all the wires before they killed Tom and his deputies. They knew what they were doing OK. Had it all planned out. There ain’t no way to contact anyone. This town’s a long ways from anywhere.’
‘Does the stage come through here?’
‘Every Friday around noon.’ The livery man shrugged. ‘Payne always made sure he and his deputies were waiting at the depot when it arrived. None of the honest townsfolk have dared to open their mouths to the stagecoach drivers or guards.’
The picture painted by the words of the older man was not a pretty one. Iron Eyes rubbed his face and pushed his long limp hair off his scarred features.
‘This is gonna be a tough one.’
‘But you’re Iron Eyes, boy! There ain’t no man who can stand up to you! I’ve heard all them stories about you. They say that every outlaw in the West fears Iron Eyes! Besides, you’re the only hope the decent folks in Rio Concho got left, son!’
‘I’m that good, huh?’
‘No. Not good, Iron Eyes,’ the man corrected. ‘Bad! You’re that bad!’
Iron Eyes gritted his teeth and almost smiled.
‘Reckon ya right! Now dig that lead out of me and I’ll get to work.’
Hanney swallowed hard and moved the pointed tip of the Bowie knife close to the inflamed bullet wound. His hand shook. Their eyes met.
‘I ain’t never cut a man open before, Iron Eyes,’ he admitted. ‘What if I makes a mistake? I could do a lotta damage with this big old knife.’
‘You ain’t gonna make no mistakes, Hanney,’ Iron Eyes said confidently. ‘I trust ya.’
‘I wish I trusted me,’ the old man whispered.
‘Do it for ya brother!’ the bounty hunter said. ‘
I ain’t gonna be able to get justice for Tom with this lump of lead in me!’
Duke Hanney inhaled deeply and mustered every ounce of his nerve.
‘This’ll hurt darn bad, Iron Eyes. If n ya scream out, them critters will swarm all over us like flies on an outhouse within seconds!’ he warned.
‘I ain’t gonna make one sound! Now start digging!’
True to his word, Iron Eyes did not move a muscle. He remained perfectly still. Even as Hanney pushed the tip of the sharp blade into the inflamed bullet wound, Iron Eyes made no noise.
He glanced at Hanney and nodded. The relief was evident in every scar upon his hideous face.
Like an erupting volcano, green poison squirted out as the stableman continued to search with the Bowie knife for the small lead bullet.
The throbbing pain had suddenly stopped.
Iron Eyes continued to stare straight ahead until the livery man sat back and pushed the bullet under his nose. The bounty hunter looked at it, then at his shoulder and lastly into the bearded face.
‘I’d have thought there’d be more blood, old-timer.’
Hanney dropped the small piece of lead into Iron Eyes’ palm.
‘Reckon all that poison kinda used up most of ya blood, boy!’
‘Dig out every bit of that poison, Hanney!’ Iron Eyes growled. ‘I don’t cotton to this thing flaring up again when I’m killing.’
Duke Hanney pushed the knife in again and scraped at the injured flesh.
‘I reckon it’s done, Iron Eyes,’ he said.
The bounty hunter nodded.
‘Got any whiskey to pour into this hole?’
‘Nope.’
‘Salt?’ Iron Eyes pressed.
The livery stableman rubbed his neck and then pointed at a box near the loft door.
‘I got me a lump of salt I use on the horses over there.’
‘Good enough.’ Iron Eyes gritted his teeth. ‘Cut a pellet of it to fit this hole, Hanney. This wound needs pluggin’.’
‘It’ll burn like crazy.’
Iron Eyes nodded again as he took the knife from the hand of the older man and looked at its smeared blade. He rubbed the knife clean on his pants’ leg.
‘Good! The hotter the better. I need to be in a killin’ frame of mind, old-timer!’
Chapter Ten
No monstrous demon from the fiery bowels of hell itself could have carved a more fearful sight than did the bounty hunter as he moved silently around the high loft, ever closer to his goal. Iron Eyes had crawled through the scattered hay until he was directly above the stall where he knew the deadly outlaw was hiding. The stall was bathed in dark shadows, but that could not disguise the truth from Iron Eyes.
Iron Eyes had the scent of his prey in his nostrils. He gripped the handle of his Bowie knife in his bony right hand and looked down at the man crouching below his high vantage point.
It was a ten-foot drop to the stable floor, but Iron Eyes had no fear.
His cold steel-colored eyes glanced across the distance to where the livery stableman waited for his signal to move.
Iron Eyes waved the knife. Hanney got to his feet and walked to the top of the ladder.
‘What ya doin’ up there, old man?’ the outlaw with the deputy star pinned to his vest called up from the horse-stall when he saw Duke Hanney resting his hands on the top of the ladder. ‘You bin in that loft too damn long.’
‘I’m just gettin’ hay for the horses!’
‘Ya took long enough!’
‘Shut the hell up!’ Hanney spat.
‘I’ll shut you up for keeps!’ The outlaw stood and shook a clenched fist up at the defiant livery man. ‘Just wait ‘till ya gets back down here!’
‘Reckon all ya gotta do is wait for me to turn my back and then you’ll start shootin’!’ Hanney kicked a bale of hay over the edge of the loft platform. It hit the stable floor. The horses inside the dark interior of the large building all whinnied at the same time and fought against their restraints.
Shod hoofs kicked at everything.
The noise was deafening.
‘Quiet these nags down, old man!’ the outlaw shouted above the ear-splitting noise.
Duke Hanney smiled and watched as the bounty hunter started to rise. Iron Eyes straightened up to his full height.
He leapt from the loft.
Like a mountain lion seeking its chosen prey, the bounty hunter flew through the air towards his target. Both his boots hit the neck and shoulders of the outlaw. The two men crashed into the ground. Iron Eyes fell to the side with the knife in his hand. He watched the stunned outlaw roll over on his shoulder and drag his lethal gun from its holster.
Before the outlaw could fire, the bounty hunter drew his arm back and unleashed his weapon. He threw the Bowie knife straight and true.
His aim was deadly accurate.
The outlaw staggered back when the long, honed blade entered his chest with ferocious force. Only its handle guard stopped it from going all the way through his lean frame.
He hit the wooden partition of the horse-stall and slid to the floor. A trail of gore covered the wood.
Iron Eyes leaned over, grabbed hold of the knife handle and pulled it clear of the dead outlaw’s chest. The body slid inertly on to its side.
‘Ya get him, boy?’ Hanney asked. He descended the ladder and moved quickly across the stables to the gaunt figure. ‘Ya kill the evil critter?’
‘I killed him OK!’ Iron Eyes wiped the blood off his knife and slid it down into his boot. He gritted his teeth and grabbed the dead outlaw’s hair.
‘Dead centre!’ Hanney enthused as his wrinkled eyes stared at the bloodstained shirt. ‘Never seen anyone throw a knife like that before, boy!’
‘Give me a hand, Hanney. Grab his legs. We’d better hide this carcass!’
Both men hauled the dead weight back into the shadows and covered it with hay.
‘Ya gonna try and get the drop on the rest of them dirty varmints, Iron Eyes?’ Hanney asked as they moved to the tall open doors.
Iron Eyes leaned against the doorframe and squinted out into the sun-baked streets of Rio Concho. He knew that there was probably bounty on all the outlaws who controlled the remote town. Yet who were they really? And how much were they actually worth?
‘I wonder if there are any wanted posters in the sheriff’s office, Hanney?’ he muttered thoughtfully. ‘There ain’t nothing worse than killing wanted outlaws and not knowing how much money’s on their heads. Did ya brother Tom keep any wanted posters in his office, Hanney?’
Hanney gripped Iron Eyes’ arm and pulled him around.
Their eyes met.
‘Steady on, boy! Ya ain’t seriously thinkin’ of going back to the sheriff’s office, are ya?’
‘Yep, I sure am. Maybe ya brother Tom had a pile of posters tucked away in his desk or someplace. These varmints have to be worth something. I wanna know how much.’
‘Don’t be loco!’ the stableman pleaded. ‘They’ll kill ya on sight! Ya have to lie low until sundown, boy! Think about it, Iron Eyes. Ya lost a lotta blood. You gotta try and get some strength back in that pitiful body of yours. Right?’
‘I feel OK!’
‘But there are too many of them!’ Hanney insisted.
‘I’ve faced more and come out the winner!’ Iron Eyes ran his fingers through his limp, sweat-soaked hair.
‘Wait until dark. OK?’
‘How long is it until sundown, old-timer?’
‘Not long. No more than a couple of hours, Iron Eyes,’ the older man answered. ‘Come with me. You can hide out in my cabin until then. It’s out back. What ya say?’
The sharp-eared bounty hunter could still hear the men who were searching for him. Iron Eyes listened to the sounds of those who still hunted him in the streets of Rio Concho drifting on the warm afternoon air.
‘Ya got got any whiskey in that cabin of yours, Hanney?’ He asked.
‘Yep! I also got vittles. I could rustle ya up a dand
y meal if n you’d like?’
‘The whiskey will do just fine!’ Iron Eyes followed the older man through the stable towards the rear door. ‘But when the sun sets, I’m headed back to the sheriff’s office! I like to know who I’m killin’, Hanney!’
Both men ran across the open ground to the small cabin.
Chapter Eleven
Marshal Casey Layne stood beside his drinking mount and stared at the terrified face of Herb Snape. Steam slowly hissed from unseen valves along the length of the engine. The mighty locomotive had not been an easy catch, but the lawmen had somehow managed to halt it before the engineer had reached the steep gradient that led between the tall red mesas.
‘I’d leave them outlaws be if I was you, Marshal,’ Snape advised.
‘How many of them were there exactly?’ Layne asked. He watched his deputies gathering the extra canteens from the senior conductor.
‘I think there were seven, Marshal,’ Snape replied. ‘But I might be wrong. I was plumb scared. Too scared to count. We all thought that they was gonna shoot us.’
Layne rubbed his chin.
‘You’re a lucky bunch. Snake Adams usually kills all witnesses to his crimes.’
‘They made me leave the baggage car back there.’ Snape indicated with a nod of his wet brow.
‘Anyone in it?’
‘The guard.’ Snape gulped. ‘We heard a real loud explosion a few minutes after we left there. It shook everything for miles.’
‘Reckon that guard is dead meat,’ Donner said bluntly.
‘So old Snake Adams was after something in the baggage car, huh?’ Layne said. ‘Was you carrying bullion or something valuable back there, friend?’
Snape shook his head.
‘I don’t think so. We had no strongbox aboard.’
‘Odd. Why would Snake waste his time if there was nothing valuable in that car?’ The marshal was puzzled. ‘It don’t add up, boys.’
‘Maybe he made a mistake, Marshal,’ Walker offered.
Layne glanced at the deputy.
‘He don’t make that kinda mistake, Josh.’
‘Maybe they held up the wrong train,’ Donner suggested. ‘They all look the same, don’t they?’
Layne shook his head.
‘If Snake Adams held up this train, you can bet the farm that this is exactly the train he intended to rob. Adams never made a mistake in his worthless life. Nope, this was the train he intended to rob. There must have bin something in that car he wanted. Something he had to have.’