by Rory Black
‘Why don’t you just shoot me?’ Russell asked through blood-stained teeth. ‘Just put a gun to my head and pull its trigger.’
Delmer drew one of his guns and aimed at Russell’s head.
‘I’ll grant your wish if you like, old timer,’ he said coldly. ‘Nothing would give me more pleasure than killing the critter who paid out the bounty on Mason’s head.’
‘I just paid out the reward money,’ Russell sighed heavily as more blood trailed from his mouth. ‘I had nothing to do with killing your brother, Holt.’
Delmer pushed the barrel closer to the sheriff.
‘But you paid the critter who did kill him, Sheriff,’ he snarled. ‘That’s almost as bad in my book.’
‘Should I stomp him, Delmer?’ Spike asked as he neared the exhausted lawman. ‘I’d crush him until he was nothing but gravy.’
‘Patience, Spike boy,’ Delmer said as he eyed his brothers above the seated sheriff. ‘There ain’t no hurry. We got us all the time in the world.’
Suddenly the eldest of the Holt clan jerked his wrist forward and slammed the barrel of his .45 into the temple of their helpless victim.
Russell saw a white flash as he rocked on his backside. His watery eyes stared up at Delmer.
‘I give up, boy,’ he said. ‘You win.’
A devious smile crossed the face of the hardened outlaw as he stood above Russell. He leaned forward.
‘What was the name of the bastard that killed Mason?’ he shouted into the face of the defeated lawman. ‘What was his name and which way did him and his fancy woman take when they left this town?’
The blistering sun burned into the bearded face of the elderly sheriff as he looked at the man he knew could end his misery by squeezing on his trigger.
‘Why’d you wanna know, Holt?’ he asked. ‘Your brother’s dead. Nothing can bring him back.’
A fury like nothing Delmer had ever felt before erupted in the guts of Holt. Even his watching brothers were shocked by the sudden explosion of their elder.
Like a rabid dog hell-bent on destruction, Delmer gripped Russell’s bandanna and then lifted the lawman off the sand and dragged him back toward the trough. He powerfully dunked the old man’s head into the water.
As Russell instinctively thrashed his arms around in a desperate bid to try and free himself from a watery grave, Delmer kept the battered and bruised lawman submerged. Bubbles rose around the head of the sheriff and slowly diminished in number until they stopped. Only then did Delmer haul his helpless victim out of the trough.
More dead than alive, Russell stared pitifully at the man who had his very existence in his grip. The weaker the lawman became, the broader Delmer’s grin spread across his face.
‘Not so feisty now, are you?’ Holt taunted.
The ruthless outlaw released his grip and allowed the sheriff to slump beside the side of the trough as water continued to lash over him from the rim of the casket of water.
‘You’ve beaten me, Holt,’ Russell admitted as he sat limply at the feet of the hardened outlaw. He stared helplessly up at the three wanted men.
Delmer placed the barrel of his six-shooter against the temple of the lawman again. The cold steel braced the older man’s attention.
‘This is your last chance, old timer,’ he said. ‘I’m warning you. This time you answer me or I’ll separate your damn head from your body.’
Russell nodded submissively.
‘I savvy, boy.’
Delmer glanced triumphantly at his brothers and then returned his attention to the sheriff. He chuckled like a child who had just deceived his elders.
‘Who was the varmint that killed our brother?’ he snarled into the bleeding face of the man who was being held by his bandanna above the six-foot long trough. ‘Answer me.’
Russell sat on the sand as blood and drool dripped from his mouth. He could feel the gun pressing into his skull. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He licked his lips and inhaled as best he could.
‘OK. I’ll talk,’ the lawman managed to say through a deluge of blood as it trailed down his chin. ‘Just don’t hit me any more.’
Delmer straightened up but kept his deadly six-shooter aimed at the helpless Russell.
‘Who killed Mason?’ he yelled.
‘Iron Eyes,’ Russell stated as he rubbed his sleeve across his face. ‘He said his name was Iron Eyes.’
For the first time since they had learned of their brother’s death, they had a name for the man who had brought his carcass into town. The trouble was, they had all heard the name before. It was the name of the most feared bounty hunter in the West. A name feared by every man with a bounty on their head.
Delmer glanced at his brothers.
‘It was Iron Eyes, boys.’ he drily said.
A look of astonishment filled Spike’s face.
‘He’s real?’ he gasped in terror. ‘I thought Iron Eyes was just a legend folks scared kids with.’
The sheriff glanced through swollen eyes at the confused outlaw and feebly pointed his bleeding hand.
‘He’s real enough, son,’ Russell coughed. ‘He’s the most fearsome critter I ever seen in all my days. He looked like the Devil himself.’
‘What was the name of the dame with him?’ Caleb asked.
Russell shook his head. ‘Damned if I know. She just said she was his woman. I didn’t hanker to talk with either of them and that’s why I paid the reward money even though I ain’t meant to.’
Delmer pondered on the veteran lawman’s words.
‘Iron Eyes scared you so much you dished out the bounty on Mason’s head?’ Caleb queried naively. ‘Does he look that bad?’
‘Worse,’ the sheriff answered. ‘Nobody can imagine what it’s like looking Iron Eyes in the face.’
Delmer toyed with his six-shooter as he listened.
Russell tilted his head back as blood ran from the corners of his mouth. ‘There was no way that I was gonna argue with Iron Eyes, son. I feared that he’d kill me if he didn’t get his blood money.’
Spike scratched his head, ‘Are you serious?’
‘Damn right, sonny,’ Russell spat blood at the ground. ‘He told me he wanted the money and I knew that if I didn’t pay up, he’d just kill me too.’
‘Holy cow,’ Caleb looked to their elder brother. ‘What the hell is this Iron Eyes critter, Delmer? He don’t sound like no ordinary critter to me.’
Delmer rubbed his brow and studied the expression on the swollen features of the man at their feet. The sheriff was telling the truth and they all knew it.
‘I don’t care how ugly Iron Eyes is, boys,’ he said. ‘I’m gonna make him pay for killing Mason.’
The younger Holts moved closer to Delmer.
‘You reckon that’s wise?’ Spike trembled.
‘He sounds even worse than all them stories we’ve heard about him, Delmer,’ Caleb added as he rubbed his neck. ‘Mason was fast with his guns, but Iron Eyes must be a whole lot faster.’
‘He must have tricked Mason,’ Delmer stated. ‘I bet this Iron Eyes shot Mason in the back or something. He couldn’t have bested that kid in a fair fight.’
‘We just seen Mason’s body, Delmer,’ Caleb noted. ‘That boy was shot in the chest maybe a dozen times.’
‘He must have tricked Mason somehow,’ Delmer insisted.
Spike paced around the sheriff like a cougar watching its chosen prey. He had listened to all the talking and was none the wiser. All he knew for sure was that the infamous Iron Eyes was real and far more dangerous than he had ever imagined possible.
‘Iron Eyes sure sounds like a real mean hombre, Delmer,’ he reasoned nervously. ‘I sure don’t cotton to facing up to him.’
‘He gunned down Mason for money, Spike,’ Delmer said through gritted teeth. ‘We gotta teach him a lesson.’
‘Mason was a real fast gun,’ Caleb added. ‘If he couldn’t better Iron Eyes, how can we?’
Delmer frowned in disappointment at his broth
ers. He shook his head and stared through the bright sunlight at them.’
‘Are you scared?’ he taunted.
‘I ain’t scared exactly, Delmer,’ Spike shrugged.
‘Me neither,’ Caleb said cautiously. ‘It’s just we don’t hanker after mixing it with Iron Eyes. That critter ain’t like other folks. They reckon he can’t be killed like normal folks.’
Delmer laughed out loud. ‘Anyone can be killed. All you gotta do is get them in your gun sights and shoot.’
Russell looked up and warned. ‘Don’t bet on it, Holt. Boot Hill is littered with folks that figured Iron Eyes was a normal critter like themselves.’
‘I ain’t scared of anybody,’ Delmer said out loud. ‘I ain’t never met a varmint that I couldn’t better with my guns. I’m gonna get revenge for what he done to Mason. Are you coming with me?’
Both his brothers nodded.
Russell looked at the three rustlers.
‘You’ll end up like your kid brother if you ride after Iron Eyes, boys,’ he warned again. ‘They say that he’s already dead, but he don’t know it. You can’t kill something that’s already dead.’
Delmer raised his six-shooter.
‘Hush the hell up, old timer,’ he snorted. ‘Hush up or I’ll surely kill you. There ain’t no such animal as that. All men can die and Iron Eyes is just another man.’
‘Do you reckon?’ the elderly lawman ignored the warning of his brutal attacker and gazed through the blinding rays of the sun at Delmer Holt. ‘I’m telling you that Iron Eyes ain’t like any living man I’ve ever met before.’
‘But he’s still just a man, old timer,’ Delmer spat angrily at the kneeling lawman. ‘A whole heap uglier, but still a man and all men can be killed.’
‘You don’t wanna tackle Iron Eyes, boy,’ Russell renewed his warning. ‘That’s plumb suicide. Listen to me. Iron Eyes just ain’t human. He’s a spectre. He’s a living ghost that’s too ornery to die and head back to Hell.’
Delmer stared down at the dishevelled sheriff.
‘I’m starting to think that maybe I hit you too hard,’ he growled. ‘Your brains are rattled. Iron Eyes is just a damn ugly galoot, but that ain’t no reason to be scared of the varmint.’
Russell glanced at Delmer’s siblings. Unlike their elder, they did not look quite so confident. ‘Iron Eyes lives to kill and as long as you’ve bin branded an outlaw, that’s exactly what he’ll do. I’ve looked into his eyes, boys. It was like staring into the bowels of Hell itself. I’m telling you to forget about avenging your brother and ride in the opposite direction.’
A chill traced Delmer’s spine as he listened to the bloody words that spluttered from Russell’s mouth. Delmer dismissed his doubts and grabbed the lawman’s head and turned it to face him.
‘Which way did Iron Eyes and that stagecoach head?’ he raged. ‘Which way?’
Sheriff Russell pointed at the road beyond the livery stable and shrugged. ‘The last time I saw them, they were headed thataway. That stage was drawn by a six-horse team so it should be easy to track.’
‘The prairie lies in that direction, Delmer,’ Caleb informed his brothers. ‘Why’d they head there?’
‘I heard that it’s a death trap,’ Spike stammered. ‘Folks that head in there are never seen again.’
‘I don’t give a damn which way he went,’ Delmer snorted at his nervous kin. ‘If his tracks lead into the prairie, then that’s where we go.’
Russell looked up at Delmer. ‘Iron Eyes is mean. Pure evil flows in his veins.’
‘Iron Eyes might be evil but so am I, old timer,’ he grunted. ‘He’s just uglier than me.’
‘At least you got that right, sonny,’ the sheriff coughed.
Then without warning Delmer squeezed his trigger. A plume of smoke and a deafening flash of deadly venom spewed from the barrel of his .45. Within a heartbeat the skull of the lawman exploded into sickening gore. Russell was knocked backward by the impact and landed beside the trough. As the lawman lay lifelessly on the white sand, a pool of crimson spread out from his shattered skull and encircled his body.
Taken by surprise, both brothers moved closer to their older sibling. They looked down at the body and then at the smirking Delmer.
‘What you wanna do that for, Delmer?’ Spike frantically asked his unconcerned brother. ‘That old critter couldn’t have caused us any trouble. You busted him up good.’
‘You killed him,’ Caleb gasped in shock. ‘Why?’
Delmer holstered his smoking gun and turned to face his younger brothers. Neither had ever seen Delmer look quite as evil before. There was a darkness in him now that they did not recognize.
‘Why did I kill that critter?’ Delmer repeated their question. ‘I killed him because he paid Iron Eyes for killing Mason. That’s why.’
‘But he was helpless,’ Spike shrugged.
Delmer stared hard into their eyes.
‘So was that waitress in the café,’ he spat. ‘You stuck her with that long knife of yours just for screaming.’
Caleb shook his head. ‘But you told me to do that.’
‘Exactly,’ Delmer grinned. ‘Killing is killing. There ain’t nothing to get fretful about. We’re wanted and there are a lot of folks willing to kill us for the reward money. The trick is to kill them first.’
Spike raised his eyebrows and shrugged. ‘What we gonna do now?’
‘We fill our bellies with whiskey and then head on out after Iron Eyes,’ Delmer said bluntly.
Both men turned toward the saloon as Delmer stepped over what was left of Russell. As he walked, smoke trailed from his holstered gun.
‘Remember, I’m just as bad as Iron Eyes is, boys,’ he smirked. ‘Damned if I know what a spectre is, but whatever it is, I’m gonna kill it just like I killed that old sheriff back there.’
The three outlaws headed back to where they had left their horses tethered outside the sheriff’s office. The saloon stood two doors beyond their steaming mounts.
As they got within spitting distance of the smell of stale tobacco and spilled alcohol, Delmer looked back at his brothers.
‘I’m gonna teach that stinking bounty hunter that it don’t pay to kill a Holt, boys.’ He snarled. ‘Iron Eyes killed Mason for money. I’m gonna kill him for free.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Squirrel Sally had driven her six-horse team for hours through the darkness toward the distant light before her keen eyes spotted an outcrop of massive smooth boulders projecting from the sand. With the expertise of a teamster, she managed to steer her stagecoach through a narrow gap between the rocks until its length was hidden from prying eyes.
After Sally had watered and fed her horses, she walked barefoot across the top of the coach with her Winchester in her hands and studied the unfamiliar terrain. There was little to see in the eerie light of thousands of stars. Everything had been painted with a coat of black and that suited the normally confident female.
Sally was comforted by the fact that if she could not see the warriors who had unleashed their arrows at her, then they could not see either her or the lengthy vehicle.
Once she had been satisfied that the only way that anyone could follow her into the narrow confines of the rocky hiding place was from behind the tail of the palomino stallion secured to the stagecoach tailgate, she relaxed.
After checking on her still sleeping passenger, Sally had climbed back up on to the roof of the stage and huddled beneath a spare horse blanket with her trusty Winchester in her hands.
She had not intended to sleep but that was exactly what she had done. After hours of unrelenting labour, Sally had slept as she had never done before. Exhaustion had over-ruled all other intensions to remain alert in protection of her beloved cargo.
The sudden shock of awakening in the bright sunlight caused Sally to throw the blanket aside as she got back to her knees with the rifle still in her hands. She shook her golden hair and then rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
It took se
veral moments for the fiery young girl to fully realize where she was and why she was on top of the stagecoach roof. As her mind cleared, she looked around her. The smooth boulders towered over the long vehicle. They seemed much larger than they had when she had perfectly navigated her horses into the narrow gap between them.
Sally looked up. Although the desert was bright, she could still not see the sun from within the confines of the high rocks. That told her that it was still not noon. She got to her feet and walked to the edge of the baggage railings and looked down. There was barely twelve inches between the smooth rocks and the side of the coach.
‘Phew,’ she gasped and then proceeded to the driver’s side and again stared down. ‘That was sure good driving. Reckon I can handle this rig better when I can’t see than when I can.’
Sally walked toward the rear of the vehicle. Her blue eyes narrowed and gazed out at the ocean of white sand. She bit her lower lip nervously as she pondered on the unseen Indians who had peppered her prized stagecoach with their arrows.
Her eyes looked down over the canvas-covered boot and then her heart quickened. Iron Eyes’ handsome palomino stallion was gone.
Sally felt sick.
‘Oh hell,’ she cursed before asking herself. ‘Where in tarnation has his horse gone? It was there tied up to the tailgate before I hunkered down for the night.’
The agile female held her rifle above her head and then slid down the canvas. She landed on the sand and checked the tailgate. The horse’s long leathers had not been cut, she reasoned. The secure knotted reins had been untied.
‘It’s a good job that ornery scarecrow is asleep,’ Sally said. ‘He’d be mighty sore if he knew his pretty nag had been stolen.’
A host of thoughts filled her mind as Sally tried to regain her composure and figure out what she ought to do. She twisted on her bare feet and looked out at the white dunes which surrounded the massive rocks. Then she swung back and stared at the sand.
Suddenly, she spotted something which did not add up in her youthful mind. Her eyebrows rose until they vanished under her golden curls. Sally dropped on to one knee and called upon her unequalled hunting skills to read the situation and tell what had happened.