by Rory Black
Issuing classic fiction from Yesterday and Today!
The ruthless bounty hunter, Iron Eyes, is hot on the trail of the outlaw Diamond Back Jones. After running into the blazing guns of Jones’ cohorts, Iron Eyes sees the deadly outlaw slip through his fingers and ride off into the arid Indian Territory.
Wounded, Iron Eyes gives chase yet again but has no idea that he is being lured into a trap. The Apache are waiting to ambush the man they call ‘the evil one’. Soon the bounty hunter finds himself facing a hundred painted warriors. More dead than alive, Iron Eyes has to fight with every ounce of his honed cunning.
But has he enough strength left to survive?
THE SPIRIT OF IRON EYES
IRON EYES 7:
By Rory Black
First published by Robert Hale Limited in 2004
Copyright © 2004, 2014 by Rory Black
Published by Piccadilly Publishing at Smashwords: November 2014
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader.
Cover image © 2014 by Carl Yonder
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Series Editor: Ben Bridges
Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
Dedicated to my oldest pals, Tony, Phil and Pete Wall
Prologue
Dry Gulch was a town that existed against all the odds. Hovering on the very edge of the vast untamed prairie which few white men had yet to venture into, it was the last place on earth that any sane man would visit. But outlaws shielded their sanity behind a multitude of vices and weaponry.
Dry Gulch provided a safe haven for hundreds of men and women who were not welcome anywhere else. It had long been said that even the Apache feared the vermin that filled its buildings and streets.
The blistering heat and blinding light from a sun which refused to yield to any season except high summer had shaped the land for hundreds of square miles above and below the Mexico border.
Those who rode into the remote Dry Gulch were most probably loco or lost. Or both.
It had nothing for the faint of heart or honest souls. This was a town where gun law ruled supreme.
Yet it served its purpose.
It was one of the few settlements to have managed to take root in an otherwise arid landscape. It survived because it had to survive. There was no alternative. The buildings were mostly adobe and whitewashed like so many south of the border. A few wooden structures had been built by newer residents even though the imported wood was already being destroyed by a never-ceasing heat. At least half the inhabitants were of Mexican origin, but even they seemed to feel the unbelievable temperature hard to cope with as they took refuge within the boundaries of the town.
Only rattlers could ever be comfortable here.
Dry Gulch was indeed unlike any other place that Iron Eyes had ridden into, but he was here for a reason. He was hunting the bounty on an outlaw’s head and nothing could stop him from the chase. His cold calculating eyes studied everything around him as he steered the Indian pony through the wide dusty streets and aimed for the large adobe building with the most horses tied up outside.
He knew that only places that sold either hard liquor or female company attracted that many horses in any town. He guided the pony with the thin bony fingers of his left hand whilst resting his right wrist on top of one of the Navy Colts tucked into his belt.
The saloon had its name marked on the side wall in paint that had long since lost its battle with the hot sun. What was left of the flaking red color was illegible.
A few curious people had ventured out into the bright sunlight to watch the strange-looking rider pass them. None posed any threat to the lethal bounty hunter.
Iron Eyes shook the long limp hair off his face to reveal the scars of many previous battles. His skin was tight to the skull, which looked as if it belonged to a dead man and not a still-living person.
He reined in and glanced along the line of mounts who had been left in the blazing sun. His eyes darted at the ground and studied the hoof tracks behind the hind legs of the abandoned mounts. Instinctively he recognized the tracks that he had trailed for days. The dried lather on the buckskin mount also told him that he had found his prey at last.
Iron Eyes looped his right leg over his pony’s neck and slid to the ground. He dropped his reins and allowed the tired mount to walk to the closest trough in search of water. He pushed his way between the horses and stepped up on to the raised boardwalk outside the adobe saloon.
He lowered his head until his chin touched the sweat-soaked shirt-collar, then stared at the dark interior of the saloon before him.
A hundred smells filled his flared nostrils. He ignored them all except the one he recognized as belonging to the man he had chased for so long.
Iron Eyes strode confidently into the saloon. It was slightly cooler in the large interior but he did not notice. All he could think about was finding the man whose image was on the wanted poster inside his deep coat pocket.
More than fifty people were crammed into the building. He could not even see the bar, but knew that it had to be directly ahead of him because that was where the most men were gathered as they fought for whiskey. The floor was covered in straw and a multitude of other less pleasant things.
Only those closest to the tall fearsome figure noticed the presence of the stranger in the noisy saloon. Iron Eyes opened the front of his long coat to reveal the jutting grips of his Navy .36s.
Slowly the crowd began to move away from him as it dawned on them that this stranger was here not to drink, but to kill. It was etched in every scar that covered Iron Eyes’ face.
The bounty hunter began to walk forward with deliberate steps. He was silent and yet totally aware of all those who surrounded him within the crowded building. His fingers flexed as his arms hung at his sides. Only his spurs made any sound as he crossed the filthy floor.
His bullet-colored eyes darted from one face to another, with a speed that only those who lived by their instincts could ever match. Iron Eyes inhaled deeply and followed the acrid scent of the man he had been chasing for long. He turned his head and looked over the dozens of hats towards a far corner.
It was dark there but he could smell the outlaw drifting on the cigar and pipe-smoke-filled air.
Fear stank and Iron Eyes knew the aroma well.
Iron Eyes raised his left hand and brushed men aside as he moved closer to the darkest part of the large room. He was being drawn like a moth to a flame towards the outlaw he had yet to see.
Then he saw a brief glimpse of daylight as the saloon’s rear door was hastily opened and closed. Diamond Back Jones had fled.
The sound of the door bouncing against its frame echoed above the drunken voices which filled the large room.
Iron Eyes increased his pace. He flung every one of the men between the corner of the saloon and himself out of the way as he closed in on the still moving door.
‘Who you pushin’?’ one man snarled as he grabbed at the sleeve of the bounty hunter.
Iron Eyes turned his neck and then brutally head-butted the far shorter man on the bridge of his nose. Blood splattered from the deep gash as the man fell to the ground.
Without pausing for a single second, Iron Eyes raised his right leg and kicked at the frail wooden door. It flew off its hinges and landed out in the sun-drenched alley.
Sunlight swept into the saloon but Iron Eyes did not seem to notice as he walked out into the alley. His nose was still guiding him after the man whose stench had drifted on the air between them for days.
The sound of Jones running filled his ears.
The thoughtful bounty hunter pulled a long thin cigar from his deep pocket, bit off its tip, then spat it out. He placed the cigar between his small teeth and then found a match. He ignited it with his thumbnail, cupped the flame and puffed until smoke billowed from his mouth.
Iron Eyes looked down at the ground and saw the bootmarks in the sand. They led along the narrow alley towards the backs of more adobe buildings.
‘Keep running, Diamond Back,’ Iron Eyes muttered through the smoke. ‘I’m comin’ and there ain’t no hole deep enough for you to hide in.’
The bounty hunter walked between the high walls along the alley. He knew that he now had his prey running scared and that suited him. Above all other things, he was a hunter. It had once been animals, now it was men with prices on their heads whom he tracked down and killed.
There was a fork in the alley about a hundred feet from the rear of the saloon. The ground was baked hard by the merciless sun and there were no boot tracks to be seen by normal eyes, but there was no hiding-place from Iron Eyes’ expert vision. He went to the right and continued his search.
Suddenly he heard a noise ahead of him.
Iron Eyes dragged one of his guns from his belt and cocked its hammer. He moved silently along the alley and stopped when he saw Diamond Back Jones’s boots disappearing over a wall. He went to aim, but his target had vanished.
The bounty hunter headed quickly towards the wall, then heard the outlaw running away from it across the hard ground. He stretched up to his full height and stared over the top of the whitewashed wall. He saw Jones race between two buildings and into a street.
The outlaw was heading back to his horse.
Iron Eyes gritted his teeth and ran along the alley in the direction of the street. A trail of blue smoke drifted over his broad shoulders as his long legs ate up the ground beneath him.
Before the tall man reached the street, he saw Diamond Back Jones dash across the mouth of the alley ahead of him.
Iron Eyes dragged his other pistol from his belt and readied it for action. As he reached the corner, the deafening sound of a shot bounced off the solid walls. When Iron Eyes stepped out into the street the wall exploded next to his face when a score of bullets hit it.
Debris showered over the bounty hunter as another volley of bullets passed within inches of the tall man’s head.
Iron Eyes dropped on to one knee and returned fire as more shots rang out from the direction of the saloon.
Looking up, he saw at least a dozen gunmen fanning their gun hammers as they gave cover to the notorious Diamond Back Jones.
Iron Eyes rolled over and over back towards the alley as the ground all around him was churned up by the deadly bullets which sought his emaciated frame.
He returned fire and watched one of the gunmen drop lifelessly into the sand.
More shots echoed around Dry Gulch. They ricocheted off the wall behind him sending clouds of choking dust covering the kneeling man.
Iron Eyes rubbed his face and squinted. He saw as Diamond Back was given a fresh mount and galloped off beyond the firing gunmen.
‘Damn!’ Iron Eyes cursed as he fired back again at the men.
One man twisted on his high heels and fell under the hoofs of the tethered mounts as one of Iron Eyes’ bullets hit him squarely in the chest. Then another man strode out of the saloon with a double-barreled shotgun in his hands.
Before Iron Eyes could cock the hammers of his guns again, he saw the long barrels blast out in his direction. A massive chunk of whitewashed adobe was severed from the side wall of the building above him.
It fell heavily on top of the bounty hunter’s head.
Iron Eyes felt a crippling pain inside his skull as the heavy debris forced his face into the dust.
For a split second, everything went black in the mind of the prostrate figure. He then heard the muffled sound of boots behind him in the alley.
Somehow he managed to turn on to his side and stare at the alley.
His blurred eyes tried to focus. Then he saw two men rushing at him with their guns cocked and ready.
The men started to fire at the stunned figure. The deafening noise and blinding flashes of gunfire ripped through the alley and blasted at the ground next to him.
Iron Eyes’ left hand plucked one of the Navy Colts off the ground and aimed at them.
With all his strength he dragged back the hammer with his thumb and then squeezed its trigger. He repeated the action three times more until he was convinced that the gunmen were either dead or wounded.
Then bullets rained down on the bounty hunter again from the saloon. He felt blood trickling down from his hairline as one of the gunmen’s shots burned through his hair.
Iron Eyes rolled over again and faced what was left of his attackers.
There were about eight of them as far as his dazed eyes could tell. Yet Iron Eyes knew that he was hurt and not hitting his targets. The figures were swaying and blurred.
‘Get him, boys!’ A voice rang out as more shots came searching for the bounty hunter.
Iron Eyes knew that Jones must have paid these men to buy him time. Time the outlaw needed to get away. Time to put a lot of distance between himself and the legendary hunter of men.
He raised himself up on to his knees and aimed the barrels of his deadly guns at the men. Yet he could not tell if his eyes were lying to him. It was like looking through a heat haze even worse than the one which already filled the streets of Dry Gulch.
As each of the gunmen fired, Iron Eyes fired at the sound their pistols were making.
He saw men spinning and falling as his bullets slowly began to find their targets.
Then he saw the man with the shotgun again.
Iron Eyes blasted at the man with both Navy Colts.
The shotgun went flying into the air as the man was hit off his feet. A spray of blood splattered across the saloon’s whitewashed frontage.
‘Who is that hombre?’ one of the gunmen screamed out from across the street.
‘Diamond Back said he was a bounty hunter!’ another voice answered from beside the line of skittish mounts.
‘A bounty hunter? He ain’t even human!’ another man yelled.
‘Damn right I ain’t!’ Iron Eyes snorted under his breath as he opened the chambers of his red-hot guns.
Iron Eyes emptied the spent shells from his guns, then filled their chambers with bullets from his deep pockets. As he slid the last of the bullets into the Navy Colts, he rose to his full height and spat the twisted cigar from his lips.
‘Ready or not, I’m comin’,’ Iron Eyes shouted as he walked towards the startled onlookers.
There was an astonished gasp from the men who faced him.
With blood streaming down his grotesque face he fired both weapons in unison. The long tails of his coat flapped violently as the gunmen’s shots missed his painfully thin body and tore at the weathered bloodstained fabric.
Shot after shot spewed from the barrels of his Navy .36s as the bounty hunter advanced on his attackers. His flared nostrils could smell their terror.
With every step of his long legs, Iron Eyes saw the men buckle as his deadly bullets tore into them.
By the time the dazed gaunt figure reached the line of terrified horses outside the saloon, Iron Eyes knew that he had killed them all.
There was blood everywhere across the bright dust. It traced between the twisted bodies that lay all around him. His eyes narrowed and stared at the dust that hung on the hot air, marking the trail left by the fleeing Diamond Back Jones.
Iron Eyes tucked one pistol into his belt, leaned against the saddle of one of the horses and then looked up at the saloon and the frightened faces in the darkness.
H
e produced a golden eagle from one of his pockets and tossed it into the saloon’s dark interior.
‘Whiskey!’ Iron Eyes growled as blood dripped from his limp hair. ‘Somebody better get me a few bottles of whiskey! I got me an outlaw to trail and kill.’
Chapter One
The blazing heat was as merciless as the rider who forced his exhausted pony through it. Standing in his stirrups, the horseman continued to whip his long reins across the shoulders of the pitiful animal beneath him. The tails of his long bloodstained coat flapped over the cantle of his saddle as his long black hair moved up and down on his back like the wings of a bat seeking the sanctuary of a distant cave.
The chase had started again.
The blood had dried on his scalp an hour earlier but Iron Eyes had already forgotten the wound which had almost cost him his life in Dry Gulch far behind him.
He had a crumpled wanted poster buried in his deep coat pocket, amid countless loose bullets. The bounty hunter had trailed his prey for nearly a week before he had reached Dry Gulch.
Somehow Diamond Back Jones had managed to escape.
Now Iron Eyes was forced again to trail his prey. He could see nothing except the tracks on the prairie floor before his exhausted pony.
Mile after mile he had followed the outlaw until he had reached this remote inhospitable place. Yet Iron Eyes did not seem to notice that the land itself was now becoming as much an enemy as the unseen rider far ahead of him.
The hoof-tracks led straight on across the blindingly bright terrain. They were luring him like bait and he knew it. Yet he would not stop following Jones. Not now. Not after he had been so close to collecting the price on his head back in Dry Gulch.
The sight before him would have terrified any normal man, but not this deadly creature. He feared nothing.
The bullet-colored eyes had never lit upon anything which gave them reason to doubt his own deadly ability with his matched pair of Navy Colts. For death had ridden on his shoulder for his entire life and he knew that there was a time for all things to die. He would accept his own fate when it came, but not give his enemies an easy target.