The Iron Eyes Collection

by Rory Black

  Iron Eyes was close to exhaustion and that hindered his ability to reason. In the hours since he had killed the back-shooting bounty hunters he had sensed that there was far more danger hidden within the confines of this forest.

  A well-rested Iron Eyes would have noticed the way the wildlife within the forest reacted as he rode ever onward in his quest to locate Squirrel, but he was dog-tired.

  There was only so far that a man, even Iron Eyes, could go without stopping to consume anything more nourishing than whiskey and cigar smoke. Had he been more alert he would have realized that he was being followed by the unseen Kiowa.

  As the curious warriors watched from the undergrowth, Iron Eyes only knew that the countless trees could have an army hidden behind their wide tree trunks and no one would be any the wiser.

  Iron Eyes looked at the savage wound on his shoulder. His bony digits peeled back the torn fabric of his coat and looked upon his injury. Blood still trailed from the inch-square chunk of his missing flesh, but there was no time to tend the wound. His stamina was waning as he fumbled among his bullet-filled pockets until he located another twisted cigar. He placed it between his razor sharp teeth and then produced a match and struck it on his silver saddlehorn. He filled his lungs and then slowly exhaled. The smoke eased the pain as he tossed the spent match at the ground.

  He knew that Sally was pig-headed enough to keep on travelling until he caught up with her. That was exactly what she was doing. The trouble was she had no idea where she was going or what dangers she might be drawing to her the way flies get dragged to an outhouse short on fresh lime.

  Squirrel had him hooked like a prize pike and he was being reeled in whether he liked it or not. Like a tempestuous child, the tiny female was stubborn.

  ‘That gal is gonna be the death of me,’ he said through smoke as it drifted from his mouth and encircled his weary shoulders. ‘By the time I catch up with her I’m gonna be too tuckered to kick her rump.’

  His narrowed eyes squinted into the brilliant sun and searched the area intently. The lower trail he had chosen to continue his journey was about a quarter of a mile below the main trail but he figured that they were both headed in the same direction. He had been an easy target on the far wider trail and there had been no cover.

  At least this winding route would offer him the cover of countless trees when the shooting started again. Iron Eyes was convinced that it was only a matter of time before another lowlife back-shooter tried his luck and unleashed his bullets in his direction.

  He rubbed his red-raw eyes.

  The shimmering haze that rose up from the hot sandy trail had confused him at first. He nudged the palomino and allowed his mount to walk another ten strides before stopping the muscular animal again. The trail ahead of the proud stallion snaked off into the distance.

  It was shrouded in virtually impenetrable cover. Shafts of dazzling sunlight cut down through gaps in the overhead canopy and shimmered before his burning eyes. The trail road that had been wide a few miles back was now much narrower as nature had started to reclaim it. It was still far wider than his muscular mount though, he thought.

  Iron Eyes tapped his spurs.

  The palomino began to walk again. As it moved the animal raised its head and sniffed at the forest air and then started to snort. Iron Eyes knew only too well that the stallion could smell water. He allowed the horse to increase its pace as it instinctively headed to where it knew it would find the precious liquid it craved.

  As the massive stallion gathered speed, Iron Eyes hung on to the reins and studied the land they were travelling through. Yet the forest was mocking his attempt to see deeper into its entanglement.

  Iron Eyes pulled the cigar from his lips and tapped its ash away as the large horse kept moving at speed through the eerie terrain. He then returned the bent cigar to his mouth and tried vainly to relax. It was impossible. No matter how hard he tried, his hunter’s gut kept telling him that there was terrible danger in this land. Yet he had not seen any wild animals since first entering the forest. If there were cougars and bears in this wilderness, they were either waiting for sundown or they were far up the tree-covered hills.

  As his tortured mind attempted to remain calm, the most dreaded bounty hunter of them all knew that his dwindling instincts sensed a very different type of danger.

  The two-legged type of gun-toting hombres who were always ready and willing to start shooting, just like the pair of dead men he had left a few miles behind him.

  He hung on to his long leathers as the sturdy mount twisted and turned as it galloped through the encroaching undergrowth. Smoke trailed over his wide shoulders just like the twelve Kiowa who kept pace with him astride their painted ponies.

  Then the stallion turned off the trail and forced its way through heavy brush. It had found its goal. The large animal slowed to a walk as it neared the sparkling brook. Even Iron Eyes could smell the crystal clear water as it tumbled relentlessly down a small waterfall and collected in a hollow just ahead of the palomino.

  Iron Eyes sucked the last of the smoke from the cigar and then flicked it into the fast moving water as it continued on its way down the mountainside. He looped a long bony leg over the lowered head of the horse and slid off. The ground was soft around the brook as the bounty hunter pulled all of his empty canteens off the horn of his saddle and moved to the edge of the water.

  Iron Eyes knelt beside the rippling water. His eyes glanced at the drinking horse and then vainly searched the surrounding area. Although he still could not see anything but trees, he still sensed that death was mighty close. He unscrewed the stoppers of the canteen and then lowered them into the clear water. Bubbles surfaced as the dishevelled bounty hunter patiently waited.

  ‘This ain’t a good idea, horse,’ he growled. ‘Just remember it was your notion to come here, not mine. I’m looking for that gold-stealing little Squirrel. I don’t even like the taste of water.’

  One by one he filled the canteens and placed them on the muddy ground beside him. Although he had never cared too much for water, he curiously cupped his hands and raised the cold liquid to his mouth. He drank from his hands and then dried his palms on his blood-stained coat front.

  A horrified expression nearly outweighed his normally scarred features as he swallowed. Iron Eyes angrily glanced at the palomino beside him as the stallion continued to consume the precious liquid.

  Iron Eyes spat at the mud.

  ‘How in tarnation can you drink this stuff, horse?’ he groaned before returning his deathly stare to his surroundings and then grabbing the canteens and standing. He hung each of the ice-cold containers to the ornate silver horn of his saddle before pulling another twisted cigar from his pocket and placing it in his mouth.

  Iron Eyes scratched a match with his thumbnail, but before he could raise the flickering flame to the cigar between his teeth he heard something.

  There was something about the noise that an arrow makes as it leaves a bow, which once heard, is never forgotten. It was a memory that was branded into every sinew of the tall figure as he momentarily paused. The arrow whistled passed the bounty hunter’s ear, lifting his long mane off his blood-stained shoulder.

  ‘Damn it all,’ Iron Eyes yelped as he grabbed hold of the horse’s loose leathers and threw his lean frame off the ground and on to the Mexican saddle. ‘We got company, Gluepot.’

  As more deadly projectiles flew at him from the dense forest, Iron Eyes swiftly dragged one of his Navy Colt’s from his belt and blasted a reply.

  The trees resonated to the deafening sound of the bounty hunter’s gun as Iron Eyes fought to control the handsome beast beneath him. Then one of the arrows narrowly missed his leg and embedded into the well-constructed saddle.

  ‘It’s getting mighty unhealthy around here,’ Iron Eyes drawled and then drove his bloody spurs into the flanks of the confused animal. ‘C’mon. Get me out of here.’

  With more arrows flying through the air in his direction, the p
alomino crossed the fast-flowing water and then ploughed through a wall of entangled undergrowth. As the gaunt horseman spurred, he felt his long dust coat almost ripped from his determined body. With blood trailing from a hundred cuts, Iron Eyes forced the stallion forward as his teeth gripped on to the flavoursome weed.

  The palomino leapt over a fallen tree trunk with the agility of an attacking cougar. The muscular animal did not miss a stride as its hoofs landed on the forest floor. Iron Eyes dropped the smoking six-shooter into one of his dust coat pockets and then withdrew its identical twin and cocked its hammer.

  Iron Eyes twisted and looked over his shoulder at his unseen attackers. There was no sign of them but he knew they were still there. He could hear their ponies battling with the skin-ripping thorny undergrowth as they pursued him. He swung back around and stared over the creamy mane of the charging stallion.

  ‘Damn it all,’ he yelled out as he hung on as best he could. ‘I hate Injuns even more than I hate cowboys.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The three outlaws had wrapped one of their pants belts around Squirrel Sally’s middle and buckled it so tightly, she could hardly breathe let alone swing her clenched fists which hung at her thighs. The fiery female was angry at herself far more than her captors. This was the first time that anyone had managed to get the better of her and she felt vulnerable. Yet there was no fear in the petite Sally. Her smouldering eyes glared through her golden locks at the men who had virtually quelled any chance of her being able to defend herself. Her time travelling with the infamous Iron Eyes had taught her that there was always an angle to escape even the most deadly of situations.

  All you had to do was figure it out.

  With every step of her bare feet, Squirrel Sally pondered on the situation she had blundered into. If there was a way out of this, she was confident in finding it.

  Sally turned her head and stared at the men who had her penned in. Denver had her prized Winchester in his gloved hands and was toying with the lethal rifle.

  ‘Be careful with that carbine,’ she warned as Vance pushed her forward, ‘That rifle’s got a hair trigger.’

  Jody Denver glanced at their attractive captive. ‘You ever use this rifle, gal?’

  She chuckled. ‘I sure have. I’ve killed me a heap of worthless varmints with that toothpick. I’ll kill you with it when I get me the chance.’

  Denver laughed and pushed her out into the clearing and toward the small cabin as McGee and Vance flanked the leader of the infamous Denver gang.

  ‘Do you reckon she’s telling the truth, Jody?’ McGee uneasily asked.

  Denver shook his head as they crossed the clearing toward the cabin and their tethered horses. ‘Nope, I reckon it’s just big talk from a little runt, boys.’

  The rage burned inside the small Sally. She fumed and looked ahead as her three captors kept forcing her toward their hideout with the barrels of their weaponry.

  ‘Keep moving, Squirrel Sally,’ Denver chuckled as his gun barrel pressed into the small of her back. ‘I’m darn grateful you told me who you are. Now all we gotta do is wait for your man to come looking for his sweetheart and kill him. With Iron Eyes out of the way, we won’t have nothing to worry about.’

  The sudden realization that she was the lure which would get her beloved Iron Eyes killed dawned on her. Her beautiful blue eyes flashed behind the cover of her golden mane as she desperately tried to struggle from the leather belt that kept her arms glued to her hips and thighs.

  ‘Why’d you wanna kill Iron Eyes for?’ she yelled.

  Denver looked down at her, ‘Simple. He’s the most feared bounty hunter there is. Killing him will free us up to get back to work. Iron Eyes is the most dangerous of his stinking breed and once he’s dead we ain’t got nothing to trouble us.’

  Denver’s words chilled Sally.

  ‘He’ll kill you all before you got time to spit,’ Sally snarled like a trapped animal as they neared the cabin. She glanced up at the shingled roof and the stove smoke which billowed from its chimney. ‘Iron Eyes ain’t so easily killed and once he’s riled, he’ll show you no mercy.’

  All three outlaws laughed in amusement at her stammering outburst. They had all heard of the notorious bounty hunter’s reputation but none of the trio could imagine how dangerous he truly was.

  ‘You’ll find out who the best guns are, missy,’ Vance pushed her hard. Sally stumbled and fell heavily on to the ground close to their tethered mounts. The animals shied and snorted as she rolled up to their hoofs. ‘If’n you weren’t so pretty, I’d put a bullet in you now.’

  Denver placed Sally’s rifle against the cabin wall and stared down at his attractive prisoner. ‘We’re the Denver gang, gal. We’re wanted in places that we ain’t even heard of and we kill anyone who gets in our way.’

  Sally blew a stray ringlet of hair off her face and stared up at the trio of deadly bank-robbers. Her youthful mind raced as she concentrated on them, seeking a chink in their armour.

  ‘So you’re the Denver gang?’ she asked as she swung around on her buttocks and sighed heavily. ‘I heard about you boys but I never thought you were yellow-bellies.’

  Rage erupted in the soul of McGee. He went to lash out with his boot when Denver pulled him back. Both men stared at one another for a few moments.

  ‘That gal talks too much, Jody,’ McGee grunted, pointing his six-gun in her defiant direction.

  Denver gave a slow nod of his head. ‘I know she does, but don’t go falling for her big talk. She’s just a scared runt who uses her mouth to fend off her enemies, Bill.’

  McGee glared down at the seated female and pointed a shaking finger at her, ‘Why’d you call us yellow-bellies?’

  Sally looked around the remote area and then back at the furious outlaw.

  ‘Why? Only a bunch of cowards hide in the middle of a forest,’ she grinned. ‘Real men would face their enemies. They sure wouldn’t hide out like vermin.’

  Vance circled both his cohorts without taking his eyes from the seated young vixen they had brought to their stronghold. He paused and stared down at her sun-kissed body barely contained by her ripped and weathered clothing. He licked his lips as though he was studying a freshly baked pie and then shook his head before looking to his companions.

  ‘She sure is mighty juicy, boys,’ he noted. ‘I’m gonna enjoy teaching her about the birds and bees.’

  Sally’s eyes darted up at the grinning man, ‘Keep on drooling, fathead. It’ll be the death of you.’

  ‘She sure is sassy,’ Vance gave out a belly laugh and grabbed her long hair. He lifted it away from her body and admired her well-developed womanhood. ‘I bet you’re a real tiger when an hombre pays you some interest.’

  ‘Leave her be, Dan,’ Denver said as he moved toward their captive and looked down upon the seductive Sally. ‘If anyone is gonna taste how sweet she is, it’s me.’

  ‘How come?’ Vance grunted.

  ‘This is my gang, Dan,’ Denver reminded the far younger outlaw like a stag marking its territory. ‘I always get first bite of the apple and don’t you ever forget it. You can have my left-overs.’

  Vance silently snorted and sat on a tree stump. He continued to glare at Sally like a starving man confronted by a mouth-watering feast.

  Sally rested her head on her raised knees. From the corner of her eye she could see the sun glinting off her trusty rifle propped against the cabin wall.

  McGee looked long and hard at Sally before turning his eyes to Denver. ‘She sure is a fiery little gal, Jody. Reckon she bites?’

  Denver laughed and moved to his Winchester, which was lying beside their other weaponry on a crude table just inside the cabin. He lifted it and cranked its hand-guard. ‘I’d bet a hundred bucks that she bites and uses her claws as well.’

  ‘I like feisty gals,’ McGee winked.

  Denver began loading his rifle and watched their prisoner with seasoned eyes as she sat in the dust. ‘Look at her, Bill. She ain’t no
taller than a kid but she’s smart. That gal is like a wild animal and there ain’t nothing more fearsome than a wild animal. Give her half a chance and she’d slit your throat or rip out your eyes.’

  McGee swallowed hard as he rested his hand on his holstered gun. Sweat trailed down his face as he looked at the seated female as she stared at the sun-baked soil between her bare feet.

  ‘Are you serious?’ he whispered out of the corner of his mouth at Denver. ‘You really figure she’s that wild?’

  Denver briefly glanced at Sally before returning to his rifle, ‘Yep, I reckon. What other kind of female would ride with the likes of Iron Eyes?’

  McGee rubbed his throat, ‘Holy smoke. I never considered that. You’re right, Jody. Iron Eyes would only tangle with a gal as mean as he is. She sure is pretty though.’

  Denver nodded in agreement, ‘They’re the worst kind. The pretty ones are always the worst of the bunch. Just think on the whores in all the saloons you’ve bin in, Bill. The prettier they are, the more unpredictable they are. The ugly ones are always a whole heap safer.’

  McGee moved across the cabin and fed the stove with logs before placing the coffee pot on its flat surface. He chewed on the words of his elder before returning to the man who was ensuring all their rifles were fully loaded.

  ‘Even so,’ he shrugged. ‘I’d still like to have me a crack at that young filly, Jody.’

  ‘You can. When I’m through with that gal,’ Denver drawled, ‘You and Dan are welcome to what’s left, Bill.’

  McGee grinned, ‘I’ll rustle up some grub, Jody.’

  Denver nodded and placed the fully-loaded rifle next to the others. He rested a broad shoulder against the door frame and then looked around the clearing.

  ‘If that little gal is telling the truth,’ he started. ‘Iron Eyes will be here pretty soon looking for his frisky little Squirrel.’

  Sweat dripped from the young outlaw’s face as he anxiously looked across the cabin at Denver.

  ‘I ain’t in no hurry to tangle with that critter,’ McGee admitted as he placed the blackened skillet on the stove top.