by Rory Black
‘Safe keeping,’ Iron Eyes muttered.
‘Safe keeping? You intending heading back this way to pick up the money, boy?’ Hawkins could not understand the motives of this strange man. He was bewildered.
‘I doubt it.’
Hawkins looked at the money as the bills slowly unfolded on the pile of papers cluttered on the desk. There were hundreds of dollars there. ‘Are you giving your bounty money away, boy? Why hunt down outlaws and give most of the reward money away to a stranger? It don’t make no sense.’
‘I got me more than enough money for the horse’s feed and my whiskey and bullets, Sheriff.’ Iron Eyes said drily. ‘I don’t need the rest at the moment. Money slows me down. Blunts my edge and makes me kinda sluggish.’
‘But what if you need more money?’
‘Then I’ll just kill me a few more outlaws.’ Iron Eyes grinned a crooked grin. ‘Only the ones wanted dead, that is.’
‘That skull of yours must have bin busted even worse than I figured,’ Hawkins opined. ‘You give your money away and decide to keep chasing outlaws even though you’re as blind as a bat. Yep! I figure your brain must have bin mashed up like a pot of sweet potatoes.’
Iron Eyes exhaled loudly. ‘I’m a hunter, Sheriff. Always bin a hunter. It’s all I know. How to kill.’
Hawkins moved to the doctor and shook him with both hands. Lowe’s eyes opened. He looked at the two men in his office and smiled. The lawman turned back to face the bounty hunter.
‘I don’t understand you at all, boy,’ the sheriff admitted.
Iron Eyes sat down again in the chair he had polished with his pants seat during the night. He extracted one of the bills and waved it at the lawman. ‘Here.’
‘I don’t take bribes.’
‘This ain’t no damn bribe. It’s to go and buy us three steak dinners and have ’em brung here,’ Iron Eyes stated. His left hand slid down to the neck of his boot and drew out his honed Bowie knife.’
‘What you doing with that knife, boy?’ the sheriff cautiously asked the seated figure who seemed to be weighing the weapon in his right hand.
Iron Eyes turned his face towards Hawkins. ‘You said I was as blind as a bat and couldn’t go riding off without getting myself killed, old-timer, right?’
‘Right enough.’
‘Throw something at that far wall,’ the bounty hunter drawled. ‘Anything at all.’
The sheriff was about to argue when he decided it might be better if he complied with the request. Hawkins wanted to try and prove to the wounded man that he was not fit enough to ride out of San Remo. His fingers searched his vest pocket and produced a silver dollar.
‘Will a dollar do?’
Iron Eyes slowly nodded as he listened to the coin being tossed and caught by the lawman. ‘It’ll do just fine.’
‘Here goes.’ Hawkins dropped his hand and tossed the coin across the room. Before the coin had reached the tobacco-stained wall the bounty hunter slung the large knife at full force. The tip of the knife’s blade hit the coin, then embedded itself in the wall.
‘What you doing?’ Doc Lowe asked sleepily.
Iron Eyes smiled. ‘Proving a point. I ain’t as helpless as our star-packing pal here thinks.’
Joe Hawkins walked to the knife, pulled it from the wall and scooped up his coin. The knife’s tip had scarred its silver surface. Silently he strode back to the bounty hunter and exchanged the hefty weapon for the twenty-dollar bill. ‘So you can hit a coin with a knife.’
‘I can also shoot folks dead,’ Iron Eyes added. ‘Ask Kansas Drew McGinty if that ain’t a fact.’
‘Are you sure you can’t see?’ Hawkins growled, waving his hands in front of the blank eyes of the seated man.
‘Not a damn thing, old-timer.’ Hawkins sighed heavily.
‘Incredible!’
‘I’m gonna ride on out of this town after I’ve had me some vittles and filled my saddle-bags with whiskey bottles,’ the bounty hunter said. He slid the knife back down into his boot. ‘Maybe my sight will return before I catch up with them outlaws.’
Hawkins shook his head. ‘I got me a feeling it will.’
‘Damn right, old-timer. Now go get us them steak meals,’ Iron Eyes said. ‘And some whiskey. Don’t forget the bottles of whiskey.’
‘If I weren’t so hungry I might not be willing to run errands for a ruthless bounty hunter,’ Hawkins observed. ‘But a steak would go down real well just now.’
It was a confused Doc Lowe who stared at the pile of cash on his desk. He scratched his head and pulled out the chair next to where his patient was seated. The lawman left the office, walked out into the busy street and headed towards the cafe.
Lowe sat down next to his patient and looked at the cement bandage carefully. ‘How’d you feel?’
The ghostlike creature turned towards the doctor. His face seemed expressionless. ‘A whole lot better if I could see you again. Doc,’ he said.
‘You seem to be doing pretty good without being able to see, my boy.’ Lowe smiled.
Iron Eyes buried his face into his hands. ‘Don’t be fooled so easy, Doc. It’s all bin tricks. Just a whole heap of damn tricks.’
Chapter Eleven
The forest got darker the deeper the two outlaws rode into its depths. The bottom of the most fearsome ocean could never have created more demons than those which fermented like rotgut whiskey in their imaginations. Slater and Barker had been drawn like moths to a flame by their curiosity and the need to get to the end of this frightening place. The sounds of explosions had grown louder the further they rode up into the valley of trees. The mist hung lower over the river until it was as though they had entered the belly of a cloud.
Then, as they rounded a bend, all fell silent.
Nothing stirred. Now only the pounding of their racing hearts filled their ears.
Slater drew rein and kept the leathers up under his chin as his eyes vainly searched the area that lay ahead of them. Barker allowed his horse to drink whilst he nursed his Winchester and also studied the terrain.
‘I don’t like it,’ Slater admitted.
‘Whatever it was that bin making all the noise has quit, Whip,’ Barker observed.
Slater relaxed slightly, released the grip of his right hand and lowered his arm until his gloved fingers were above the pearl-handled gun on his hip.
‘Yeah, whoever it was has gone kinda coy,’ the horseman remarked nervously. The outlaw then looked up and saw what appeared to be smoke drifting across the expanse of fast-moving water. He pointed. ‘The blasts must have come from up yonder, by my reckoning.’
Barker teased his mount forward until both animals were shoulder to shoulder. He moved the long-barreled weapon around, as if daring whatever it had been that had been making the explosions to appear.
‘I got me a bad feeling about this, Whip.’
‘You and me both, Clem.’ Slater nodded as he slid his gun from its holster and pulled back on its hammer. He rested the pistol on his thigh and turned his head slightly. There was another bend just two hundred yards from where their horses stood. ‘I figure we bin spotted. That’s why they stopped blasting.’
Barker sighed. It was a heavy sigh created by fear of the unknown. He had been in many scrapes during his short but fruitful career as an outlaw but nothing had ever scared him quite as much as this valley.
‘Who do you figure it was using explosives? And why? There ain’t no mining camps that I’ve seen.’
Slater looked at yet another totem pole. It was rotten, as the water lapped like a thirsty cat at its base. He rubbed his dry mouth along his sleeve.
‘I ain’t sure about nothing any more. All I keep thinking about is them damn totem poles. We could be surrounded by a whole bunch of redskins and not know it.’
‘Injuns ain’t got no black powder or dynamite,’ Barker said through gritted teeth. ‘You said that yourself. What we got to be wary of is white critters. White critters that can blow us into a million piec
es.’
‘Yeah,’ Slater muttered. His eyes continued to search for whatever or whoever it might be who dwelled in the dense forest and played with deadly explosives.
‘Right now I’d prefer to run into a whole tribe of Injuns, pal,’ Barker croaked. ‘I don’t hanker to have myself blown apart by some loco prospectors.’
Suddenly above them through the swirling mist they heard a strange sound. It was the noise of movement. But a noise unlike anything either rider had ever heard before.
Both looked up at the same moment. They saw the wires which had been stretched across the river in various directions and before either of them could utter a word their eyes noticed them start to vibrate.
A sickening humming filled the air. ‘What in tarnation is that?’
‘What’s going on?’
Whip Slater steadied his horse as it too became as nervous as its master. ‘Wish the hell I knew, Clem.’
The mist began to stir as if it was alive. It curled and moved as the wires which ran through it shook the very air itself over their heads. Something was coming. They both sensed it. They could hear it. But what? What was coming?
Then another series of sounds filled their ears. This time it was on the ground. Their eyes widened as all around them the brush began to heave as bushes appeared to come to life and move towards them.
‘What the hell?’ Barker almost screamed as he felt his mount buck beneath his saddle. The outlaw’s hand let go of the rifle barrel and grabbed at his reins. He fought the animal into submission. ‘Easy, boy. Easy.’
‘The brush is alive, Clem,’ Slater yelled.
‘What we damn well ridden into, Whip?’ Barker gasped as he managed to bring his rifle back up into his shaking hands. ‘Is we dead? Have we bin running scared from Iron Eyes and ended up riding into Hell?’
Nervously Slater raised his gun and trained it on the moving bushes. He did not know what to do. His trigger finger wanted to squeeze and kill but his mind could not see how he could kill bushes. ‘This place is haunted, Clem.’
Barker eventually steadied his mount. ‘There ain’t no such animal as ghosts, Whip.’
Whip Slater fired at the bushes. ‘Whatever that is I’m gonna kill it.’
The air filled with acrid gun smoke as both outlaws fired their weaponry at the approaching bushes. Then above them the humming noise grew louder. Again the outlaws’ attention was drawn to the wires that buzzed like a hive of crazed hornets. To their utter shock they saw something moving from beyond the low-hanging mist. Neither had seen such a sight before and shock showed in their ashen faces.
‘What is it?’ Barker yelled out.
‘A bird?’ Slater ventured.
‘It’s a man!’
The eerie sight came across the river at speed. It broke through the low cloud on its journey towards them. Faster and faster it came at them. Then as both Slater and Barker raised their weapons at the strange flying object they heard the unmistakable sound of guns being cocked from within the moving bushes.
‘Guns.’ Barker shouted as he swung his mount around to again face the bushes he and his companion had fired at. His eyes widened as he saw the gun barrels aimed at them. ‘Look out, Whip.’
The outlaws had barely had time to focus when the weapons of the men hidden behind the bushes unleashed their fury.
‘This is a damn bushwhackin’, Clem,’ Slater shouted at his partner as he tried to swing his skittish horse around.
Before Barker could respond he felt the power of the bullets cut into him. The impact almost sent him flying over his cantle. Only his stirrups, which held his boots in check, kept the outlaw on his mount. ‘I bin hit.’
Gun smoke curled and twisted as more and more red-hot lead spewed out at them. The barrage of artillery came fast and furious. Slater tried to return fire but his gun was empty and then he too was rocked by the bullets that punched into his body. He swayed like a prize fighter on the ropes.
Defying his own agony, Barker managed to level his rifle and return two last shots. Then he buckled as another volley of lead cut into him. His horse swung full circle as the flying object over their heads reached them both. Will Hayes raised his boots and kicked both men in turn. Slater and Barker flew from their mounts and crashed into the muddy ground.
Barker got to his feet quickly and started to shoot in all directions. It was the last act of a man whose entire body was riddled with bullet wounds. Blood poured from him as the outlaw finally fell back on to his knees and then crumpled. The outlaw gave out a last gasp as his face sank into the soft wet ground.
Slater lay on his back. His finger kept pulling on the trigger of his gun but there were no more bullets in its chambers. Hayes drew and fired his gun and finished the doomed man.
Then, like a pack of wolves, the miners rushed out from their hiding-places. They swarmed over the lifeless bodies and made sure the men were dead. Another half-dozen shots rang out as the master magician released himself from his rigging and dropped down to his men.
‘They’re dead!’ Hayes yelled out. ‘Quit shooting.’
Bob Tobey and the rest of the men ceased their mindless firing at the bullet-ridden corpses.
‘Grab them horses,’ Hayes ordered. ‘That’s what we wanted. Their horses.’
The miners did as they were told. Henson walked to where Hayes stood with one of the horses, a broad smile wreathing his features. ‘You was right, Will. Them two varmints come like a bear to a honey pot.’
‘Two good strong horses,’ Rance Bean noted. ‘Reckon they’ll be able to carry a whole lot of gold out of here, boys.’
‘I knew that the sound of small explosions would either frighten them away or draw them into my trap, boys,’ Hayes said, nodding. ‘Now we got us two more horses to carry our spoils out of this forest.’
Pete Brown had carefully checked both bodies for any clues to their identities. He stood with blood-covered hands and stepped over what remained of the outlaws. He rubbed the gore off on his clothing and spat at the ground.
‘These critters had no papers on them.’
Hayes paced to the dead men, placed his knuckles on his hips and stared down at their handiwork. ‘Good! I reckon they ain’t gonna be missed. Most important folks got something with their names on it. These are just saddle tramps, I reckon. No one will ever miss them.’
‘They had a few bucks between them,’ Brown added. ‘Nothing more.’
Sly Rowe pushed his smoking gun back into its holster. ‘We gonna bury them, Will?’
Hayes shook his head. ‘Nah, just kick their bloody carcasses into the river, boys. Let the river dispose of them.’
A cheerless laughter erupted from the six men.
The miners did as they were instructed and kicked the lifeless bodies over the muddy ground into the river. It did not take long before the strong current dragged them out into the white water. They watched the two bodies being washed downriver with a cruel, heartless satisfaction.
But as they watched the remains of the luckless men disappearing in the waves none of them had any idea that other eyes were also observing them.
Eyes which now knew the truth. Hakatan had seen the men who masqueraded as gods unmasked.
Silently he stepped back into the shadows.
Chapter Twelve
No caged animal could have shown as much fury as Iron Eyes. The tall man was angry. Not with the countless outlaws he had faced during his bloody past but angry with something he did not comprehend. Doc Lowe watched silently as the bounty hunter paced around the confines of his small office like a puma trying to find a means of escape. The old doctor knew that there were no words which could calm the fearsome hunter of men. Nothing he could either say or do could restore the sight of a man who by rights ought to be dead. Time and luck were the only things which might bring back the sight to the bullet-colored eyes. But Iron Eyes was not a man to wait.
Panic had overwhelmed the man with the pair of deadly Navy Colts jutting from his pants be
lt. Panic at realizing that he might actually never see again. To a hunter who relied on all his honed senses to outwit and kill his prey it meant that his life was virtually over.
Iron Eyes was blind. At last he had admitted it to himself. Chairs had been upturned as the thin creature had bumped into them in his fury of frustration. What burned the hottest inside Iron Eyes was the fact that he was helpless.
Helpless to do anything but wait.
As he crashed into the desk for the umpteenth time Lowe’s small, weathered hand grabbed at his long black frock-coat and stopped him.
Iron Eyes was panting like a hound. He paused and grabbed at the cement cast which surrounded his fractured skull and snarled. ‘Let go, Doc.’
‘Sit down.’
‘I don’t wanna sit down,’ Iron Eyes raged, clenching both fists. ‘I wanna see! You might as well put a bullet through my skull if I’m blind.’
Lowe released his feeble grip. ‘What about them tricks you was telling about, boy? Mighty fine tricks if I’m any judge. You managed to use you hearing to outgun that McGinty critter. You even managed to hit that silver dollar Joe tossed in the air, with your knife. Them tricks, as you call them, are skills, boy. I could live to be a hundred and I couldn’t better them.’
Iron Eyes began to calm down. ‘But I gotta be able to see.’
‘And you will.’ Lowe’s voice was reassuring.
Iron Eyes felt himself being guided into the chair next to the older man. He fumbled in his pocket and produced a cigar and match.
‘When?’
‘That I can’t be certain of, son,’ Lowe said.
Iron Eyes ran a thumbnail over the top of the match. It erupted into flame. He sucked in the smoke and threw his head back. He winced in pain for a few seconds.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lowe asked.
‘My head hurt,’ came the resigned reply. ‘It’s OK now. When’s that lawman gonna get back here?’
Lowe looked out of the window at the street beyond. It was bathed in sunshine. ‘He said he was taking your horse to be fed and watered.’