The Wrath of Iron Eyes (An Iron Eyes Western #5) Read online

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  The notorious but disfigured bounty hunter Iron Eyes merely hunted men for the price of their head and then killed them without compunction. But when he encounters the beautiful daughter of a banker, he finds a woman who does not turn away from his horrific appearance. Riding after yet another outlaw, Iron Eyes is attacked and wounded by Indians. He then discovers that Mexican bandits have kidnapped the banker’s daughter and so, barely alive, he uses his unique hunting skills to track the villains . . .

  THE WRATH OF IRON EYES

  IRON EYES 5

  By Rory Black

  First Published in 2003 by Robert Hale Limited

  Copyright © 2003 by Rory Black

  This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

  Published by Piccadilly Publishing at Smashwords: April 2014

  Text © Piccadilly Publishing

  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. If you’re reading the book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover image © 2014 by Carl Yonder

  Series Editor: Ben Bridges

  Published by Arrangement with the Author.

  Dedicated with thanks to the world’s finest comic book artist, my friend Bill Black

  Chapter One

  The cruel storm had started just before sundown. By the time darkness had overwhelmed the bounty hunter, he was drenched to the bone. The lightning flashes above the desolate range gave the grim rider brief glimpses of his prey. But never long enough or close enough for Iron Eyes to pick him off.

  It was like trying to catch the lightning itself, but Iron Eyes refused to quit. He had invested too much time to even consider stopping his relentless pursuit.

  Every few minutes the narrow, cold steel eyes spotted the fleeing rider as forked lightning splintered from the sky and found something on the ground to strike. Rain poured down mercilessly, stinging the hide of the bedraggled pony and its determined master, who refused to give up.

  It felt to Iron Eyes that he had incurred the wrath of the very elements themselves as he drove the spent pony on and on knowing the man he was hunting had a far superior animal beneath his saddle. But this did not stop his attempt to gain ground on the horse-thief he had been tracking.

  Then Iron Eyes felt his mount stumble and knew that if he were to catch up with the man he was chasing, he had to allow the pony to rest for a few minutes. Iron Eyes drew in his reins and sat astride the exhausted animal, watching the black horizon for clues to where his prey had gone. For more than five minutes the bounty hunter waited for another flash of lightning to illuminate the scene. Then it was as if the heavens had declared war on the very earth beneath it. Bolts of white lightning carved twisted routes down out of the clouds above him. Cactus and joshua trees took the full impact of the electrical strikes, exploding into flames all around the mounted rider until the ceaseless rain extinguished them.

  Suddenly the pony jolted in terror as Iron Eyes gripped his reins firmly in his bony hands and fought to maintain control of the skittish animal.

  Only when the pony collapsed beneath him and he hit the ground did Iron Eyes hear the sound of the rifle shots above the deafening roar of the thunderclaps.

  He rolled away from the horse and drew both his pistols from his belt. As light flashed across the prairie again he saw his quarry firing directly at him from atop a ridge. Bullets flashed over the dead horse, narrowly missing the bounty hunter. Iron Eyes blasted both his Navy Colts at the horse-thief but his shots were short of range.

  The horseman let loose again.

  The wet ground splashed all around Iron Eyes as the bullets of the horse-thief s Winchester tried to kill his hunter as neatly as it had finished off the pony.

  Iron Eyes threw himself down next to the dead animal and tried desperately to pull his own rifle from its scabbard beneath the saddle. It was no use, the carbine was trapped under the full weight of the stricken horse.

  Another volley of lead hit the carcass of the pony. Iron Eyes kept down behind its bulk and gritted his teeth. He knew that unless the rider came within range of his trusty pistols, there was no way he could kill the outlaw.

  But although Ben Drake was a skilled horse-thief and a reasonable shot, he was also not stupid. There was no way he was going to ride into the range of the Navy Colts.

  As another flash of lightning lit up the scene, Iron Eyes watched the rider turning his dapple-gray mount around and then ride off into the darkness.

  Iron Eyes rose to his feet and stared through the driving rain at where he had last seen the elusive Ben Drake. Without a second’s hesitation, the long-legged man unbuckled his saddlebags from the dead pony, tossed them over his shoulder and started to walk after the outlaw.

  He had no idea how far it was to the next town, but he knew that Drake would go there and feel confident enough to stay, knowing that the one man who had dogged his trail for so many days was on foot out on the range.

  After only a few minutes of walking through the pouring rain, Iron Eyes started to increase his pace until he was no longer merely walking.

  He was running.

  As the sky mocked his every stride, Iron Eyes continued running into the unknown. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he would catch up with the man he was hunting and claim the reward.

  Horse-thieves were wanted dead or alive and that suited Iron Eyes just fine.

  Ben Drake was living on borrowed time.

  Ben Drake had a bounty on his head. A bounty that Iron Eyes had already determined would be his.

  Chapter Two

  Lightning forked down viciously from the angry heavens and rain continued to fall, and there was no sanctuary for the man who had been hunted to the small remote town by the legendary bounty hunter.

  Even darkness could not disguise the sheer power of the tall, emaciated figure who clutched the grips of his matched Navy Colts firmly in his skeletal hands and stood watching the busy saloon. Iron Eyes stood like a statue in the centre of the wide street totally unaware of the rain that had been pounding down for more than three hours. But Iron Eyes had only been in the small border town of Cripple Creek for a mere ten minutes. He had informed the sheriff of his intentions and then wandered through the rain until he had located the Blue Garter saloon. This was the last saloon within the small six-street town.

  With the tails of his long trail coat swaying in the evening breeze. Iron Eyes chewed on the end of his long-extinguished cigar and brooded. Spotting the distinctive dapple-gray mare tied up outside the noisy saloon, the bounty hunter suddenly knew that his prey was within spitting distance of his guns.

  So close Iron Eyes imagined he could smell him.

  Countless people had passed by the tall lethal figure, yet he had paid them no heed. He had only one thought in his mind and that was to kill the outlaw he knew was oblivious to his presence in Cripple Creek.

  He had travelled fifty miles to administer his own brand of justice and lay claim to the one thousand dollar reward money. Nothing but the price on the head of horse-thief Ben Drake could end this now.

  Iron Eyes’ long wet hair was hanging lifelessly over his scarred features as
the relentless rain beat down upon him. But he was like a puma stalking its next victim. He had his prey’s scent in his flared nostrils and only death could stop him from completing what he had started a few days earlier.

  The Wanted poster had said Dead or Alive. That was all the information Iron Eyes required to unleash his fury. Dead meant dead.

  There was no other way.

  His bony thumbs pulled back the hammers of his matched pistols until they locked fully into position.

  Iron Eyes was now ready.

  Ready to kill Ben Drake and anyone else who got in his way for that matter. Blood was his signature and he had signed his name throughout the West. Few lawmen ever questioned the tall bounty hunter before, during or after he had unleashed his venomous weaponry. If innocent people got killed whilst he was dishing out his lethal lead, nothing was ever said.

  He was a law unto himself.

  The tall ruthless bounty hunter strode across the muddy street and stepped up on to the boardwalk. He paused and stared over the swing-doors into the brightly illuminated bar room. He studied each of the men who were drinking and gambling with a coldness that was unique to the man known as a living ghost.

  Then he recognized a face from the Wanted poster he had neatly folded in one of his deep pockets. The man was wearing a damp top coat and was seated near the back of the long bar next to a carpeted staircase.

  That was Ben Drake, Iron Eyes thought.

  Iron Eyes entered the saloon silently. Only his bloodstained spurs made any noise whatsoever. They jangled like the ominous knell of death.

  The bounty hunter walked through the crowded room towards his goal. As he passed by the saloon’s customers, every one of them stopped talking.

  They had never seen anything remotely like this grisly apparition before.

  By the time the bounty hunter had reached the round card-table where Drake was seated, the room was totally silent. Every soul within the Blue Garter just stood watching to see what the stranger in the long bloodstained coat would do next. They all gave a sigh of relief when they realized that it was not they whom the man with the Navy Colts in his hands was seeking, but Drake. It was if they were afraid to even breathe in Iron Eyes’ presence, for fear of his deadly retribution.

  The horse-thief looked up from his beer-glass and felt his jaw dropping until it touched his bandanna. Steam rose from Iron Eyes as if he were about to burst into flame. Drake gulped at the image that was glaring down at him through the strands of wet, dripping hair.

  The burning eyes of the tall thin figure did not blink once as Iron Eyes raised both pistols until they were aiming straight at Ben Drake’s head.

  ‘Ben Drake?’

  ‘I could be. Who the hell are you, stranger?’ Drake asked meekly.

  ‘The man who is gonna kill you, Drake,’ came the low-pitched reply. ‘They call me Iron Eyes.’

  ‘Iron Eyes?’ Drake’s voice repeated the name in total disbelief. He knew of the bounty hunter who, it was said, could not be killed because he was already dead. ‘Why do you want to kill little ol’ me?’

  ‘Why not?’ Iron Eyes replied. ‘You’re a horse-thief and wanted dead or alive.’

  ‘That don’t mean ya have to kill me, Iron Eyes.’ Drake tried to clear his throat of the dryness that suddenly filled it. ‘I could walk with you to the sheriff’s office. You’ll still get the reward money.’

  Iron Eyes had already noticed that Drake’s left hand was out of sight beneath the round card-table.

  ‘I don’t work that way, Drake.’

  ‘That’s a crying shame,’ the horse-thief said. ‘For you!’

  Ben Drake squeezed the trigger of the Remington that he had concealed in his left hand beneath the table. A bullet ripped through the wooden surface, sending splinters showering over the bounty hunter. The deadly lead ball skimmed the bounty hunter’s temple. Iron Eyes felt blood tracing down his face.

  Without a second’s hesitation, both barrels of the matched Navy Colts blasted their lethal reply. What was left of the outlaw’s head splattered over the wall behind the chair as the body fell on to the sawdust-covered floor.

  Iron Eyes turned and faced the crowd. With blood covering half his face, he now looked even more horrific than usual.

  ‘Can one of you bring me a bottle of rye?’ he said, pushing his guns back into his belt.

  The nervous bartender grabbed a bottle from the shelving beside the long mirror and cautiously walked to the tall bounty hunter. He handed him the whiskey.

  ‘This OK?’

  ‘It’ll do.’ Iron Eyes accepted the bottle and pulled the cork with his small razor-sharp teeth. He spat it away and then poured the fiery liquid over the bleeding gash on his temple. There was no sign that the strong liquor hurt the emotionless figure as it seared into the wound. Standing to his full imposing height, Iron Eyes drank what was left of the whiskey and then handed the empty bottle back to the nervous barkeep.

  ‘How much do I owe you?’ Iron Eyes asked, running his long fingers through his limp hair, revealing a face which had been victim to many battles.

  ‘Nothing, friend,’ came the quiet reply. ‘It’s on the house.’

  ‘Much obliged.’ Iron Eyes nodded.

  ‘Did I hear right? Are you Iron Eyes?’

  ‘Yep. Why?’ Iron Eyes picked up a cigar from what was left of the card-table and placed it between his teeth. The bartender struck a match and lit the cigar. Iron Eyes inhaled deeply and savored the strong smoke that filled his lungs.

  ‘No reason.’ The bartender swallowed hard. He had heard of the infamous bounty hunter but until now had thought the tales of the man who seemed more dead than alive were all made up. The sight before him was far more frightening than any of the stories he had heard told across his bar over the years.

  Iron Eyes leaned over and grabbed the left foot of Ben Drake. He dragged the bleeding body through the sawdust down the length of the saloon.

  The stunned, silent patrons watched the smoke trailing from the mouth of Iron Eyes as he dragged his prey out of the saloon.

  Chapter Three

  Sheriff Tom Hardin had studied the strange bounty hunter for more than an hour as he waited patiently for the wire to arrive with confirmation from El Paso that would allow him to pay out the one thousand dollar reward money. With little remaining of Ben Drake’s face and head, the sheriff had to verify the horse-thief s identity with the customers of the Blue Garter saloon.

  That had been easy but the delay of waiting for El Paso to sanction the payment of the bounty seemed to take what was left of the night. Every second had felt like a lifetime to the balding law officer as he had waited with the ghostlike Iron Eyes in his drag office.

  What unnerved the sheriff was that Iron Eyes just sat with the grips of his Navy Colts jutting from his belt. It was hard to tell if the man was asleep or awake for his eyes never fully closed. The eerie glare was haunting.

  After an hour of nearly total silence, Iron Eyes had said little more than a half-dozen words. Each one had been barely audible and had merely responded to questions in the most economical fashion.

  ‘You ought to get yourself a room in the hotel and rest up, Iron Eyes,’ Hardin suggested. ‘I figure that you ain’t slept in a few days by the look of you.’

  The eyes that were the color of lead shot darted a glance across the room at the sheriff.

  ‘I don’t intend staying in this godforsaken town a second longer than it takes to get me my bounty,’ Iron Eyes growled.

  ‘The hotel rooms have got nice soft beds and for a few bucks extra you can get room service.’ The sheriff raised both his eyebrows. ‘If you get my drift?’

  Iron Eyes shook his head.

  ‘I ain’t hungry.’

  ‘That ain’t exactly what I was getting at.’ Hardin sighed heavily. He wondered what kind of man Iron Eyes was, if he were a man at all. He had seen corpses that looked more alive than this infamous hunter of men. ‘And there’s the matter of you buying a new
horse.’

  ‘I got me a horse.’

  ‘You have?’ Hardin was confused.

  ‘I got me a nice dapple-gray courtesy of Ben Drake.’ Iron Eyes turned his head and stared at the office door as if he instinctively knew it would soon open.

  The sound of footsteps running along the boardwalk echoed inside the sheriff’s small office a few seconds before the door swung open. Joe Baker the telegraph man rushed in, crossed the room and handed a scrap of paper to the rotund lawman. Hardin searched his pockets vainly for his spectacles and then looked at the telegraph man.

  ‘What’s it say, Joe?’ Hardin asked tiredly.

  ‘You’re supposed to read it yourself,’ Baker said.

  ‘If I knew where my gold rims were, I would,’ Hardin snapped at the man. ‘You already know what’s in it, anyway. Read it to me.’

  Joe Baker cleared his throat when he caught sight of the figure of Iron Eyes seated near the large window, staring out at the rising sun.

  ‘It just says to pay the bounty, Tom.’

  Iron Eyes stood and walked across the dismal office and leaned over the desk where Tom Hardin was sitting.

  ‘Give me the money and I’ll be going, Sheriff.’

  Hardin felt his blood run cold when he stared up into the grim features of the man who still had dried blood covering half his face. Never in all his days had he set eyes upon a man who looked so ravished by life itself.

  ‘I don’t keep any money here. We’ll have to wait for the bank to open up, Iron Eyes,’ he informed the bounty hunter.

  ‘How long will that be, Sheriff?’ Iron Eyes whispered into the ear of the lawman.

  ‘The bank opens at ten.’ Hardin felt sweat trickling down the side of his face as terror filled his overweight body.

  Iron Eyes looked up at the wall clock. It was nearly five-thirty-six. His ice-cold stare returned to the seated man.

  ‘I ain’t waiting for another four or five hours.’ There was something in the sheer tone of the voice that told the lawman he had better act and act quickly.