Iron Eyes 13 Page 6

  Frustrated, Sheriff Hawkins turned away from the defiant bounty hunter and glanced up at the wall clock. There was still seven hours left before sunup. He faced the window as another blinding flash of lightning lit up the streets of San Remo. He rubbed his neck and looked over his shoulder.

  ‘You’ll die, Iron Eyes. All because your damn stubborn.’

  ‘We’re all gonna die, Sheriff.’ Iron Eyes sighed. ‘Maybe it’s best if n you can’t see it coming.’

  Chapter Nine

  The previous night’s storm had not slowed them. They feared what lay behind them far more than the rods of lightning which had exploded all around their bedraggled forms. Yet neither Whip Slater or Clem Barker had ever ventured into a place so fearsome as the forested valley before. All their gun skills were of no use in such primitive surroundings. The creatures that killed here did not require artificial assistance to achieve their bloody goals. Sharp claws and teeth were a match for bullets in this uncharted land. The forest held a million unseen dangers that neither man knew anything about. They were like children here, children faced with something potentially lethal yet beyond their comprehension. The dense brush which obstructed almost every gap between the countless tree trunks emitted sounds along the length of the valley such as neither rider had ever heard before. The growls of bears and the nerve-shattering sound of large cats hung over both outlaws as the true vastness of this place became clear to them. They were out of their depth but fear kept them going: fear of the bounty hunter they knew would not rest until he had added them to his tally.

  This was no border town main street with the sound of guitars and pianos filling the air. This was a wild land which looked as though no two-legged creature had ever ventured into it before. But the totem poles told a different story. Totem poles marked the length of the river as if declaring ownership. Neither Slater nor Barker had seen them until the sun had risen.

  Now it was far too late to do anything but continue on their long ride. Silently both outlaws wondered whether the people who had carved these tall wooden totems still dwelled in the forested valley.

  During the hours of darkness both riders had skimmed the bank of the river on their journey. Now as the first rays of a new dawn began to illuminate everything which surrounded them they slowly started to realize that they might have made a mistake.

  This was no ordinary short cut they were travelling along astride their weary mounts. This was something far more dangerous. Both men’s heads darted from side to side as one sound after another rose up as their horses walked in the cold fast-flowing water which raced back to where they had started their journey. Each sound was unknown to them. Each sound heralded their arrival to all the other creatures who lay hidden under the carpet of lush greenery which stretched away on all sides.

  Slater had looked back many times since sunup. There was no trace of the place where they had come from. Only tall trees, rising up to the very heavens, met his tired eyes. And the totem poles.

  Barker looked ahead and to both sides as he led the way. His nerves were shot but he refused to allow his partner to see his barely contained terror. The low mist ahead of them seemed to hang in the air like the spirits of long dead people. There was no wind here to dispel the eerie clouds. No wind at all.

  Both outlaws knew that however dangerous this valley was it was nothing to the peril which lay behind them. They had seen how Iron Eyes dispatched his venom. How he collected his bounty money. His blood money. There were no sweet words from the thin man dressed in the garb of an undertaker. He did not attempt to bring his victims in alive even though he had that option. To Iron Eyes dead or alive simply meant dead.

  The vision of the ruthless hunter of men had kept both men spurring their horses during the entire length of the long dark night. The valley with its unknown creatures could not hold a candle to the terrifying image of Iron Eyes.

  Again both men spurred their spent horses.

  ‘How far we gotta ride, Whip?’ Barker asked over his shoulder. ‘We gotta be close to reaching the end of this damn valley, ain’t we?’

  Slater drew his horse level with his companion. He rubbed his whiskered face and glanced at the slightly younger outlaw. ‘I ain’t sure, but I figure it’ll take us another couple of days to get to clear ground and Providence.’

  Barker’s head swung to look straight at Slater. ‘What? We gotta keep riding through here for another couple of days? I ain’t happy about that. Nope. I sure ain’t.’

  ‘You wanna turn back?’ Slater shouted across the short distance between them. ‘We bin riding for maybe eight hours or more and that’s a lot of ground to cover. We have to just keep going.’

  ‘I don’t like the look of them totem poles. Whip,’ Barker said, pointing as they passed yet another. ‘In the dark I figured they was trees but they ain’t trees. Damn it all, they ain’t trees!’

  ‘They just mean that there used to be Injuns along here.’ Slater said, trying to convince himself that there was nothing to worry about. ‘Look at them. Rotten. I reckon the folks that made ’em are long dead.’

  More strange sounds echoed about the two horsemen. It was impossible to tell where the sounds originated or what had made them. Barker cleared his throat.

  ‘What was that noise, Whip?’ he croaked. ‘A bear maybe, or a puma? Huh? We could be heading towards a pack of wolves for all we knows. I don’t cotton to this damn place. Injuns! I bet it’s a whole tribe of them sending messages to each other about us. I bet they’re planning to hang our scalps on their war lances already.’

  ‘Will you quit babbling?’ Slater pleaded and sighed. He was as confused and as frightened as his pal but it did not appear to show so readily. ‘I figure we got us enough fire power between us to kill any critter that might get close, Clem. OK?’

  ‘I’m going loco here.’ Barker pulled back on his reins. His horse stopped and dropped its head to the fresh water. ‘I’m tuckered out, Whip. Me and my horse both. We gotta get us some shut-eye. I can’t think no more.’

  Slater eased his own horse to a halt and looked back at Barker. He studied the surrounding trees. He nodded. ‘You’re right, Clem. We need to sleep and get the weight off these horses’ backs. They’ll drop for sure if we keep pushing them ahead the way we bin doing. While we sleep they can rest and graze.’ Barker looked around them again. So many bushes and so many trees. It felt as though a thousand eyes were watching their every move. The sounds of the forest teased their ears again. ‘I figure we oughta sleep in turns, Whip. Anything could creep up on us if we was both sleeping.’

  Again Slater nodded. ‘You’re right.’

  Both men dismounted cautiously. Their tired eyes darted about at every little noise that came out of the green brush all around them.

  The floor of the forest had not seen much of the storm which had passed over the mountains and the valley during the long hours of darkness. The river had swollen only slightly as both outlaws led their horses away from the water’s edge to a line of saplings.

  ‘We’ll bed down here.’ Slater pointed as he lifted his stirrup and fender and began to unhitch his cinch. ‘These young trees will guard our backs.’

  Barker looked beyond the saplings. Whatever lay further away from the place where they stood was shrouded in blackness. ‘You sure this is a safe spot, Whip? Might be wild critters in there just waiting to kill and eat us.’

  Slater hauled his saddle off the back of his horse and laid down. He looped his reins around the horn of the saddle and secured them firmly. ‘Let ’em eat me. I’m too damn tired to care.’

  Barker pulled his own saddle off the back of his mount. Steam rose into the air. ‘These horses need rubbing down.’ Slater untied his bedroll, spread it out, then lay down upon it, pulling the brim of his Stetson over his eyes. ‘Good notion, Clem. You up and rub the horses down while I get some sleep.’

  ‘That ain’t fair.’

  ‘Nothing in this damn life of ours is fair, Clem.’ Slater yawned. ‘I’
d’ve thought that you’d have worked that out by now.’

  Barker tossed his bedroll on the ground next to Slater and kicked it until it unfolded. ‘Damn the horses. I’m gonna git me some shut-eye.’

  Silently Whip Slater reached for his holstered gun and quietly pulled it free. He rested the Colt Frontier .45 on his belly.

  If anything came within a gunshot of where he lay, the outlaw was going to kill it.

  The storm had achieved one thing. It had washed and blown the dust off San Remo. Yet for three of the people within the confines of the sprawling settlement there was something else on their minds. Iron Eyes remained seated on the chair next to the cluttered desk, sipping on what remained of his last bottle of whiskey, whilst the elderly doctor slept on his couch. As the wall clock chimed Joe Hawkins moved to the bounty hunter and grabbed the bottle from the bony hands.

  ‘Gimme some of that rotgut, boy,’ the sheriff said. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long swallow of the fiery liquid. Then he sighed and returned the bottle to its owner. ‘Damn! That’s good whiskey, Iron Eyes.’

  The bounty hunter tilted his head back. ‘What time is it?’

  Hawkins glanced at the clock. ‘Nine.’

  ‘The bank open yet?’ Iron Eyes lifted the bottle and drained the remaining droplets of whiskey into his mouth. ‘I figure you ought to be headed off there getting my money, Sheriff.’

  The lawman rubbed the back of his neck and walked to the window to survey the street and the dozens of people who now walked along it. ‘It don’t open for another thirty minutes, but I’ll go and rustle up the manager and get what your owed.’

  Iron Eyes stood and carefully placed the bottle down on the desk top. He then strode to the sheriff’s side and placed a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder.

  ‘I’ll go with you.’

  ‘OK. C’mon.’ Hawkins opened the office door and led his companion out into the fresh air. Everything smelled clean. That surprised both men as they walked along the boardwalk in the direction of the bank.

  Even blind, the tall thin man could sense the fear his appearance aroused in those who saw his ghostly appearance. With the crude but effective cement cast on his skull he knew that he must be an even more horrific sight.

  ‘Folks are sure skittish in this town, Sheriff.’

  ‘Do you blame them, boy?’ Hawkins chuckled as he carefully guided the bounty hunter towards the bank and its unsuspecting manager. ‘You ain’t the prettiest thing ever to ride into San Remo.’

  Iron Eyes turned his head and listened intently. He could hear the voices of those who were genuinely terrified by what they saw.

  ‘How far?’

  Hawkins helped the tall figure up on to the raised boardwalk outside the bank, then paused. ‘Here we are. You coming in or are you staying out here?’

  Iron Eyes turned to face the street. It was as though he were searching for anyone who might be foolish enough to claw back on their gun hammer and take a quick shot at him.

  ‘Reckon I’ll just stand here and scare a few folks.’

  The sheriff tapped on the glass of the door until he was allowed to enter. For what seemed an eternity the bounty hunter just stood like a statue outside the bank. For all that time not one person came close to him. They all moved out across the street in order to give him a wide berth.

  Iron Eyes pulled a cigar from his pocket and placed it between his teeth. He chewed.

  Slater and Barker had rested for as long as they dared. Both men had resaddled their horses and mounted. It was now nearly noon; the sun was directly over the valley but neither man noticed. All either of them could think of was the sound which they had both just heard. Slater held his reins tightly and looked up the long river to where he thought he had heard something. His eyes searched vainly for a sign of what might lie up there beyond the bend in the river.

  ‘I heard me something, Clem,’ Slater said. ‘Did you hear it?’

  Barker paused. ‘Yep. What you figure it was?’

  Slater shook his head. ‘Sounded like dynamite to me.’

  ‘That’s what I figured, but who’d be using explosives here?’ Barker leaned back and pulled his Winchester from its scabbard beneath his saddle. He cocked the rifle and then rested it across his lap next to the saddle horn. ‘Reckon we ought to reconsider us turning back, Whip?’

  ‘Hush the hell up,’ Slater said. ‘I ain’t in no mood to start thinking about running away from nothing.’

  ‘If someone is using dynamite up yonder I for one don’t reckon it’s Injuns.’ Barker said. ‘But that might not be a good thing. We might be headed towards a whole bunch of real ornery white folks who don’t like trespassers.’

  Slater checked his gun. ‘Let’s go see who it is making all that noise, Clem.’ Another muffled blast came down river. Both horses spooked beneath their masters, making it necessary for the outlaws to steady them.

  ‘What’s going on up there?’

  ‘Whoever they are, if they start something, I’m ready.’ Barker patted his rifle and then tapped his spurs. The two outlaws rode towards where they had heard the muffled sounds. ‘I’m ready to kill anyone or anything, Whip. My back hurts and I’m busting for a fight.’

  Slater took a deep breath. ‘Yeah. It’s gotta be better than going backwards to run into that Iron Eyes bastard. Facing dynamite ain’t as bad as facing up to that critter. C’mon. Whoever it is making that ruckus upriver, we’ll kill ’em.’

  ‘If’n they don’t kill us first,’ Barker said. He raised himself in his stirrups and urged his horse on.

  The weary outlaws headed along the edge of the fast-flowing river toward the place where the mist hung low above the water.

  Neither of the riders realized that what lay ahead of them was quite as dangerous as what they feared behind them.

  Chapter Ten

  A lonely stagecoach was led out from the livery stables across the wide street from where the sheriff stood as the doors of the bank were locked behind him. The lawman glanced up from the handful of cash in his hands as two stablemen controlled the six-horse team whilst the driver climbed up to his high perch. Hawkins then cast his eyes to the side to where the lonely figure of the bounty hunter stood. The thin man had not moved more than a few inches since Hawkins had left him on the boardwalk. The man with the tin star pinned to his vest walked to the side of the hideous Iron Eyes and cleared his throat.

  ‘I know you’re there, Sheriff,’ Iron Eyes drawled as his left hand rose to the cement skullcap for the umpteenth time.

  ‘Reckon you do.’

  Iron Eyes lowered his arm and showed the palm of his hand to the sheriff. Hawkins obliged by putting the reward money into its dry grip.

  The sheriff pulled his pipe from his pocket and chewed on its stem thoughtfully. He still could not understand the thin figure beside him, but he knew that whatever Iron Eyes was, he was dangerous. He was also deadly even when blind.

  ‘You coming back to the office?’ Hawkins asked. ‘Doc might have a fresh pot of coffee on the stove by now.’

  ‘That don’t thrill me too much.’ Iron Eyes held the cash in his left hand as the other one rested on the sheriff’s shoulder.

  Both men were silent as they headed back to the small building where Doc Lowe still slept. As they reached the corner of the alley the bounty hunter stopped and turned his head. He stepped down on to the dusty street, moved away from the lawman and towards the big palomino stallion.

  ‘Can you see now, boy?’ Hawkins asked as he followed the tall figure to where the horse and its master stood. ‘Has your sight come back?’

  Iron Eyes stroked the neck of the horse. ‘Nope. I can’t see nothing at all, Sheriff.’

  Hawkins stood beside the strange man. ‘You caught the horse’s scent? Is that how you knew where he was?’

  ‘Nope,’ Iron Eyes replied. ‘I heard him snorting. He’s got a temper and being left out in a storm all night has just fired him up. He’s real angry with me right now.’


  ‘I never heard him snort,’ the law officer admitted. ‘I figured it’s because your eyes ain’t working that your other senses are working better.’

  Iron Eyes patted the stallion’s neck and turned to Hawkins. ‘Maybe. I like to keep him ornery, Sheriff. He’s a damn good horse but he’s better when he’s got a beef with me.’

  Hawkins patted the shoulder of the bounty hunter. ‘Let me take him to the stables and get him rubbed down, boy. There ain’t no way that you can ride out until them eyes of yours are working again. Let the horse rest.’

  The man with the gruesome face turned his head quickly. Even though his eyes could not see, they burned like fiery torches straight into the soul of the lawman. ‘What? Are you deaf or just forgetful? I told you I was riding out when I got me my blood money. That’s what I’m gonna do. I’m riding.’

  ‘But this is madness, son,’ Hawkins protested vainly. ‘I know that you’re the famed Iron Eyes. The man that they say can’t be killed but you can be killed. Them outlaws will be out there waiting someplace for you and they’ll finish you off. Mark my words. Iron Eyes, they’ll kill you.’

  Iron Eyes gripped the sheriff’s shoulder and squeezed hard. His bony fingers dug deep. ‘I’m not scared of no vermin. Anyways, how can they kill me? I’m already dead, old-timer. Ask anyone. I’m dead! You can’t kill a dead man.’

  The two men walked away from the stallion, stepped up on to the boardwalk and a few paces later entered the office. Lowe was still snoring on his leather couch. Hawkins closed the door and studied the bounty hunter closely. He watched as the thin fingers peeled off a few of the bills and slid them into his pants pocket. The rest of the bounty money he placed on the desk beside the empty whiskey bottles.

  ‘What you doing?’ the sheriff asked.

  ‘Leaving the money with old Doc,’ came the swift reply.

  ‘Why? I already got Doc’s fee from the bounty on that Kansas Drew critter you gunned down.’