Blood of Iron Eyes (12 page)

‘What the hell is he doin’ here?’ he snarled as the rest of the men rose to their feet. 

Iron Eyes had heard every word.

‘I’m here to kill ya all!’ he replied. ‘Say ya prayers!’

‘Kill him!’ Fontaine screamed out. ‘Kill the bastard!’

Every weapon was raised. Every trigger squeezed. A volley of bullets spewed from the barrels.

Like a defiant statue, Iron Eyes did not move an inch from the rail. As bullets tore past him he fired both his guns and watched as, one after another, the men fell dead around the raging Fontaine.

Only when Iron Eyes had destroyed each of the remaining hired guns did he train his guns on their leader and start down the wooden steps.

Fontaine felt the trigger of his rifle slacken as his index finger milked it. The rifle was empty.

He threw it to the floor.

‘I’m unarmed, Iron Eyes! It’s over! Ya can’t shoot an unarmed man, can ya?’

Iron Eyes walked slowly toward him with no expression on his hideous face. His unblinking eyes stared through the half-light at the sweating man.

He stopped ten feet from Fontaine. His thumbs pulled the gun hammers back again.

‘I just recalled that ya got bounty on ya head, Fontaine! I seen ya poster back in Dodge a few years back. Dead or alive!’

‘I give up! Ya got me! I don’t know how, but ya 
won!’ the sweating man stammered. ‘Ya can’t kill an unarmed man! Ya won! Don’t ya understand? Ya won!’

‘Not yet, I ain’t,’ Iron Eyes drawled slowly. Then he squeezed both his triggers. Two bullets tore through the man’s guts. He watched as Fontaine was lifted off his feet and thrown through the open doorway. He crashed on to the boardwalk outside the building. ‘Now I’ve won!’

Fire dripped down from the ceiling above the bounty hunter as he pushed both guns into his belt. He walked into the dark corridor to where he had left Carmichael and the beautiful young woman.

He tapped the door with his bony knuckles.

‘It’s over!’ he said.

Herbert Carmichael was true to his word. He ensured that Iron Eyes was paid every cent he was owed of the reward money on the heads of all the hired gunmen the bounty hunter had killed during the previous day. The territorial secretary had used some the thousands of golden fifty-dollar pieces which were in Brewster Fontaine’s own bank vault to pay Iron Eyes shortly after the
diminished
band of troopers and the armoured coach had eventually arrived at the town of Hope with their skeletal saviour.

They were a welcome sight to the residents of the remote settlement and confirmation that after so many years, they were rid of the deadly men who had ruled over them.

Captain Bob Sherwood could hardly believe that he had lost so many of his troopers in such a short period of time. Only eight of his men had survived unscathed. The rest were tied over their cavalry
saddles, waiting for the undertaker to lay them to rest.

The cavalry officer could also not fathom how the long-haired bounty hunter somehow managed to get the better of so many lethal foes. He had learned a lot when he had been at West Point, but it paled into insignificance compared with what he had been taught by Iron Eyes.

Sherwood walked from his battered and bruised men to the bank as Carmichael and his daughter watched Iron Eyes place two swollen canvas sacks in each of his saddle-bag satchels on the back of his grey mount.

‘That’s a tidy sum you earned there, Iron Eyes!’ he said as the bounty hunter stepped into his
stirrup
and hoisted himself up on to his saddle. ‘But you certainly earned every penny of it! I cannot express my gratitude enough for the way you looked after my dear Florence and myself. Thank you, Iron Eyes!’

Iron Eyes looked through his limp wisps of hair down at the two people as Sherwood joined them. He nodded silently and gave the beautiful woman a last look.

‘Thank you, Iron Eyes!’ Florence somehow managed to say. ‘I shall never forget you.’

Iron Eyes gathered up his reins and turned the horse away from the hitching rail.

‘I ain’t gonna forget you either, ma’am!’ he said.

‘Where ya headed, Iron Eyes?’ Sherwood asked 
as the grey walked towards him.

‘Ain’t figured that out yet, Captain,’ the bounty hunter replied in a low, soft tone. His small
bullet-coloured
eyes were staring towards the edge of the town where the shacks were. The place where he had been able to find refuge from Fontaine’s men whilst he recovered from his inuries. ‘Got me a call to make first, then I’m headin’ to Texas!’

‘Why Texas?’ Carmichael enquired.

Iron Eyes glanced at the large man. A hint of a smile etched his face. ‘They got a whole lotta wanted men in Texas! Always good killin’ to be had in Texas!’

The three figures watched the bounty hunter jab his spurs into the flesh of the grey. The horse responded and started to canter down the long street before Iron Eyes turned the animal and headed up behind the buildings to where the less wealthy townspeople lived.

Iron Eyes reined in and stared at the shack. Smoke still curled from its small chimney stack. The ill-fitting door opened and the small elderly female tried to see with eyes which no longer worked.

‘Who is that? Speak up, boy?’ Bessie Cooper said.

‘Iron Eyes, Bessie!’ the bounty hunter said.

‘So ya still alive, huh?’ She chuckled.

‘Fontaine ain’t, ma’am!’ Iron Eyes informed her. 

A smile traced across her face. Again, Iron Eyes could see the beauty she had once been. Age could not hide real beauty from eyes which saw far more than most.

‘Ya killed him?’

‘Yep!’

‘Good!’ The woman rested her hand on the door to aid her balance. ‘Teddy’s sleepin’ on the bed. He only finished work a few hours back.’

‘Don’t wake him, Bessie.’ Iron Eyes dismounted and opened the leather flap of the saddle-bag nearer to the shack. He hauled one of the hefty canvas sacks out of the satchel and carried it into the shack. He placed it down on the table. The legs of the table groaned under the weight.

‘What ya got there, boy?’ Bessie asked as she made her way to the tall man’s side.

‘Golden eagles, Bessie!’ Iron Eyes whispered as he watched Ted snoring on the bed. ‘A whole bunch of them.’

She did not understand.

‘I ain’t sure why ya brung that in here, boy.’

Iron Eyes walked back to the door. She held on to his arm and stopped his progress to his waiting mount. He turned and looked down at her. The white film which covered her pupils saddened him. Yet she appeared to see him better than most people who were unable to look beyond his brutal scars.

‘Bounty money, Bessie! It’s half what I earned 
for killin’ that bunch of vermin! All legal! Ya can buy yaself a better house and have plenty of money left over for you and Ted to have a nice life!’

‘But why ya givin’ it to us, boy?’ she asked. ‘It was you who done for Fontaine and his cronies, not us!’

Iron Eyes inhaled.

‘Without you and Ted, I reckon I’d not have bin able to go after them critters at all, let alone get the better of them! The money’s yours. Ya earned it!’

Bessie was about to speak when he leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek. Her misty eyes could just make out the blurred image of the tall bounty hunter as he stepped into his stirrup and mounted the grey once more.

‘Take care, boy!’ she ordered waving her finger at him.

‘I’ll surely try, Bessie!’ Iron Eyes nodded.

‘Ya a good man, Iron Eyes!’ she said as a tear trailed down her cheek. ‘A darn good man!’

He spurred and rode off between the shacks.

Ted Cooper opened his eyes and looked through the open doorway to his mother.

‘Who was that, Ma?’ He yawned.

‘Iron Eyes!’ she sighed. ‘That was our dear friend Iron Eyes, Teddy!’

Iron Eyes

The Avenging Angel

Spurs of the Spectre

The Fury of Iron Eyes

The Wrath of Iron Eyes

The Curse of Iron Eyes

The Spirit of Iron Eyes

The Ghost of Iron Eyes

Iron Eyes Must Die