The Curse of Iron Eyes (6 page)

Calhoon downed the
drink and felt the warmth starting to burn through the dust that
had been choking him for his entire ride to this remote place. But
he was still none the wiser as to what the large man wanted of
him.

‘
I’m curious.
What do you need a dynamite man for?’

Big
Jack toyed with the glass in his hand. ‘To blow something up,
Harve. What else?’

‘
But
what?’

Brady grinned
broadly.

‘
That’s
something that I’ll tell you tomorrow when I get the rest of the
boys together.’

Harve
Calhoon accepted another glass of whiskey and raised it to his dry,
cracked lips. He could not imagine what use his expertise with
dynamite could possibly be to the gigantic man before him. But he
had known Brady too many years to underestimate the man’s prowess
at planning and executing the most daring of robberies.

Whatever Big Jack Brady
had in mind, it must be like the outlaw himself. Big!

The
sun was still blazing down over the sand-colored canyon walls and
filling the deep trails that wound their way tortuously through it.
It was like standing inside an oven with no protection. Even the
shadows seemed little cooler than the direct sunlight. The platoon
were suffering and their superior officer knew it.

This was a place where
things died.

He would not take risks
with the lives of his men.

The
troopers were gathered around the chuck wagon, drinking and eating
the hastily prepared meal. Captain Wallis had decided that his men
and their mounts required constant stops to fill themselves with
water if they were ever to make it through Devil’s Pass.

The
seasoned officer leaned his rigid back against the sand-colored
rock face and stared up at the cloudless blue sky above the canyon
walls and at the black-winged birds that flew in circles, watching
everything in the canyon.

Wallis had never liked
vultures.

Of all the deadly
creatures which he had encountered upon coming westward after
leaving West Point, it was the vulture that chilled him the
most.

Venomous snakes and scorpions had never troubled him even
though they could kill even men of Sergeant Hanks’ build. There had
always been something grim about the ugly birds, which were capable
of tearing the flesh from anything already killed by
another.

They were so lazy, and
yet so majestic once airborne.

He sipped at his
canteen and continued watching them floating around over the tops
of the cliffs.

They were waiting.

Waiting for death to
grant them another free meal.

Hanks walked up to his
superior and offered one of the tin plates of stew to him.

‘
Don’t pay them
birds no heed, sir.’

Captain Wallis accepted
the plate and stared at the food upon it.

Td ask
what this is but I think it might be wise to wait until I’ve eaten
it, Hanks.’

Hanks lifted a spoonful
of the stew up to his mouth and began chewing it. His eyebrows rose
in surprise.

‘
It’s
good.’

The captain tried some,
then nodded in agreement.

‘
I wonder what
the meat in this stew is?’

‘
Best not be too
nosy, sir. Cookie can get a tad ornery when it comes to discussing
his recipes.’

Wallis continued
eating.

‘
Do you like
vultures, Hanks?’

Hanks paused his
chewing.

‘
Ain’t never
tasted one, sir. Reckon this is chicken or beef,
though.’

Wallis glanced at the
grinning man and then back up at the circling birds.

‘
Don’t they make
you feel like they’re just waiting for you to drop
dead?’

‘
Had me a wife
once who did that.’ Hanks continued eating. ‘That’s why I enlisted.
To get away from that bitch. Compared to her, them vultures are
damn attractive, sir.’

Wallis looked across at
his men who were watering their horses and eating. He then looked
around the canyon. This was a place that he would never come within
a hundred miles of if it were not for the orders in his breast
pocket.

‘
Do you think
that it’s getting hotter, Hanks?’ the officer scooping up another
spoonful of the stew.

‘
Yep. Hotter
than hell.’

Wallis loosened the
collar stud under his sweating chin and gave a long sigh.

‘
I’ve never seen
horses lather up like this when they’re only walking. This place is
deadly.’

‘
This is a
dangerous place OK, sir.’ Hanks finished his meal and licked the
plate clean. ‘Them papers must be mighty important for you to be
ordered to bring us into here. I wonder why you’ve had to bring us
here?’

‘
They are very
important, Hanks.’

Hanks
smiled and accepted the plate from the officer. ‘You still ain’t
gonna tell me what them orders say, are you?’

‘
Not
yet.’

‘
I reckon I’ll
have to just fret about it, then.’

Captain Wallis looked
back up at the vultures.

‘
Tell Cookie
that I enjoyed the stew and inform the men that we’ll be heading on
in exactly five minutes.’

‘
Yes, sir.’
Hanks shrugged and began walking back to the chuck
wagon.

Now
the true magnitude of the canyon walls became clear to the bounty
hunter. He had never ridden this way before and knew that if it
were not for the tracks of Calhoon’s horse in the sand before him,
and the rider with the deadly buffalo gun somewhere behind him, he
would not be here now. His eyes strained to see in the shimmering
heat haze as he urged the terrified pony on. He could just about
see what remained of the outlaw’s tracks leading into the pass
before him but it was the thought of becoming a target to such an
ugly weapon that kept him moving forward.

Iron Eyes thundered
across the hot white sand, knowing that he had to get as much
distance between himself and his pursuer as possible. He had not
looked behind him for more than ten minutes knowing that to even
attempt to do so would slow the pace of the Indian pony beneath
him.

He
would find out soon enough when the hunter with the buffalo gun had
reached the sandy dune. He just hoped that he would be able to
outride the deadly cartridge that would seek his back.

The pony headed
straight between the high canyon walls and into the wide valley.
Iron Eyes whipped the shoulders of his mount with the long loose
ends of his reins.

Then he heard the sound
that he had dreaded.

It sounded like a
thunderclap.

The
echo of the shot bounced off the sand-colored walls as he rode
between them.

The
buffalo gun had been fired far behind the unshod hoofs of the pony.
The sound of the bullet passing within inches of him made the
bounty hunter’s blood boil with anger.

Who dared shoot at Iron
Eyes?

As he
forced his mount on to find even greater speed, he saw a huge chunk
of the wall towering in front of him shatter under the impact of
the large-caliber bullet.

Debris exploded into
the air.

Iron Eyes hauled his
reins to the side, leaned over the neck of the startled creature
and spurred again. Now he turned his head and stared back at the
mounted man far behind him, with the buffalo gun in his hands.

He could see the man
aiming once more.

Another deafening shot
cut through the hot air and hit the opposite canyon wall, showering
the rider with more small fragments of rock and dust.

He galloped on with
even more determination to get out of range of the gruesome
weapon.

Iron Eyes knew that he
was still within range of his attacker and yet luck was still on
his side. So far he had managed to avoid the lethal lead twice.

The bounty hunter began
to force his pony to zigzag across the hot sand. He knew that it
was far harder to hit a skilled horseman than a stationary
buffalo.

Harder
and harder Iron Eyes urged the pony on into the hot sun-baked pass.
He knew that he had to try to cover another fifty or so yards to
ensure that he was well beyond the range of the mighty
gun.

But it was not so
easy.

The
sand beneath the Apache pony’s hoofs was soft and yielding. It was
not the best ground over which to maintain any speed and Iron Eyes
knew that the lathered-up pony was flagging beneath him.

Then
the bounty hunter felt the sheer power of another shot tearing
through the flapping tails of his long trail coat. A split second
later the noise of the rifle shot erupted all around him. The force
of the bullet as it hit the coattail was powerful enough to cause
the pony to stumble and make its master fight just to remain atop
its back.

The pony went down on
its knees.

Iron
Eyes felt himself falling but grabbed at the pony’s neck as the
bullet struck rock a few yards ahead of him. More debris showered
over him as his long legs hit the ground.

A
cloud of dust rose into the air from the pony’s hoofs.

For a
few moments, Iron Eyes could see nothing as he clung desperately to
the pony’s rearing neck. For a few precious moments the bounty
hunter had cover from the deadly rifle that he knew was still
seeking his destruction.

As the swirling dust
cleared his keen eyes spotted the distant rider once more galloping
after him. Iron Eyes knew that the rifleman must have thought that
he had finally hit his target.

The horseman behind him
did not wish for his prey to get out of the range of his lethal
weapon. He was coming in for the kill.

Whoever he was, the
rider was determined to finish off Iron Eyes once and for all.

Iron Eyes knew that he
only had a few seconds before his opponent realized his mistake.
After steadying the frightened animal, the bounty hunter swiftly
checked himself and the pony. Blood trailed down the outside of his
left leg from where the bullet had torn across his thigh. The bony
fingertips touched the graze.

He winced.

But it was not as bad
as some of his untended wounds.

To his relief, the pony
at least was unscathed.

Iron
Eyes lifted the left-hand tail of his long coat. It was virtually
blown away. What was left of it was little more than smoldering
threads.

‘
Whoever you
are, stranger,’ Iron Eyes growled as he gathered up his reins, ‘I’m
gonna kill you real slow.’

He
caught his breath and stepped back into his stirrup again. He
mounted the pony and spurred once more. The animal thundered deeper
into Devil’s Pass.

He was now more than
angry.

He was furious.

Even Iron Eyes did not
try to shoot folks in the back, not even if they had a price on
their head.

The two Navy Colts in
his belt were virtually useless at this distance. He knew it was
pointless even trying to shoot back at the rider with the buffalo
gun. There was no way that his pistols could compete with such a
formidable weapon.

But the buffalo gun had
one drawback. Having such large bullets, it had to be reloaded
after every shot.

As he rode on, Iron
Eyes began to formulate a plan in his mind.

A plan that would
require nerves of steel and perfect timing.

Iron Eyes noticed that
the canyon pass was becoming narrower and narrower the further he
rode into it. Whether this was a good or bad thing, he had no idea.
The bounty hunter lashed the long ends of his reins across the
bloodied shoulders of his galloping mount forcing it ever
onward.

Even wounded, Iron Eyes
was still a terrifying sight as he balanced in his stirrups with
his long black hair flapping on the collar of his trail coat like
the wings of a fleeing bat desperately seeking sanctuary.

With gritted teeth he
watched as dozens of vultures swooped down the pass towards him.
The great birds were travelling in the opposite direction to the
bleeding rider as they caught the aroma of the eight dead bodies he
had left out on the sand dunes behind him.

Iron
Eyes had left them the biggest meal they had ever had in the form
of the dead Apaches. The vultures would not stop feeding off the
human carcasses until the bones were picked clean or coyotes drove
them off.

But
none of this meant anything to Iron Eyes. The sound of his mount’s
thundering hoofs echoed all around him yet he paid no attention to
the noise.

All he could think
about was finding somewhere in this godforsaken place that might
allow him to take cover and ambush the man who had been trying to
put a bullet in his back for the past fifteen or more minutes.

Iron Eyes spurred the
horse into the sweltering sun-baked pass and knew that this place
was not designed to protect the hunted, only the hunter. Its smooth
towering walls had little shape to them and that troubled the
bounty hunter.

If he stopped his
horse, he knew that he could not climb the canyon walls. Nobody
could. They were just too smooth. It was as if nature itself had
sanded them down.

Iron Eyes needed a
corner, a jagged boulder or anything that might be large enough to
shield himself and his mount from the deadly buffalo gun.

He thundered on.

There had to be a place
where he could dismount and wait for the rider to get within the
range of his deadly Navy Colts, he kept telling himself.