The Spirit of Iron Eyes (3 page)

Conchowata narrowed his eyes
and looked through the small eye-pieces at Iron Eyes. His fingers
turned the small metal wheel until the focus was crystal clear. He
studied the bounty hunter
’s scarred face carefully. The Apache was stunned
by the sight. He had never imagined that anyone could look quite so
horrific.

‘
I
ron Eyes has been in many battles. He wears his victories
on his face.’

Diamond Back rubbed his smooth
chin thoughtfully.
‘What do you think he is, great chief? Mexican? White or
Indian?’

The Apache warrior brooded over the
question.

‘
He
not like any other men I have seen before. He not even look
alive.’

‘
He’s
alive OK.’ Jones nodded. ‘I seen him bleed. Ya gotta be alive to
bleed.’

Conchowata noticed the whiskey
bottle in the bounty hunter
’s hand. ‘Look! Iron Eyes drink
firewater!’

‘
They
reckon the varmint lives on the stuff,’ Jones informed the Indian.
‘But they say he never gets drunk. No matter how much fire-water he
drinks, he never gets drunk.’

The chief patted the
outlaw
’s
shoulder.

‘
You
did good, my brother. You have lured the living ghost into the land
of the Apache just like you said you would. At last we shall get
our revenge.’

The outlaw removed his Stetson and shook his
head. The long black hair fell on to his shoulders.

‘
I
have never
forgotten that I am an Apache, Conchowata. I have lived with the
white eyes for many moons and learned their ways. But I am like
you. I am Apache.’

The chief stared through the binoculars at
the distant figure and smiled.

‘
I
ron Eyes has been curse to our people for many moons. He
shall pay for all the crimes he has committed against us. Now it
will be him who is hunted like a dog.’

Diamond Back nodded as he stared into the
blinding sun without blinking.

This is a good day for our
people. We shall kill the evil one who has taken the lives of so
many of our brothers. We shall drink his fire-water and give thanks
to the Great Spirit.
’

Conchowata returned the black binoculars to
Jones and began to walk through his heavily painted braves towards
their mounts.

‘
We
will kill Iron Eyes very slowly. We shall strip the flesh from his
bones and feed it to our camp dogs. He shall suffer the death he
deserves. A thousand knife-points will make him loco. Then we will
make him beg us to end his agony. He shall know the vengeance of
the Apache before he travels to the happy hunting
ground.’

Diamond Back walked next to the chief as the
rest of the Apache braves followed them to the line of horses. He
had known that bringing the living ghost to his tribe would ensure
his safe passage through the land that he had grown up in. A land
that had taught him to survive.

But unlike the rest of his kind, Diamond
Back had wanted more than the Apache life could ever give him. He
had seen how the white men lived and the luxuries they enjoyed.
That was his idea of living. He wanted to walk into a cafe and have
money to buy an inch-thick steak covered in gravy. Being a ruthless
outlaw had given him that. Diamond Back Jones knew that he would
never again search for grubs to eat like the rest of his tribe. To
be only one day away from starvation held no romantic for value
him.

Diamond Back had tasted the fruits of the
white eyes.

He liked it.

But being an outlaw brought dangers. The
worst of which was the mysterious Iron Eyes. A man who seemed
neither white nor Indian. A bounty hunter who it was said could
never be killed because he was already dead.

Jones rubbed his chin again as he and the
rest of the Apache reached their mounts. Without Iron Eyes hunting
him, he could probably continue his killing and stealing until he
was too old to raise a gun in his hand.

Leading the notorious bounty hunter here had
achieved two things. It had raised his profile with the people he
had abandoned and ensured that he always had a place where he could
hide out from the law. It had also put the one man he feared in
deadly danger. He knew that even Iron Eyes could not get out of
this situation alive.

Without the most feared bounty hunter on his
trail, Jones could continue on to Texas and start killing and
robbing again until he had everything he desired.

Not that he had ever managed to get quite
enough of anything he wanted. For killing had an addictive quality
and he never seemed to be satisfied with any amount of stolen
money.

‘
We go
and capture Iron Eyes!’ Conchowata shouted to all his
braves.

Every one of the painted warriors threw
himself on the back of his pony and began to make war cries to the
cloudless sky above them.

Mounting his horse, the Apache outlaw known
as Diamond Back Jones tried to stop smiling.

It was impossible.

Iron Eyes could feel the sand beneath his
mule-ear boots moving long before he heard the spine-chilling sound
of the Apache war cries. Any normal man would have been terrified.
But not the bounty hunter.

‘
Damn
Apaches!’ Iron Eyes grumbled under his breath. He ran a match
across his saddle and brought its flame to the tip of the mangled
black cigar remnant. He sucked in the acrid smoke and then blew the
flame out. ‘I hate damn Apaches! They just can’t leave me
be.’

He tossed the match away, looked at his pony
and knew that it had little strength left after the merciless
punishment he had inflicted upon it since he had been trailing the
outlaw Jones.

‘
Get
ready, horse. I’m gonna push you ’til ya drop.’ Iron Eyes lifted
the bottle to his mouth and finished its contents.

His cold eyes focused across
the sagebrush. The hunter of men could see the dust starting to
rise as
the
Indians got closer. He inhaled the last of the smoke from the cigar
and then flicked it away angrily.

‘
There
sure looks like there’s a lot of them this time,’ he
muttered.

He tossed the empty bottle aside and stepped
into his stirrup. With one fluid movement, Iron Eyes mounted the
pony and gathered up the loose reins in his bony hands. Now he
could see the painted faces screaming in the blazing heat. There
was still no fear in him, only frustration.

‘
Damn!
Looks like the whole Apache nation has come to visit me this time,
horse.’

This was the one territory that
he hated. It was filled with dozens of creatures that seemed to
have no other purpose than killing people. They either stung, bit
or ate their prey. But of all the things to be found in this
devilish inferno, it was the Apache he loathed the most. Most
Indians he had met over the years would let him pass through their
lands, but not the Apache. They liked to fight and they were too
darn good at it for the bounty hunter
’s liking.

This territory was swarming with several
different Apache tribes, each as deadly as the next. He had
encountered most of them during his life and had the scars to prove
it.

Iron Eyes ignored the approaching warriors
and allowed the skittish mount to turn full circle slowly as he
squinted out across the rest of the arid terrain.

The heat haze made everything appear to be
moving like water flowing from a high cliff before his eyes. He
then stopped the pony and stood in his stirrups.

For a brief moment Iron Eyes thought that he
had seen something out there far beyond the sandy ridges which
surrounded the prairie. He held the pony in check and stretched to
his full height. He screwed up his eyes and forced them to search
for a place where he might find cover.

‘
I
ain’t too sure what
that is out there, but I’ll never find out hanging around here,’
Iron Eyes told himself.

The sound of the approaching Indians became
louder and louder as the rider kept staring out into the swirling
heat haze. The sound of rifles being fired rang out across the flat
landscape but he ignored it as he continued to stare at the distant
object.

Was there something out there?

Iron Eyes knew that the prairie could fool
even the wisest of souls. Make a man see lakes where there was only
burnt sagebrush. It had the power to convince the unwary that there
were solid structures where in reality there was only shimmering
hot air.

He knew that the chances of reaching
anywhere that he might be able to use for cover were remote but
Iron Eyes had to try and find sanctuary somewhere.

Bullets hit the ground a mere
dozen yards from
where his pony was standing, kicking up plumes of sand as
the riders drew closer.

‘
Easy,
horse!’ the bounty hunter told his pony, holding the reins tightly
in both hands.

Iron Eyes turned his thin neck to his right
and looked through the long limp strands of hair that fell over his
face. He could now make out the painted faces of the Apache
horsemen galloping straight at him.

There were far more of them than he had ever
witnessed in any one place at one time before.

They were riding towards him.
It was like a wall of living
color. Rifles were cocked and fired along the
entire length of the screaming warriors.

He felt the heat of a bullet pass within
inches of his face.

‘
Reckon it’s time to go, horse!’ Iron Eyes sat down on his
saddle and jabbed his sharp spurs into his pony’s flesh.

The animal bolted.

The tall thin figure allowed the pony to
find its own pace as he continued looking at the wall of Apache
riders who were closing in on him.

Iron Eyes hauled his reins to his left and
spurred again. He had to try and put distance between himself and
his deadly pursuers.

He stood up in his stirrups
again and whipped the shoulders of the exhausted pony with the ends
of his long reins as he balanced a few inches above the saddle.
Holding the reins in his left hand he drew one of his Navy Colts
from his belt and
cocked its hammer.

With his arm outstretched, he aimed and
fired again and again at the wall of Indians.

The sand beneath the
pony
’s hoofs
was becoming softer and slowing the tired mount’s progress as its
master tried to urge it one.

Iron Eyes knew that he could
take most of his weight off his mount
’s back if he were to lean over its neck.
He balanced as far forward as he dared.

‘
C’mon, horse! Get moving. You don’t want them Apaches to
catch us, do ya? They’ll kill me, but they’ll eat you!’ Iron Eyes
yelled into the pony’s ear.

The pony somehow found more speed and
started to gather pace as its rider switched guns and continued
firing at their attackers.

Iron Eyes gritted his teeth and held on to
his saddle horn as the pitiful animal continued to gallop. The
sound of shots was almost deafening as more and more of his
pursuers managed to fire their rifles at him.

The air was alive with rifle bullets passing
above and behind him. Iron Eyes whipped the pony again and then
looked ahead and saw the sandy ridge was now getting tauntingly
closer with every stride of his pony.

He narrowed his eyes and
squinted through the swirling heat haze at the ridge of
sand-
colored
rock. He saw a black triangle shape half-way up the golden rock
face.

Was it a cave?

His mind raced.

This was no mirage, Iron Eyes thought.

Whatever it was, it was real.

But there was no time to get excited. The
sound of the Indians was growing louder and louder as they gained
on him.

‘
C’mon, horse!’ The words had barely left his dry cracked
lips when he felt the animal beneath him shudder under the impact
of a rifle bullet.

The sound which came from the
animal instantly told Iron Eyes that his mount had been hit by one
or more of the Apache riders
’ bullets.

The bounty hunter hit the ground hard and
rolled like a tumbleweed when the wounded pony collapsed. He got to
his feet and continued to run towards the sandy ridge. With every
step, his skilled hands emptied the spent cartridges from his
weapons and reloaded them with bullets from his deep coat pockets.
The sound of the Indian ponies grew louder as shots rained all
around him.

Iron Eyes tripped and fell. He swung around
on the sand and narrowed his eyes before cocking both gun hammers
and firing the Navy Colts.

‘
I
hate damn Apaches!’
he growled.

Iron Eyes blasted each of his Navy Colts in
turn at the scores of riders who were driving their painted ponies
ever closer. He did not wait to watch the Apache braves falling off
their mounts as his deadly bullets found their targets. The bounty
hunter realized that the almost flat prairie offered him no cover
from the rifle bullets and arrows of his enemies. Dodging the
lethal projectiles he ran back to his fallen pony. He dropped
behind the back of the stricken horse and pushed his shoulder up to
the saddle. Bullets ripped up the ground and showered sand all over
him as he continued to fire his matched .36s.