Iron Eyes Must Die (8 page)

‘
Just
’cause we can’t see it, that don’t mean there ain’t nothing out
there, Tray.’ Casey Layne toyed with his reins. ‘Snake ain’t never
bin the sort to commit suicide. If he headed that way, there has to
a reason. There just has to be.’

‘
If we
head back to Waco without his carcass in tow, there’ll be a lot of
folks asking for their money back, Marshal.’ Donner rubbed more of
the grime off his face.

‘
I
know!’ Layne agreed. ‘I hate being outwitted by a back-shooter like
him.’

Suddenly something caught the attention of
the experienced marshal. Layne turned his horse and pulled the brim
of his hat down to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun. He
screwed up his eyes and focused on the distant hills. A smile crept
over his weathered features.

‘
Lookee yonder, boys!’ Layne pointed a gloved finger. ‘Do
you see that smoke?’

The deputies eased their lathered-up mounts
around and squinted hard.

‘
Yep.
I see it. Must be a house over near them hills, Marshal!’ Donner
said.

Walker shook his head.

‘
That
ain’t no darn chimney on no darn house, Tray. That smoke’s movin’.
Movin’ fast.’

Donner stood in his stirrups.

‘
Ya
right. It is movin’, Josh!’

‘
That’s a train, boys!’ Layne said. He sat back down on his
hot saddle. ‘An honest to goodness train out here in the middle of
nowhere!’

Donner cupped his hand above his dust-covered
eyebrows.

‘
Damn!
Ya right, Marshal. That is a train. What in tarnation is it doin’
here?’

‘
Who
gives a darn what it’s doin’ here? The fact is that it
is
here,’ the marshal
said.

‘
And
it’s headed toward them big red mesas!’Walker added with a nod of
his head.

All three lawmen looked to
where the locomotive appeared to be headed. The
high mesas seemed to be almost
the color of blood as the afternoon sun bathed the ancient rocks.
Even though they could not see any sign of tracks, they knew that
the only route possible would be between the high rocks.

Like a man with a mission, Marshal Layne
gathered up his loose reins and steadied his tired mount.

‘
C’mon, boys! I figure we can head it off before it reaches
them mesas!’

‘
Why’d
we wanna do that, Marshal?’ Walker asked. ‘It’s headed in the
opposite direction to where we wanna go.’

‘
Trains got water on ’em, Josh! We need us a lot of water if
n we’re gonna keep trailing Snake and his boys!’ Layne answered.
His horse reared up eagerly. ‘Once we’ve commandeered us a whole
load of water off that train, we’ll head on after Snake
again!’

‘
We’d
better ride fast!’ Donner said.

‘
Darn
fast!’Walker nodded.

‘
Faster than we’ve ever ridden before!’ Layne snapped. He
used the long ends of his reins to whip the tail of his eager
horse.

The three riders spurred hard and drove their
horses on towards the high majestic mesas. Dust hung in the still
air long after they had left the edge of the deadly plain.

Layne and his two deputies now had a race to
win. They had to reach the train and somehow stop it before it
disappeared for ever into the twisting canyons and gulches which
carved their way between the towering rocks.

Iron Eyes awoke suddenly. Even seriously
wounded, his instincts were razor sharp. His head turned and vainly
he attempted to see through the hay which was piled over him. There
was someone climbing up the wooden ladder from the floor of the
livery stable to the loft. The bounty hunter remained motionless
under the hay and listened to the heavy footsteps as they drew
closer and closer to his hiding-place. The boards creaked under the
weight of the unseen visitor.

His backbone could feel every step.

Whoever it was, Iron Eyes told himself, he
was getting closer with every beat of his pounding heart. A hundred
thoughts raced through the mind of the wounded man.

How long had he been asleep up
here? The sun still filtered through the
cracks in the wooden loft door, but
was this the same day?

The boards groaned beneath him.

Who was it?

Who had climbed up here?

Had someone eventually found the trail of
blood he had left in his wake?

Maybe it was the deputy he had seen crawl
into the shadows below him before he had fallen asleep. Perhaps the
man with the star pinned to his shirt had become curious to know
what was up in the stable loft.

So many questions. So few answers.

Iron Eyes went to turn over, and failed. He
was starved of strength. He had never felt so weakened in all his
days. It made no sense to him. He had been hurt far worse than this
in the past and still managed to summon the dregs of his spirit to
help him fight.

Where had it gone?

His head fell back on to the
boards. Sweat poured from his skin like raindrops. He tried to
fight the clouds which
fogged his mind. Then he recalled the bullet in
his shoulder. His eyes glanced to the wound. It had stopped
bleeding but was hot. A thousand branding-irons could not have
created such heat.

His mind drifted back to the man who was
still approaching.

Was it the deputy?

Maybe it was someone whom he had not even
thought of yet.

If it were one of the deputies
or the town
’s menfolk whom they had enlisted to help them in their
search for the bounty hunter, could he risk shooting
him?

To fire his gun inside the livery would be
fatal! A shot would alert every man in Rio Concho where he was
hiding, Iron Eyes thought.

The fever filled his mind once
again. The Bowie knife! That was the answer. He had to use the
lethal Bowie knife! That was the silent way to kill
one
’s prey!
Iron Eyes tried to reach down to his boot, but it was impossible.
His fingers clawed at his pants’ leg but there was no way he could
find the handle of his deadly Bowie knife.

Then he felt the boards under
his spine bend. The unknown man
’s legs came into sight beside the head of
the prostrate figure.

He stopped walking.

Twenty inches separated them.

Iron Eyes stared at the footwear of the man.
The boots were well worn. The heel was off the left boot and had
not been repaired. These were not the polished boots of the
deputies who had thrown him into jail, he thought. Iron Eyes
remained perfectly still. Only his eyes moved.

He strained to see more, but could not.

Whoever this man was, he was standing
directly above the pile of hay that Iron Eyes was beneath.

Iron Eyes moved his right hand slowly. His
bony fingers searched for one of his lethal guns. Inch by inch he
dared to lower his hand towards one of his deep trail-coat
pockets.

It seemed as if he would never locate the
gun. Then, as he felt the cold handle of one of his Navy Colts in
the palm of his hand, the right leg of the mysterious man was
raised.

Before Iron Eyes could do anything, the boot
was pressed down hard on to his throat. Then suddenly the sharp
twin prongs of a pitchfork pushed the hay aside and were pressed
into his chest.

‘
Just
stay nice and quiet, boy!’ a voice whispered over him. ‘Don’t make
a sound! We don’t want to let them varmints know where you’re
hiding, do we?’

The eyes of the bounty hunter flashed up at
the face of the man who had him pinned down. He was old-looking by
usual standards, but well built. He was bearded and strong enough
to make Iron Eyes helpless.

‘
Who
are ya?’ the bounty hunter managed to say.

‘
The
name’s Hanney. Duke Hanney.’

‘
Who
are you, Hanney?’

‘
I’m
the stableman.’ Hanney continued to whisper. ‘This is my
livery.’

‘
What
ya want of me? Rent?’ Iron Eyes croaked.

‘
You
got a smart mouth for someone hurt as bad as you are. We got us
some talking to do, boy!’ Hanney said in a hushed tone. ‘There’s a
few things that you ought to know. Things that might put the fire
back in ya belly.’

Hanney eased his boot off his
victim
’s
windpipe. It was just enough to allow Iron Eyes to speak more
clearly.

‘
What
kinda things do I need to know, old-timer? I already know that I
killed the sheriff of this damn town. What else have I gotta
learn?’

‘
Them
men running around with stars pinned to their vests ain’t really
the law!’ the old man said. ‘You ain’t killed the
sheriff!’

‘
What?’ Iron Eyes blinked hard.

‘
They
ain’t lawmen!’ the man repeated slowly. ‘They’re trail
trash!’

‘
Are
you sure?’

‘
They
killed the real law!’ Hanney sighed. ‘Then they took their place.
The critter who called himself the sheriff was just the leader of
these outlaws!’

‘
Can
you prove that?’

The man nodded.

‘
I
could show you the graves, boy!’

Iron Eyes stared at Hanney. The old-timer
leaned over him with the sharp pitchfork in his weathered hands.
The bounty hunter did not know whether he could or should believe
him. Was this a trap thought up by the deputies to get him down
from the hay loft and into the sights of their guns?

‘
Are
you tellin’ me the truth,
amigo?’
the bounty hunter asked in a low drawl. ‘I’m too
darn sick to be lied to.’

The man leaned closer to his helpless
victim.

‘
I
ain’t lying to ya, Iron Eyes! There ain’t no call for me to lie.
You gotta understand one thing, I’m probably the only friend you
got in this here town!’

The bounty hunter felt as if a
weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If these
men were outlaws,
as Hanney said, then they were fair game for his lethal
talents.

‘
Is
that deputy still down there hiding in the horse-stall,
Hanney?’

‘
Yep.
That’s why I’m whisperin’!’

‘
Why
would you go against these
hombres
and help me?’ Iron Eyes studied the face as the
older man absorbed his question. ‘Why?’

‘
My
brother Tom was the real sheriff in this town!’ the man replied.
‘Until Payne and his cronies rode into Rio Concho, that
is!’

Iron Eyes knew pain when he saw it. Pain had
been with him for most of his life. He recognized it in the
wrinkled face above him.

‘
I
believe ya!’ he said.

The pitchfork was pulled away
from his flesh. Iron Eyes struggled into a seated position and
rested his back against the wooden wall. The man knelt down beside
him and moved his lips close to Iron Eyes
’ left ear.

‘
I can
help ya, Iron Eyes,’ Hanney said. ‘I can help ya get the better of
these back-shooting varmints.’

‘
I’m
grateful, Hanney. Right now I need all the help I can get. I’m hurt
bad.’

Hanney pulled the torn
bloodstained coat and shirt away from the bullet hole in the bounty
hunter
’s
shoulder. He gritted what was left of his teeth.

‘
That
bullet has gotta be cut out, boy! The wound’s infected.’

Iron Eyes raised his leg and pulled the Bowie
knife from the neck of his boot. He smiled when he saw the
expression of the man seated next to him alter.

‘
Don’t
fret none, Hanney!’ Iron Eyes said. He handed the weapon to the
livery man.

‘
What
ya giving me ya knife for?’

‘
Dig
that bullet out!’ Iron Eyes muttered under his breath.

‘
You
serious?’

Iron Eyes nodded.

‘
Dead
serious! Cut that lead out of me!’

‘
B . .
. but.’

‘
Now!’

Duke Hanney held the knife in his shaking
hands and tried to change the subject.

‘
You
reckon you could get the better of them bastards?’

Iron Eyes sighed.

‘
On a
good day, Hanney! Is this a good day?’

‘
With
me helpin’ ya, it could be.’

‘
You
say that they’re all outlaws?’

‘
Not
the townsfolk. Just the sheriff and the deputies,’ the livery
stable man corrected. ‘They come in here about two months back and
killed the real law. Buried them out on the prairie.’

‘
Why?’