The Spirit of Iron Eyes

The ruthless bounty hunter, Iron Eyes, is hot
on the trail of the outlaw Diamond Back Jones. After running into
the blazing guns of Jones’ cohorts, Iron Eyes sees the deadly
outlaw slip through his fingers and ride off into the arid Indian
Territory.

Wounded, Iron Eyes gives chase yet again but
has no idea that he is being lured into a trap. The Apache are
waiting to ambush the man they call ‘the evil one’. Soon the bounty
hunter finds himself facing a hundred painted warriors. More dead
than alive, Iron Eyes has to fight with every ounce of his honed
cunning.

But has he enough strength left to
survive?

THE SPIRIT OF
IRON EYES

IRON EYES
7:

By Rory
Black

First published
by Robert Hale Limited in 2004

Copyright
©
2004, 2014 by Rory Black

Published by
Piccadilly Publishing at Smashwords: November 2014

Names,
characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons
living or dead is purely coincidental.

This ebook is
licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be
re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share
this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy
for each reader.

Cover image ©
2014 by Carl Yonder

This is a
Piccadilly Publishing Book

Series Editor:
Ben Bridges

Text © Piccadilly Publishing

Published by
Arrangement with the Author.

Dedicated to my oldest pals, Tony, Phil and
Pete Wall

Dry Gulch was a town that existed against
all the odds. Hovering on the very edge of the vast untamed prairie
which few white men had yet to venture into, it was the last place
on earth that any sane man would visit. But outlaws shielded their
sanity behind a multitude of vices and weaponry.

Dry Gulch provided a safe haven for hundreds
of men and women who were not welcome anywhere else. It had long
been said that even the Apache feared the vermin that filled its
buildings and streets.

The blistering heat and
blinding light from a sun which refused to yield to any season
except high summer had shaped the land for hundreds of square miles
above and below
the Mexico border.

Those who rode into the remote Dry Gulch
were most probably loco or lost. Or both.

It had nothing for the faint of heart or
honest souls. This was a town where gun law ruled supreme.

Yet it served its purpose.

It was
one of the few settlements to have
managed to take root in an otherwise arid landscape. It survived
because it had to survive. There was no alternative. The buildings
were mostly adobe and whitewashed like so many south of the border.
A few wooden structures had been built by newer residents even
though the imported wood was already being destroyed by a
never-ceasing heat. At least half the inhabitants were of Mexican
origin, but even they seemed to feel the unbelievable temperature
hard to cope with as they took refuge within the boundaries of the
town.

Only rattlers could ever be comfortable
here.

Dry Gulch was indeed unlike any
other place that Iron Eyes had ridden into, but he was here for a
reason. He was hunting the bounty on an outlaw
’s head and nothing could stop
him from the chase. His cold calculating eyes studied everything
around him as he steered the Indian pony through the wide dusty
streets and aimed for the large adobe building with the most horses
tied up outside.

He knew that only places that sold either
hard liquor or female company attracted that many horses in any
town. He guided the pony with the thin bony fingers of his left
hand whilst resting his right wrist on top of one of the Navy Colts
tucked into his belt.

The saloon had its name marked
on the side wall in paint that had long since lost its battle with
the hot sun. What was left of the flaking red
color was illegible.

A few curious people had ventured out into
the bright sunlight to watch the strange-looking rider pass them.
None posed any threat to the lethal bounty hunter.

Iron Eyes shook the long limp hair off his
face to reveal the scars of many previous battles. His skin was
tight to the skull, which looked as if it belonged to a dead man
and not a still-living person.

He reined in and glanced along the line of
mounts who had been left in the blazing sun. His eyes darted at the
ground and studied the hoof tracks behind the hind legs of the
abandoned mounts. Instinctively he recognized the tracks that he
had trailed for days. The dried lather on the buckskin mount also
told him that he had found his prey at last.

Iron Eyes looped his right leg
over his pony
’s neck and slid to the ground. He dropped his reins and
allowed the tired mount to walk to the closest trough in search of
water. He pushed his way between the horses and stepped up on to
the raised boardwalk outside the adobe saloon.

He lowered his head until his chin touched
the sweat-soaked shirt-collar, then stared at the dark interior of
the saloon before him.

A hundred smells filled his flared nostrils.
He ignored them all except the one he recognized as belonging to
the man he had chased for so long.

Iron Eyes strode confidently
into the saloon. It was slightly cooler in the large interior but
he did
not
notice. All he could think about was finding the man whose image
was on the wanted poster inside his deep coat pocket.

More than fifty people were crammed into the
building. He could not even see the bar, but knew that it had to be
directly ahead of him because that was where the most men were
gathered as they fought for whiskey. The floor was covered in straw
and a multitude of other less pleasant things.

Only those closest to the tall fearsome
figure noticed the presence of the stranger in the noisy saloon.
Iron Eyes opened the front of his long coat to reveal the jutting
grips of his Navy .36s.

Slowly the crowd began to move
away from him as it dawned on them that this stranger was here not
to drink, but to kill. It was etched in every scar that covered
Iron Eyes
’
face.

The bounty hunter began to walk forward with
deliberate steps. He was silent and yet totally aware of all those
who surrounded him within the crowded building. His fingers flexed
as his arms hung at his sides. Only his spurs made any sound as he
crossed the filthy floor.

His bullet-
colored eyes darted from one
face to another, with a speed that only those who lived by their
instincts could ever match. Iron Eyes inhaled deeply and followed
the acrid scent of the man he had been chasing for long. He turned
his head and looked over the dozens of hats towards a far
corner.

It was dark there but he could smell the
outlaw drifting on the cigar and pipe-smoke-filled air.

Fear stank and Iron Eyes knew the aroma
well.

Iron Eyes raised his left hand and brushed
men aside as he moved closer to the darkest part of the large room.
He was being drawn like a moth to a flame towards the outlaw he had
yet to see.

Then he saw a brief glimpse of
daylight as the saloon
’s rear door was hastily opened and closed.
Diamond Back Jones had fled.

The sound of the door bouncing against its
frame echoed above the drunken voices which filled the large
room.

Iron Eyes increased his pace. He flung every
one of the men between the corner of the saloon and himself out of
the way as he closed in on the still moving door.

‘
Who
you pushin’?’ one man snarled as he grabbed at the sleeve of the
bounty hunter.

Iron Eyes turned his neck and then brutally
head-butted the far shorter man on the bridge of his nose. Blood
splattered from the deep gash as the man fell to the ground.

Without pausing for a single second, Iron
Eyes raised his right leg and kicked at the frail wooden door. It
flew off its hinges and landed out in the sun-drenched alley.

Sunlight swept into the saloon but Iron Eyes
did not seem to notice as he walked out into the alley. His nose
was still guiding him after the man whose stench had drifted on the
air between them for days.

The sound of Jones running filled his
ears.

The thoughtful bounty hunter pulled a long
thin cigar from his deep pocket, bit off its tip, then spat it out.
He placed the cigar between his small teeth and then found a match.
He ignited it with his thumbnail, cupped the flame and puffed until
smoke billowed from his mouth.

Iron Eyes looked down at the ground and saw
the bootmarks in the sand. They led along the narrow alley towards
the backs of more adobe buildings.

‘
Keep
running, Diamond Back,’ Iron Eyes muttered through the smoke. ‘I’m
comin’ and there ain’t no hole deep enough for you to hide
in.’

The bounty hunter walked between the high
walls along the alley. He knew that he now had his prey running
scared and that suited him. Above all other things, he was a
hunter. It had once been animals, now it was men with prices on
their heads whom he tracked down and killed.

There was a fork in the alley
about a hundred feet from the rear of the saloon. The ground was
baked hard by the merciless sun and there were no boot tracks to be
seen by normal eyes, but there was no hiding-place from Iron
Eyes
’ expert
vision. He went to the right and continued his search.

Suddenly he heard a noise ahead of him.

Iron Eyes dragged one of his
guns from his belt and cocked its hammer. He moved silently along
the alley and stopped when he saw Diamond Back
Jones’s boots disappearing over
a wall. He went to aim, but his target had vanished.

The bounty hunter headed quickly towards the
wall, then heard the outlaw running away from it across the hard
ground. He stretched up to his full height and stared over the top
of the whitewashed wall. He saw Jones race between two buildings
and into a street.

The outlaw was heading back to his
horse.

Iron Eyes gritted his teeth and ran along
the alley in the direction of the street. A trail of blue smoke
drifted over his broad shoulders as his long legs ate up the ground
beneath him.

Before the tall man reached the street, he
saw Diamond Back Jones dash across the mouth of the alley ahead of
him.

Iron Eyes dragged his other pistol from his
belt and readied it for action. As he reached the corner, the
deafening sound of a shot bounced off the solid walls. When Iron
Eyes stepped out into the street the wall exploded next to his face
when a score of bullets hit it.