The Spurs of Iron Eyes (Iron Eyes Western #3) (7 page)

Bass was about to speak
when he saw his breakfast being carried towards him by the
frightened girl. He thanked her and watched as she scurried away
before looking directly at the younger man.

‘
I’m
surprised by your attitude but grateful.’

Iron Eyes leaned forward
watching the attractive woman dabbing her lips on a napkin before
rising from her table and walking out of the dining-room. At no
time did she cast a look in his direction. It was as if he did not
exist in her world where only creatures of beauty and perfection
lived. It was a world where there was no place for Iron Eyes,
however much money he had.

‘
You
okay, Iron Eyes?’ Bass asked, slicing off his ham and dipping it
into his fried eggs.

There was a long silence
before the thin pitifully scarred man sighed.

‘
Yep.
I was just thinking.’ His long, thin fingers produced a cigar and a
match from one of his pockets.

‘
About
her?’ Bass said pointing over his shoulder with his
fork.

‘
Not
just her. I was thinking about all the folks I’ve met like her,
Bass. Folks who just seem to be different to the likes of us.’ Iron
Eyes struck his match and put its flame to the end of his cigar and
puffed angrily.

Bass took a mouthful of his
sweet coffee.

‘
You
got a lot of money, son. You can go East, or maybe even West to San
Francisco and set yourself up. Money can open a lot o’ doors for
folks like us.’

Iron Eyes stared hard into
the face of the sheriff and smiled the smile of a man who knew his
sort would never have enough money to fit into such places. No
amount of fancy clothes, or any number of large mansions would
change what he was in the eyes of people like that woman. People of
a certain kind can never change what they truly are.

‘
Keep
chewing, Bass. You’re damn good at chewing.’

The wily old sheriff did as he
was told and ate his breakfast silently. Bass chewed and
watched
as
Iron Eyes inhaled the acrid smoke and pondered the empty room.
There was a look on the face of the famed bounty hunter he had
never seen before. It was the look of a man trying desperately to
conceal something, not from onlookers but from himself. It was as
if he had just caught sight of his own reflection for the very
first time and been numbed by the awful truth.

Neither Bass nor Iron Eyes had
spoken since entering the now quiet saloon opposite the Rio Vista
Hotel. The wooden toothpick had found every cavity within the older
man
’s mouth
as he wondered exactly how long the brooding bounty hunter would
remain trapped within his own dark thoughts.

They had been sitting at a
table with a bottle of good whiskey between them for over thirty
minutes and neither had poured a single measure into their glass.
The smoke still drifted from Iron Eyes
’ mouth as he stared out of the open
doorway, past the swing doors.

Finally, Bass lifted the
bottle off the table and pulled out its cork and poured two
drinks.

‘
Drink
this.’

Iron Eyes glanced at him
and lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed the whiskey in one
go.

‘
Happy?’

‘
Not
really.’ Bass shook his head as he washed the dryness from his
mouth.

‘
I
figure I’ve got enough money in my bags to last until I’m about two
hundred and fifty years of age,’ Iron Eyes said, placing his cigar
back between his lips and looking hard out into the bright street
with a renewed interest.

‘
What’s caught your eye, son?’ Bass asked as he refilled
their glasses.

‘
Reflections in store fronts can be mighty useful, Bass,’
Iron Eyes said bluntly, pointing across the wide dry street. ‘I can
usually spot trouble coming a good minute before it
arrives.’

‘
What
are you talking about?’ Bass asked, as he stood and leaned over to
where the bounty hunter was seated in a vain attempt at seeing what
had caught his attention.

‘
Father Jose is heading here.’ Iron Eyes exhaled a long line
of smoke at the floor.

‘
Don’t
be stupid....’ Bass found his words echoing around the room as the
robed priest stopped at the swing doors of the saloon and peered
directly at them, entered, and walked towards them
hurriedly.

‘
I
have found you,’ Father Jose sighed thankfully, as he took a seat
next to the narrow-eyed man who chewed on the butt of his
cigar.

‘
Anything wrong, Father?’ Bass asked, seating himself back
down between the two very different men.

‘
I was
afraid you might have left town already, Mr. Iron Eyes.’ Father
Jose rubbed the sweat from his face.

Iron Eyes looked into the
face of the man he had met the previous evening and could see
something had changed. Now the inner peace had been disrupted by
something serious and it showed to one capable of recognizing such
things.

‘You
look a tad troubled, Father
Jose.’

‘
I am
troubled, Iron Eyes.’

‘
Spit
it out.’

Father Jose glanced at Bass
and then back at the cold-featured bounty hunter who sat motionless
as he chewed on the remnants of his cigar.

‘
I
have come to ask you to return with me back to the chapel where a
dear friend of mine has something to tell you.’

Iron Eyes rose to his full
height and spat out the cigar into a spittoon.

‘
I’ll
come with you.’

Bass rose to his
feet.

‘
Do
you wish for me to tag along, Father?’

The priest rested a hand
upon the shoulder of the lawman and shook his head.

‘
No,
Sheriff. You must understand, this is merely for Iron Eyes’ ears
only.’ Father Jose followed the tall ghost-like figure out onto the
boardwalk

Iron Eyes looked back at
the open-mouthed Bass in the saloon as he headed towards the
whitewashed chapel with the priest at his side.

‘
You
sure you want me, Jose? Sheriff Bass is the law’

‘
You
said you thought you had been brought here to Rio Vista for a
purpose, my son. I think I now know what that purpose
is.’

Iron Eyes gritted his teeth as
he strolled beside the robed man along the shaded boardwalks
towards the imposing chapel. As they walked, only the sound of the
bounty hunter
’s vicious spurs made any noise in the otherwise silent
street.

A solitary oil lantern
illuminated Father Jose
’s Spartan living-quarters. Although still early,
no daylight reached this cell of a room buried within the heart of
the chapel. As the priest closed the door behind him he watched as
Iron Eyes paced towards the old man who lay upon the crude cot. He
said nothing as he pulled a chair away from a table and sat down
beside the fatigued man.

Father Jose moved to the
cot and ran his hand over the fevered brow of the old
man.

‘
I
have brought a friend, Pablo.’

The man raised himself up
onto an elbow and nodded at the thin-faced Iron Eyes.

This man is known to me and my
people, Father
,’ Pablo said weakly. This is Iron Eyes.’

‘
You
know of me?’ Iron Eyes raised an eyebrow as if unable to believe an
honest man of the soil could have heard of anyone as infamous as
himself.

‘
Si,
you are Iron Eyes, the hunter of evil men,’ Pablo sighed
smiling.

Iron Eyes looked at Father
Jose, who was taking a seat next to the cot, with a confused
expression carved across his sharp features.

‘
What’s going on here, Jose?’

The question was blunt but
well placed and made both his companions look hard in his
direction.

‘
You
could be the miracle my friend Pablo came here to find, my son,’
the priest replied.

Iron Eyes felt uneasy.
‘Get to the point,
boys. I’m starting to feel a mite edgy.’

Father Jose placed a hand
upon the shoulder of the dog-tired man beside him and began to
explain.

‘
Pablo
is the elder of his little village over the border. They chose him
to come here to try and find someone who would assist
them.’

Iron Eyes searched his
pockets to find the last of his cigars.

‘
Keep
talking. I’m listening.’

‘
These
are a poor people who have little money. They are farmers and
usually the soil gives their little community everything they
require. For the past few weeks a gang of bandits has been visiting
their village and doing bad things.’

‘
What
kinda bad things?’ said Iron Eyes, chewing on the cigar.

For a few seconds the two
men opposite the bounty hunter spoke in Mexican to each other
before the priest returned his attention to Iron Eyes and
translated their brief conversation.

‘
At
first they came to Pablo’s village just for food. It did not take
these evil men long to discover how defenseless these poor souls
were. There is not a single firearm within the small village. Then
the bandits returned once again, demanding money which his people
did not have. They are an honest people who barely have enough food
to feed themselves. What little money they can earn is by coming
over the border and picking crops for their Texan neighbors. When
the bandits could find no money they became angry and did many evil
things. At first they destroyed their precious beasts of burden,
then they turned their attention to the females of the village. Do
I have to go into detail,
senor?'

Iron Eyes said nothing for a
few seconds as he digested the priest
’s words. Then he struck a match and lit
his cigar and spoke through the haze of smoke.

‘
What
did they do to the womenfolk?’

Father Jose lowered his
head as he answered the question.

‘
There
are but ten adult women in Pablo’s village. Each one has been raped
and brutalized beyond my ability to explain. The worst thing of all
though is the children’s fate....’

Iron Eyes drew himself
forward and stared hard into the face of the elderly
man.

‘
They
hurt the children too, Pablo?’

‘Far
worse than just hurting them, Iron
Eyes.’ Pablo began to sob as his mind painted pictures he was
unable to cope with.

The bounty hunter rose to
his feet and paced into a dark corner where he brooded
silently.

‘
Will
you help these people, my son?’ Father Jose moved from his chair to
the side of the taller man.

Iron Eyes sucked on the
choking smoke and looked down at the holy man.

‘
What
were the men folk of Pablo’s village doing when these bandits were
satisfying themselves, Jose?’

‘
They
tried to stop the bandits, Iron Eyes,’ Father Jose began again. ‘I
fear these farmers were no match for heavily armed desperadoes. Two
of the men were killed in the most ugly of fashions whilst the rest
have had their bodies and their spirits broken.’

Iron Eyes paced back to the cot
and glared
down at Pablo whose eyes were still red and
sore.

‘Y
ou being old got you the job of
coming to look for someone like me, huh?’

‘
Si,
senor’
Pablo
nodded sorrowfully. ‘My people have been praying for a
miracle.’

There was a long silence as
the thin figure dwelt upon the story, puffing thoughtfully upon the
scented cigar gripped firmly in his teeth. Both men watched Iron
Eyes moving around the room like a caged puma with only the ringing
of his spurs marking time.

Finally the priest stepped
forward in the path of the cold-eyed man who stopped
abruptly.

‘
Will
you help Pablo’s people, Iron Eyes?’

Iron Eyes
’ chest heaved.

‘
I’m
just a bounty hunter, or at least I was until I made me a heap of
money, Father Jose. Now I’m a rich man who don’t have to do nothing
except spend his money. It ain’t me Pablo needs. He needs a
gunfighter or the like.’

‘
You
have helped people before,
senor.
I have heard stories of you helping people.’
Pablo’s voice was shaking as he spoke.