The Spurs of Iron Eyes (Iron Eyes Western #3) (8 page)

‘
Always for money, old man,’ Iron Eyes corrected. ‘I’ve
always worked for money.’

‘
Pablo
can pay you,’ the priest said quietly. ‘He has been entrusted with
the entire fortune of his people.’

Iron Eyes stared down at the
old man.

‘
How
much money, Pablo?’

The old man pulled a small
leather pouch from inside his shirt and handed it to the bounty
hunter.

Iron Eyes pulled at the
draw string and stared within the small bag for a few seconds
before handing the pouch back to the weak old man.

‘
Like
I said, I’ve got me enough money never to have to hunt bounty ever
again, boys.’

The priest watched him open
the door and walk into the chapel where the hundreds of candles
drew him to a halt. He stared up at the golden crucifix.

‘
So
you will not help them, my son?’

‘
Only
when my saddlebags are empty once more, Jose,’ Iron Eyes responded
as he looked up at the glistening image. ‘I ain’t risking my bacon
until I need the money. Like I told you, I only ever work for
money’

‘
I
understand,’ Father Jose said, shaking his head sadly as he stood
before the altar crossing himself.

‘
What
did you say his name was again?’ Iron Eyes pushed the hair off his
face and stared up at the holy image.

‘
Jesus
Christ, our savior. He gave His life so we might live, my son.’
Jose watched the expression on the tall man’s face change as he
absorbed the sentence.

Iron Eyes looked down into
the face beside him.

‘
He
don’t look the foolish type.’

‘
He
was anything but foolish, Iron Eyes.’ Father Jose cast his eyes
upward and looked at the beautiful figure which seemed almost
animated in the flickering of the candles.

Iron Eyes suddenly found
himself staring at the tears rolling down the
priest
’s
face and felt uneasy.

Shrugging, the bounty
hunter walked down the centre aisle until he was at the large
wooden doors, then paused to look back at the priest. For a brief
moment, Iron Eyes was going to speak, then he felt his throat
muscles tighten. Turning faster than he had ever done before, the
gaunt bounty hunter left the chapel and marched out into the
morning sunshine.

Even within the sanctuary of
this holy building the sound of the spurs echoed around its white
walls.

It was roughly noon when Father
Jose stepped out of the general store and saw Iron Eyes entering
the chapel carrying his
saddlebags over his left shoulder. For a brief
moment the priest could not believe his eyes. Then he ran along the
boardwalk and jumped down onto the dry dusty street. Hurrying back
toward the chapel, Father Jose had only managed to place his
sandals on the first of the tiled steps when the bounty hunter
walked back out into the blazing sunshine and stared down at
him.

‘
Why
have you returned, my son?’

‘
It
must be your lucky day, Father Jose,’ Iron Eyes said, as he waited
for the man to ascend the steps.

‘
What
do you mean?’

‘
Like
I said, it’s your lucky day.’ Iron Eyes pulled the limp bags from
his shoulder and handed them to the priest to inspect.

These bags are empty, Iron
Eyes,
’
Father Jose said in disbelief.

‘
Yep,’
Iron Eyes nodded, with a blank emotionless expression.

‘
I do
not understand.’ The priest gazed hard into the stone-featured face
of his companion, unable to see beyond the mask behind which Iron
Eyes hid.

‘
Remember I told you I would only help Pablo when my
saddlebags were empty?’ the bounty hunter asked.

‘
I
remember, my son.’ Father Jose handed the bags back to the tall man
who tossed them over his shoulder. ‘Does this mean you will now
help Pablo and his people?’

‘
Yep.
Now I’ve gotta help him; I need the money.’ Iron Eyes gave a long
hard look at the sun-baked town below their elevated
position.

‘
I
think I am beginning to understand, my son.’ Father Jose moved
around the man who seemed to be looking to a far off place which no
other creature could envision.

‘
Like
I told you, I only work for money,’ Iron Eyes grunted.

‘
What
happened to the fortune you told me was within your saddlebags, my
son?’ The priest stared up at the man who seemed to be thinking of
something far more interesting than mere wealth.

‘
Let’s
just say I ain’t got it any more, Jose.’ The reply hung on the hot
air which swept over the buildings of Rio Vista as the sun reached
its highest point of the day.

‘
But
where is it? Were you robbed?’

Iron Eyes found a smile
tracing across his face as the suggestion of anyone being stupid or
foolhardy enough to even attempt robbing him, filled his
thoughts.

‘
Nope.
I wasn’t robbed, Father Jose.’

‘You
are a good man, my son.’

‘
Nope.
I’m only doing it for the money.’ Iron Eyes pulled the small pouch
from inside his red shirt and showed it to the priest. ‘See? I only
work for money. Pablo hired me fair and square.’

Once again, a tear ran down
the cheek of the holy man as he followed the gaunt bounty hunter
back within the chapel.

‘
Indeed you did tell me you would only ever work for money,
my son. I understand you would never do anything for anyone for
mere compassion.’

‘
I
ain’t ever heard that word before. What exactly does it mean?’ Iron
Eyes pushed the small pouch into his deep pocket where it would
rest amongst the bullets and newly purchased supply of
cigars.

‘
It
means you feel sorry for someone.’

Iron Eyes raised an
eyebrow.

‘I
still don’t understand.’

The priest pointed at the
deep coat pocket.

‘
How
much money is in that pouch, Iron Eyes?’

‘
Enough, Jose. Just enough.’

The priest could not believe
the sight before him as he walked out into the blazing afternoon
sunshine, with his arm around the frail old figure of Pablo. Below
the tiled steps of the chapel, two fresh saddled horses waited with
four heavily-laden pack mules. Sheriff Bass held the reins of the
lead horse as Iron Eyes descended the steps toward the
lawman.

‘
You
sure about this, Iron Eyes?’ Bass asked, as the thin hands accepted
the leather reins and began gathering them up. ‘This ain’t your
fight.’

‘
Maybe
it is.’

‘
How
come?’

‘
Maybe
them bandits have a price on their heads. If they have, it’s mine,
Bass.’ Iron Eyes began to grin as the thought of hunting vermin
filled his mind.

Bass shook his head and
pulled the brim of his hat down to shield his eyes from the
merciless sun.

‘
It
still don’t figure.’

‘
You
get everything I told you to get, Bass?’ Iron Eyes asked as he
studied the pack mules carefully.

‘
I got
the whole darn caboodle,’ Bass answered.

Iron Eyes slapped the
man
’s
shoulder, stepped into his stirrup and mounted the
horse.

‘
Is
this horse fast?’

‘Faster
than the wretched critter you
rode in on, boy,’ Bass said, as the priest and Pablo reached them.
Try not to use them spurs too much and it might just get you there
and back.’

‘
Get
mounted, Pablo,’ Iron Eyes ordered.

The old Mexican did as he
was instructed, although it felt strange to be atop a fine horse
instead of a stubborn mule.

‘
What
is all this, my son?’ Father Jose asked waving his arms at the
heavily-laden pack animals.

‘
Supplies,’ came the brisk response from the bounty hunter
as he checked his matched Navy Colts. ‘I thought the folks in old
Pablo’s village might need a few supplies.’

The priest stepped close to
the sheriff.

‘
Who
paid for these things, Sheriff Bass?’

Bass glanced up at Iron Eyes
before looking back at the holy man.

‘
Iron
Eyes paid for it, Father Jose.’

‘
I
thought you had no money?’ The priest rested his hands upon his
hips and looked hard at the man who sat in his saddle
silently.

‘
I
bought this stuff before I mislaid my money, Father,’ he responded,
placing a cigar between his lips and striking a match on his saddle
horn.

‘
I
must tell you, it is a sin to lie to a man of the cloth, Iron
Eyes.’ However the priest found himself admiring the strange man
who seemed to resemble evil personified as he sat in his saddle
looking around the quiet town defiantly.

‘
The
Devil protects his own, Jose,’ Iron Eyes grunted.

‘
You
look all fired up, boy,’ Bass said coldly, as he witnessed the
hunter suddenly coming to life as he sensed there was a bloody job
ahead of him.

‘I
figure we ought to reach the village
shortly after sunset, Pablo. Is that right?’ Iron Eyes turned his
horse and moved along the pack animals studying the large bundles
strapped across their spines.

‘
Si,
Iron Eyes. It will be dark when we reach the valley of my
village,’ the old man replied.

‘
Good.
I don’t cotton to riding across that damn valley in daylight.’ Iron
Eyes spat at the ground as he leaned from his saddle and checked
the last mule.

‘
What
are you looking for, my son?’ Father Jose asked
innocently.

The bounty hunter
straightened up and looked directly at the sheriff.

‘
Which
one of these damn mules is carrying the explosives,
Bass?’

‘
The
one with the white star on his nose.’ Bass pointed at the largest
of the mules.

‘
That’s fine. He looked a peaceable sort.’

The priest moved to the
sheriff.

‘
Explosives?’

Bass shrugged.
‘Yep. There’s gonna
be one mighty big fireworks display, Father.’

‘
Reckon sometimes you have to make a real loud noise if’n
you want folks to take you seriously, Jose,’ Iron Eyes smiled as
smoke drifted from his mouth.

‘
You’ve got enough dynamite and black powder there to wake
the Devil himself, Iron Eyes,’ Sheriff Bass sighed nervously, as he
studied the emotionless figure riding his horse back to the small
group of animals.

‘
As
long as I send him a few new guests to stoke up them eternal fires,
old man.’ The smile was as hollow as the cold steel-colored
eyes.

There
was a ringing sound as the bounty
hunter jabbed his spurs into his horse’s flesh and steered it
forward, holding onto the long running ropes leading the
mules.

‘
Come
on, Pablo. I ain’t gonna find your damn village unless you show me
where it is,’ Iron Eyes called over his shoulder to the old man who
drew his mount level and they headed towards the wide river below
Rio Vista.

The priest watched the two
men leading the four pack animals down the dusty trail until they
reached the glistening, flowing waters before turning to the
sheriff.

Iron Eyes is a good man,
don
’t you
think?’

Bass rubbed his
neck.

‘
I
still ain’t got him figured out yet, Father. Some men are easy to
read like a dime novel, but not Iron Eyes. He’s a man with a lotta
pages missing from his book.’

‘
The
pages are there, my son. It might be we have not yet managed to
translate them.’

‘
He
sure is a strange critter,’ Bass sighed heavily.

‘
What
was on the other two mules, Sheriff?’ Father Jose asked
quietly.

‘
Mostly food and canned milk for the folks and children of
that village, I guess,’ Bass responded, as he thought about the
eerily strange bounty hunter who never seemed to do anything which
made any sense to straight-thinking men.