Blood of Iron Eyes (11 page)

They did.

Fontaine leapt to the ground and pulled the blanket off his saddle. He opened the leather flaps of the bags which were tied to the cantle of his saddle and removed one of the bottles of whiskey. He threw it with all his force at the dry gates.

The bottle shattered into a million slivers,
spewing
its contents all over the weathered wood and surrounding brush.

‘What ya doin’, boss?’ Riley yelled out as he continued to fire his Winchester at the soldiers above them.

‘You’ll see!’ Fontaine shouted back to his top gun.

The riders watched as their leader removed the cigar from his mouth, blew on the glowing tip and then tossed it at the alcohol-splashed wooden gates.

The combination of tinder-dry wood, hard rotgut liquor and brush was a volatile mixture. When the burning tobacco was added, the flames erupted like a volcano. Within a mere few seconds the entire gate was engulfed in flames. Then Fontaine threw the last bottle at the blazing wall before him. Flames rose thirty feet into the air.

From the opposite end of the way station Iron Eyes prepared to start shooting down at Keno and the main body of gunslingers.

‘As soon as them riders comes below ya, shoot as many of the swine as ya can, boys!’ the bounty 
hunter shouted out to the troopers who manned the opposite wall.

Suddenly one of the station workers screamed out.

‘Fire! Fire!’

Every one of the men perched on the parapets looked at the elderly station worker and then to what he was frantically pointing at. Every one of the men on the high walkways stood in horror and disbelief.

Iron Eyes gritted his teeth and growled.

‘Get ready, Sherwood! We got less than a minute or so before that gate falls and Fontaine and his cronies ride in!’ he snapped, making his way to the nearest ladder. He started to climb down to the floor of the way station. ‘I’m gonna go protect Carmichael and the girl!’

Flames had already risen over the surface of the gates and were eating through the old wooden boards so quickly that they were already starting to crumble in blackened chunks.

As Iron Eyes raced across the courtyard, bathed in the light of the fire, towards the main building, he thought about Brewster Fontaine.

He had underestimated the man!

Fontaine was far more dangerous than he had given him credit for. As the bounty hunter reached the building he wondered whether that error of judgement might prove fatal.

Iron Eyes shouldered the door open and 
glanced around the large room. The stalwart figure of Herbert Carmichael and his terrified daughter were highlighted by crimson shafts of flickering light which cut in through the gaps between the window shutters.

‘Quick! If ya wanna live, follow me!’ The bounty hunter waved the barrel of his Colt at them before he made his way towards the corridor which led to the dozen or more guest-rooms on the ground floor. With every step Iron Eyes studied the rest of the building’s interior. A wooden staircase led up to a landing and a solitary door. The tall thin figure continued towards the corridor, which was bathed in shadow.

‘What’s happening out there, Iron Eyes?’ Carmichael asked breathlessly.

‘Move fast!’ Iron Eyes ordered bluntly.

They did.

The bounty hunter found the only room that did not have a window and then ushered them into it.

‘What’s happening, Iron Eyes?’ Carmichael repeated his question. ‘I thought you said that we were safe with the station gates locked!’

‘I did!’ Iron Eyes’ bony hands pushed both confused people inside the small room.

‘Has something changed?’

The grim-faced bounty hunter was about to reply when he caught sight of the woman’s face. He decided not to answer the question for fear of 
frightening the young Florence even more. There was something about her which intrigued him. She was so fragile, yet more beautiful than any other he had ever set eyes upon.

‘Barricade yaselves in here!’ he ordered. ‘Use the chairs and bed to stop them bustin’ the door down. Hide in the corner in case them varmints shoot through it! This door is the only way in or out of this room! OK?’

The young woman nodded as her father spoke once more.

‘Do you think we’ll survive this, Iron Eyes?’

Again Iron Eyes glanced at the timid Florence, who clung to her father’s arm. There was no supposing that she was strong enough to hear the truth, he thought. He decided to try and give her a scrap of hope to cling to.

‘Yep! They’ll not get ya!’ he said. He pulled the door shut and listened as its bolt was slid across. He paused until he heard the furniture in the room being moved to behind the door before moving back into the centre of the large room.

Suddenly the sound of something landing on the roof above his head stopped the bounty hunter in his tracks. Dust filtered down over him. He raised his gun and listened as the noise tracked across the wooden shingles.

His keen ears listened until he saw the body of one of the troopers who had been manning the parapet behind him fall limply to the ground in 
front of the open doorway.

Iron Eyes rushed to the crumpled body, leaned over and touched the blood-soaked neck. There was no sign of any pulse. Iron Eyes looked at the gruesome bullet wound in the side of the trooper’s skull. He then rose up to his full height. His gaze darted around the parapets. At least half the
troopers
were either dead or wounded.

Captain Sherwood was still battling alongside his men as they continued to fire their single-shot rifles down at Fontaine’s riders outside the walls. Iron Eyes glanced to his right. It had only been a matter of minutes since the gates had been drowned in an ocean of flames, yet they were already disintegrating. Sparks floated on the warm night air and landed on the shingle rooftops of the way station buildings. The fire had already spread to the tinder-dry stables.

Scores of terrified horses trapped within
whinnied
as they struggled to escape the smoke and fire which now was taking hold in the rafters and walls.

Iron Eyes was about to move to the closest trough and attempt to douse the flames with water when he heard a strange cracking sound. He spun on his heels and stared at the flaming gates. Even thirty feet away from the inferno, he could feel the incredible heat burning his scarred features. He dropped his gun into his deep pocket, grabbed a bucket and dipped it into the trough. Then he saw one half of the gate buckle on its hinges and fall. 
A cloud of smoke and red-hot cinders erupted and drifted into the heart of the courtyard.

‘This ain’t good!’ he told himself.

Fontaine and his men did not wait for the fire to consume the gates entirely before they ducked and drove their mounts through the pile of
burning
embers. A million fiery splinters sent a tidal wave of smouldering sparks across the courtyard and up into the black sky as the riders finally breached the way station’s defences.

The horsemen charged. Fontaine led what was left of his henchmen. Blinded by the ferocious flames and blistering heat, they all kept their heads low until they were certain they had ridden beyond the gates.

Iron Eyes watched as at least twenty riders rode straight at him. The bounty hunter could see the whites of the galloping horses’ eyes as they pelted towards him.

Iron Eyes dropped the bucket and threw himself through the corral poles. He landed heavily as a few of the horses crashed into the fencing. Long poles were smashed from their uprights and crashed down over the bounty hunter. He
scrambled
away through the dust when the shooting started again.

Sherwood was getting his troopers to shoot down at their uninvited intruders from the
parapets
whilst Fontaine and his henchmen returned fire. 

Gunsmoke mixed with the clouds of dust and black smoke that filled the entire courtyard.

Iron Eyes plucked one of his Navy Colts from his pocket and blasted at the nearest of the riders. He had fanned the gun’s hammer six times, and watched as three of the riders fell from their mounts and landed in the dust. He dropped the gun into his coat-pocket again and staggered toward Carmichael’s armoured coach. He dropped to the ground and crawled beneath it. The sound of bullets ricocheting off the
coach-work
rang in the bounty hunter’s ears.

Then his attention was drawn back to the
burning
stables and the pitiful sound of the horses trapped inside it. Iron Eyes knew that stampeding horses in a confined space could cause a lot of trouble. If he managed to stay out of their way and the troopers remained up high on the walls, the only people who would be faced by that trouble were Fontaine and his ruthless riders.

The bounty hunter pushed himself up and raced to the stable doors. He lifted the pole which secured them off its metal cradles and cast it aside.

Iron Eyes was knocked off his feet as the doors were violently charged open by the alarmed animals. He blinked hard and then saw the horses stampeding out of the smoke-filled stables straight at him.

He rolled out of the way just in time. Countless hoofs pounded the ground and smashed into the 
heavily armoured coach, sending it over on to its side.

The horses continued onwards. Survival instinct guided the wide-eyed creatures now. They had to escape the choking smoke and deadly flames.

Iron Eyes watched the small herd gallop through the fence-poles and into the midst of the mounted riders. It was mayhem. Horsemen fell as their horses were knocked down. Screams filled the area as they were crushed under hoofs. Dust and smoke hid the sight of the carnage from the bounty hunter’s keen eyes. But he could hear it all.

The sound of firing continued to ring out from all directions. It was the only thing which let him know that not all the horsemen within the way station were dead yet.

Fiery debris fell down from the stable’s roof and landed all around the lean figure. Iron Eyes glanced up. He then realized that the fire was spreading far more quickly than he had thought possible. Now flames leapt the distance between the stable and the main building’s roof which was now also alight.

Iron Eyes shook all the spent shells from his guns and reloaded swiftly. As he pushed the bullets into the empty chambers he tried to work out his next move.

Even through the dense dust he could see that some of the riders had managed to reach the front 
of the building where he had left Carmichael and Florence.

He knew he had to act fast.

Smoke and dust swirled around the area like a choking fog. It blinded him to the truth. The truth of how many of their attackers were still capable of killing.

Iron Eyes took three steps forward and caught a glimpse of the one man he recognized. Even though they were smothered in coloured grease, the features of Fontaine had been branded in the mind of the bounty hunter.

It was a face he could never forget.

Fontaine and a handful of his henchmen had thundered through the chaos and smoke beyond the fence-poles. They were still exchanging shots with the troopers outside the main building.

Iron Eyes leapt into action. He sped to where he had left Carmichael and his daughter. With every step he fired his guns through the dust and smoke at the riders.

He could not tell how many of his bullets had found their targets but it did not matter.

There was only one of the vicious horsemen that he really wanted to kill. The leader of the
murderous
riders was his only real prey. Iron Eyes knew that once Fontaine was dead, the rest of them would be like rattlers with their heads cut off.

He had to destroy Fontaine!

He also had to try and somehow get Carmichael 
and his daughter out of the building which was now on fire!

Bullets suddenly stopped his advance as they tore through the air and shattered the wooden wall beside him. A million splinters showered over Iron Eyes. There was no way he could reach the front of the building. The gunmen were already there and they were fending off all attempts to dislodge them.

Iron Eyes could see Fontaine and the riders dismounting. They raced into the building, still shooting their rifles and handguns at the soldiers high above them.

The angry bounty hunter knew he would have to find another way into the building if he were to save Carmichael and Florence. He dropped both guns into his deep coat-pockets and then started to climb up the side wall of the large building. There was an open window on the wall, about twenty feet above the ground.

If he could get inside, that would be the only way.

Flames were now dancing over a third of the tarred roof-shingles and molten fire dripped like rain over him. Yet even with the shoulders of his coat smouldering, Iron Eyes kept climbing.

With the dexterity of a desert lizard, Iron Eyes ascended the wall quickly. He reached the open window, dragged himself through it and dropped to the floor on the landing. Smoke was now
billowing
 
down from the rafters and filling the air with its choking stench. He raised himself up on to his feet again and screwed up his eyes.

It was almost impossible to see anything.

He carefully edged his way forward until he felt a wooden rail stop his progress.

The air was clearer down in the heart of the large room below him. He could see six of the heavily disguised men gathered around the door. They were firing their weaponry with a ferocity which had not abated even though they had lost so many of their cohorts.

The ceiling above his head started to blacken and then glow as the fire ate its way through the wood. A strange red light illuminated the high landing.

Silent, Iron Eyes remained above them. He reloaded his guns again from the loose bullets in his coat pockets. When both Navy Colts were ready he cocked their hammers.

‘Fontaine!’ he shouted out.

All six men turned and stared up at the awesome apparition.

Riley was still nursing the wound in his shoulder when he gasped:

‘Iron Eyes!’

Fontaine jumped up with his Winchester in his hands. Smoke trailed from its hot barrel.