Blood of Iron Eyes (7 page)

The large livery stable was set well away from the town’s main street. Its aroma hung heavily on the warm night air. The tall wooden structure had seen better days, as had its hard-working owner, Will Hume. The brawny blacksmith still had plenty of muscles, but now his once impressive frame was dominated by a huge swollen belly which hid his wide black leather belt. Hume seldom closed the large doors for business. He could not afford to turn any work away, whatever time of the day or night it came.

Hume lived in a small room set to the
right-hand
side of the livery stable’s frontage. His life was little more than a constant wait. He was always waiting for someone to bring their mounts to him, to either look after for the night, or to replace horseshoes.

If he was lucky he might see a dozen silver dollars in a week.

It was nearly ten and the town’s back streets were quiet apart from the occasional sound of a tinny piano carried on the night breeze from the closest of the towns saloons. Few men ventured to this part of Hope unless they were collecting their mounts from the livery stable.

The street was lit by a single coal-tar lantern perched on a high pole fifty yards from the front of the large building. Its light did not reach the wide-open doors. To the right of the stable was a corral. This was also owned by the blacksmith.

Hume munched with what teeth he had left inside his mouth on a dry chunk of bread as he inspected the half-dozen horses tied up in their stalls.

The flickering light from two oil-lanterns
hanging
on chains suspended from the rafters gave the interior of the stable a strange haunting
illumination
. Black shadows seemed to dance to the tune created by the light of the flaming
kerosene-soaked
wicks.

To the more imaginative it might have seemed as if demons or the like were possessing the cavernous structure, but the blacksmith had stopped believing in ghosts long ago. He knew that such things were for the weak-minded. There was only the reality of a life which had grown harder and harder to survive.

The eyes of the horses in the stalls sparkled as Hume checked each in turn. 

The blacksmith might have been long past his best days, but he was good at his job. No horse that he cared for ever lacked attention, food or water.

Even in his darkest moments the burly man never allowed his own despair to affect his work. Hume never mistreated any animals in his stables. He knew that however bad his life had become, their burden was far heavier than his own.

After checking the last of the horses, the
well-built
Hume nodded in satisfaction and made to return to his small living-quarters to finish his supper.

Suddenly he sensed that he was no longer alone inside the large building.

He paused and looked around.

For a moment he saw nothing. Then his eyes focused on the shape of a tall figure framed in the middle of the stable’s open doors.

The sight startled the blacksmith.

Hume took a backward step and tried to focus even harder on the unexpected visitor. He told himself that whatever this creature was, it had to be human. The trouble was, no human had ever put the fear of God into him the way this apparition did. Hume felt his heart pounding inside his broad chest. His throat felt as if a noose had been
tightened
around it.

The blacksmith steadied himself and swallowed hard. He rubbed his whiskered chin with the palms of his hands and forced himself to step 
forward once again. The light from the pair of lanterns caught the metal of a pair of Navy Colt gun grips which poked out from the man’s belt.

Iron Eyes remained totally still.

Only his long limp hair moved as the gentle breeze washed over his broad shoulders from along the empty street. Hume had not heard the tall skeletal figure approaching. Even with an injured leg, Iron Eyes’s honed hunting instincts had not deserted him. He was still able to move unseen and unheard when he had to.

‘Ya open for business?’ Iron Eyes asked.

‘I’m always open for business, stranger!’

‘Good!’

‘Who are ya?’ Hume asked nervously.

‘My name’s Iron Eyes!’

Hume gasped.

‘The bounty hunter?’

Iron Eyes nodded.

‘Yep!’

Fear fuelled the imagination of Will Hume as he stared open-mouthed at the unholy image of Iron Eyes bathed in the blackest of the livery stable’s shadows. He knew that the infamous bounty hunter had a thousand ways of killing. Each and every one of them flashed through his mind. The blacksmith could feel his knees knocking as the tall figure limped toward him silently. The chilling realization that the most hunted man in Hope was less than a few yards away from him made Hume feel as if he were living his last moments on earth.

If death had a face, then surely this was it.

As Iron Eyes ventured into the light of one of the suspended lanterns Hume gave a gasp. He had never seen anyone who looked like the tall man before. A hundred or more battles were carved into the features of the bounty hunter. Scars twisted the flesh of Iron Eyes’ face until it no longer looked remotely human. The small
bullet-coloured
eyes peered rapidly all around the
interior
of the large stable as if seeking out enemies yet to be discovered.

The grips of the well-used guns poked out from the belt around the thin belly of the bounty hunter. The blacksmith knew that at any moment the bony hands might drag them from the belt and start dishing out their own brand of justice –
36-calibre
justice.

Iron Eyes’ infamous legend had reached this remote town long before he had physically appeared.

Hume licked his dry lips and tried to speak. His throat was too tight to allow even a single word to pass between them. Again his eyes were drawn to the pair of matched Navy Colts pushed into Iron Eyes’ pants’ belt. Their grips jutted out defiantly at the blacksmith as he limped toward the horses.

‘I need me a horse!’ Iron Eyes said bluntly. ‘Nothin’ fancy. Just an animal that can gallop until it drops and ain’t frightened of gunplay!’

Hume turned slowly and attempted to compose himself.

‘Two of these nags belong to townsfolk. The others are mine. Take ya pick.’

Iron Eyes looked up and down the stalled mounts.

‘Which one is the best?’

‘The grey,’ Hume answered quickly. ‘He’s the most reliable when it comes to bein’ sure-footed!’ 

Iron Eyes limped to the grey horse and stared at it coldly. He had never liked horses and yet found that they were the one thing he could not do
without
.

‘How much?’

‘F-forty dollars.’ Hume stammered nervously. He was too scared to ask more, even though he knew that the grey was probably worth double. ‘Is that OK?’

‘Fine!’ Iron Eyes muttered.

Hume felt a little less frightened. Then a thought suddenly occurred to him.

‘How did ya get here without me hearing ya, Iron Eyes?’ he asked innocently.

‘A friend gave me a ride up to ya corral. I limped the rest of the way.’

‘But I never heard them spurs of yours make even the smallest of noises!’ Hume pointed at the large spurs attached to the mule-eared boots. ‘I don’t get it!’

‘They’re kinda rusted up with blood!’ the bounty hunter responded quietly. ‘Horse blood!’

‘Oh!’ Hume gulped.

Iron Eyes glanced at the blacksmith again. This time his eyes were narrowed and seemed to have fire in their blazing gaze.

‘Ya ain’t seen my saddle and bags, have ya? My horse was shot earlier today outside the saloon.’

Without a second’s hesitation Hume nodded his head slowly and pointed to the corner. The saddle 
and bridle were there with the saddle-bags on top of a bale of hay.

‘There! I had to use a wagon to drag ya horse here from the Spinning Wheel after that gunfight. I buried it out back. I put all ya gear over there. I never opened the bags.’

Iron Eyes said nothing.

He limped to the pile of his only possessions, plucked up the bags off the saddle and opened both satchels. He studied the contents carefully. His eyes then returned to the nervous blacksmith.

‘What’s ya name?’

‘Will Hume,’ the blacksmith replied.

‘Ya an honest man, Will Hume. Damn honest.’ Iron Eyes said.

Hume felt as if a weight had been lifted from his powerful shoulders. For the first time since encountering the strange figure, he felt that Iron Eyes had no intention of killing him. He watched as the bounty hunter slowly limped back towards him with the bags over his left forearm.

‘Ya must have seen the golden eagles in my bag?’ Iron Eyes queried before adding: ‘Most men could not have resisted that kinda temptation.’

‘I told ya. I never looked,’ Hume said. ‘I figured that ya would come back for ya goods if’n ya lived long enough. And by the looks of all them bodies that was stacked up on main street, I reckoned you was mighty hard to kill.’

‘I still say that ya honest!’ 

‘Reckon so!’

Iron Eyes held out his hand and offered two fifty-dollar gold pieces to the blacksmith. They glinted in the lantern-light.

Hume looked at them and shrugged.

‘I ain’t got me any money, Iron Eyes. I can’t break even one gold piece.’

Iron Eyes leaned closer and pushed the coins into the man’s vest-pocket.

‘Keep them. Ya earned the difference.’

Hume’s face lit up.

‘I thought ya was gonna kill me.’ He sighed heavily.

Iron Eyes nodded.

‘I would have killed ya if ya’d stolen my money, Will Hume!’

The blacksmith shuddered.

‘I knew being honest would pay off one day!’

Iron Eyes draped the saddle-bags over the top of the stall rail and ran a hand down the neck of the grey. His mind was racing as he tried to work out how he could get the better of Brewster Fontaine and lay his hands on the reward money that was due to him. He also thought about the
information
that Ted Cooper had given him about the government man called Carmichael.

Iron Eyes had always tried to stay on the right side of the law, but in this town and territory it was a mighty thin line between right and wrong. He knew that if Carmichael had the full power of the 
law behind him it might be profitable to locate him and his army escort. This man could get Iron Eyes his bounty money if anyone could.

Iron Eyes watched as the blacksmith released the rope across the stall where the grey stood.

‘Tell me, if someone was headed here by
stagecoach
, which way would they come, Will?’

‘Ain’t no stages ever comes here, Iron Eyes,’ the blacksmith said as he led the grey out of its stall. ‘This town is just too dangerous for them
stagecoach
owners to risk it. We got us a town full of outlaws and that don’t sit well with them folks.’

‘But if they did, which route would they take?’ Iron Eyes knew that there had to be a trail for merchant traders to bring goods to Hope and the other towns that fringed the fertile grassland.

Hume paused.

‘East of here Apache Wells has a way station,’ he told the tall figure. ‘I heard that they was thinkin’ of branchin’ down here one day, but so far they ain’t. The Overland Stage Company uses that place to change teams and feed their passengers, I’m told. That’s gotta be the closest route to Hope, I guess.’

‘That’s gotta be it!’ Iron Eyes said.

‘Gotta be what?’ Hume asked as he threw a
blanket
on the back of the grey and patted it down.

‘The place that Fontaine will be headed toward with his men!’

Hume looked confused. 

‘What ya talkin’ about, Iron Eyes? Why would Fontaine head over there?’

Iron Eyes shrugged.

‘It’s a long story. I heard that he was gonna attack some folks. Folks from the East that wanna try and turn this territory into a state.’

‘Ya gonna go help them folks?’ Hume asked. He walked across the livery to the saddle and lifted it up.

‘Nope. I’m gonna warn them. That’s different,’ Iron Eyes corrected as Hume returned with the saddle.

‘Ya don’t seem the sort to go stickin’ ya nose into other folks’ troubles.’ The blacksmith hauled the saddle on top of the blanket on the grey’s back.

‘I ain’t!’ Iron Eyes said bluntly. ‘I’m gonna make sure that the authorities get my side of the story before this Fontaine critter has me branded as a killer!’

Hume reached below the horse’s belly and
gathered
up the cinch straps. He threaded them through their buckles and looked over the saddle at the bounty hunter.

‘So ya ain’t gonna help them folks at Apache Wells, huh?’

‘I’m gonna make sure that I get my bounty money!’ Iron Eyes explained. ‘I’m owed, Will. I’m owed a lot!’

The blacksmith’s strong arms tightened and secured the cinch straps. For some reason he did 
not believe the bounty hunter. It seemed to him that Iron Eyes just could not prevent himself from finding new battles to fight.

‘What if Fontaine does attack them Eastern folks?’ he asked. ‘Are ya tryin’ to tell me that ya won’t help kill Fontaine and his gang?’

Iron Eyes gave a slight grin.

‘Come to think of it, killin’ Fontaine and that bunch of killers might be profitable at that, Will.’ The bounty hunter sighed.

‘Ya a mighty strange man, Iron Eyes!’ Hume declared. ‘Ain’t killin’ just killin’?’

‘Nope! I never kill anyone who ain’t got bounty on their heads!’ Iron Eyes answered. ‘Killin’ folks who ain’t wanted dead or alive is just a waste of bullets, and I hate wasting bullets! There ain’t no profit in that!’

Hume watched Iron Eyes drape the saddle-bags behind the cantle and secure them with leather laces. Then the bounty hunter carefully mounted the grey and gathered up the reins.

‘Where ya headed first? To Apache Wells?’

‘First I have to see what Fontaine and his boys are doing! I have to make sure that they are gonna head for Apache Wells and that Carmichael varmint! If they are, then I have to ride and warn them people!’

‘What ya think will happen, Iron Eyes?’

Iron Eyes gave a wry smile.

‘Well, Will, if things stack up the way they usually 
do, I’m headed straight into the jaws of death! The question is, will it be mine or the bastards that keep shootin’ at me?’

Before the blacksmith could respond the spurs jabbed into the flesh of the grey. The startled animal leapt into action. Iron Eyes rode out into the dark street. Hume ran to the large, open stable doors, but there was no sign of either the horse or its new master.

Like the mythical phantoms he so resembled, Iron Eyes had vanished into the blackness of the night.

‘I’d hate to be any of the folks loco enough to try and stop that critter!’ Hume whispered to himself. ‘That
hombre
’s a sack of rattlers!’