Iron Eyes Must Die (4 page)

‘
Sure
enough,’ he gasped.

Snake Adams released the hammer and holstered
his gun. There was a look of satisfaction etched into his features
as he turned and stared off into the distance. He pulled off his
gloves and rammed them into the pockets of his trail coat before
removing it and tossing it over his saddle.

‘
Time!’ he said, snapping his fingers at Ben Lynch. He
pulled out a small well-worn book of timetables from his inside
vest pocket. He flicked through its pages until he found the one he
was looking for.

Lynch lowered his rifle and reached into his
vest pocket. He produced a golden half-hunter and opened its
lid.

‘
It’s
nearly seven, Snake!’ he said.

Adams nodded, staring at the book.

‘
The
west-bound will be here in roughly thirty minutes according to
this.’

Buck Harris shook his head.

‘
I
could kill them all in a lot less than thirty minutes, Snake!’ he
boasted. ‘You should have let me kill them!’

Adams tossed the book aside and gave the
deadly killer beside him a hard stare.

‘
That
ain’t the plan, Buck!’ he rapped.

Harris did not reply.

Adams snapped his fingers again at Mayne and
Brewster.

‘
Ferdy? You and One Ear go and make sure them folks don’t do
nothing heroic! Hog tie the whole bunch of them. I don’t want them
messin’ up this job.’

‘
I
don’t get it, Snake.’ Harris shrugged. ‘Ain’t we here to kill all
these critters?’

‘
Just
do as I tell you, Buck!’ Adams said sternly. He waved a hand at
Mayne and Brewster. ‘There’ll be plenty of killing
later.’

The two riders touched the brims of their
hats and walked off after the terrified crowd. A trail of blood
marked the exact route.

A train whistle echoed across the plains.

Adams raised his hand and shielded his eyes
from the blinding early morning sun. He looked along the tracks
which seemed to go on into infinity towards the distant
mountains.

‘
There!’ he said pointing.

The others all nodded as they too saw the
distant plume of black smoke trailing into the sky.

‘
Get
the horses out of sight!’ Adams commanded. ‘We don’t want to
advertise our being here, do we?’

Rio Concho was no place to spend the night
on the wrong side of jail bars. Iron Eyes had not slept throughout
the long cold hours of darkness. Even badly injured, he knew that
he had barely enough time to make his bid for freedom if the
corrupt lawmen managed to lure Judge Franklin Travis into town for
a quick trial. The infamous hanging judge might be close enough to
reach the border town a few hours after sunrise. If there was one
thing Travis could not resist, it was the chance to string up
another man, whether he was guilty or innocent.

Iron Eyes could not take the
chance. The bounty hunter had been quick to realize that there was
only one possible way of escaping the cage in which he had been
imprisoned. The window was far too high to reach. The cell
walls
were
well-constructed of stone with a thick layer of cement covering
them, making them almost impenetrable. The bars and cell door were
equally well-made of forged iron. There was only one route to
freedom from this place.

As soon as he had been ushered into the jail
he had noticed that the floor was nothing more than compacted
earth. It had been pounded down until solid, but it was still only
earth. And earth was no match for a Bowie-knife blade.

Iron Eyes knew that if he could remove enough
earth from directly under the wall of iron bars, he could get into
the small outer corridor. Then only the door to the office would
stand between himself and freedom.

The laughter had ended roughly an hour after
the sheriff and his men had left him in the cell. The talking had
continued for another hour or so.

Then the
sheriff’s office had fallen
chillingly silent.

The bounty hunter had wondered whether there
were any of the lawmen remaining in the office or had they all
simply left their prisoner alone in the single-storey building?

All he was certain about was that the talking
had ceased.

Iron Eyes had waited until then before he had
been able to start working on the floor beside the metal bars. It
had seemed an easy job when he had started but he soon began to
realize that years of men walking over this crude floor had made it
become almost solid.

But he was not a creature to quit once he had
started something. It had taken hours, yet suddenly the ground
before him started to yield to the merciless persistence of the man
known throughout the west as the living ghost.

The sun had risen an hour or so
earlier. Its golden light had traced into the small cell through
the high barred window. It had been on the ceiling at first, but
the light was moving gradually
down to where Iron Eyes was
digging.

Time was his enemy now. There was far too
little of it for him to rest. He was more tired than he had ever
been in his entire life. His throat was dry and craved whiskey but
Sheriff Payne had not even provided water for his prisoner.

Iron Eyes glanced over his broad, lean
shoulder at the sun on the wall. The closer it got to the injured
kneeling figure, the faster he worked. Iron Eyes had no idea what
the time was or when the sheriff or his men might open the locked
doorway which separated the office from the jail.

All he knew for sure was that he had to
finish his work long before they checked on him. This would be his
only chance and he could not afford to waste even a second of
it.

He dragged a pile of earth away. The hole was
almost big enough for him to slide under. Almost, but not quite. He
pulled the sharp blade through the compacted earth over and over
again.

Every instinct in his body told him that time
was running out fast. He slid his knife back into his boot, and
then clawed at the earth with his bloodied fingers.

Every few minutes he would roll over on to
his back and try to slither beneath the bars.

Then on the tenth attempt, he managed to edge
his lean skeletal frame under them. He pulled himself clear and
clambered up on to his feet. He stood and steadied himself.

He had escaped the cell, but he was now in
the even smaller corridor. His hands moved over the metal door
looking for a weak spot in its construction.

He could not find any.

This door had been forged like the bars
themselves. Sheets of iron had been riveted together. It was a
masterful piece of workmanship.

It was an exhausted Iron Eyes
who rested his still swollen face against its cold surface. He
closed his eyes
and sighed heavily. Then he started to wonder again if
there might not be someone in the sheriff’s office.

He strained to hear if there were any sounds
coming from that direction. Iron Eyes could not detect any sign of
life and bit his lip.

They must have left him alone, he concluded!
He nodded silently to himself.

He pushed himself away from the door and
wondered how he would manage to get past it. He knew that he could
dig himself under this obstacle as well, but he had no stomach even
to try. He knew that time was running out. Every passing moment
meant that more and more people in this remote settlement would be
rising to start a new day.

He wondered if the lawmen were early
risers!

Suddenly his eyes focused on
the doorframe itself. It too was made of metal. Iron Eyes nodded to
himself. The notorious hunter of men realized
that to hold such a heavy door
the frame would also have to be far stronger than any ordinary
one.

He took a step closer to the frame and
touched the three hefty hinges in turn.

Whoever had created this masterpiece had made
one error, he thought.

They had erected it the wrong way around.

The hinges were meant to be on the opposite
side, facing into the office itself. Not on the cell side.

Iron Eyes reached down to his boot again and
pulled out his trusty knife.

He knew that however keen a knife was, it was
no match for a solid metal door, but the hinge pins were a
different matter. They could be forced from the hinges. Once they
were out, the sheer weight of the door would be enough to break
even the strongest of locks.

Iron Eyes carefully used the
blade to lever the pin out of the top hinge. Slowly he rocked his
sturdy knife until
the long brass pin was freed from the hinge. He pulled it
clear and tossed it through the bars on to the cot. Then he
repeated the action on the middle hinge. This time it was harder to
work the pin upwards. He had to use every scrap of his remaining
strength before it too was removed.

Again the bony hands tossed the pin on to the
cot.

The last hinge was the most stubborn and
potentially the most dangerous to remove. The door might come
crashing down on him if he were careless.

Iron Eyes had to kneel to use his deadly
knife. The bounty hunter forced the honed edge into the narrow gap
above the hinge and twisted it. Time and time again the blade
slipped off the brass pin and scratched the paint off the
frame.

Iron Eyes then realized that
all the weight of the heavy door was now weighing down on the
bottom hinge. He pushed his shoulder into the cold metal surface of
the door and felt it
move a fraction of an inch. He then quickly used
his knife blade again to prize the pin up and out of its
well-crafted home. It fell at his feet.

The exhausted figure kept his shoulder on the
door as he slowly rose up again to his full height. He knew that if
he made one mistake the door might fall and crush him.

Cautiously, he placed the palms of both hands
upon the riveted surface. He had no idea what the heavy door might
do once he released his grip from it.

Would it remain where it was?

Would it fall into the jail?

What if it fell and bounced? He could have
both legs broken like dry kindling if such a weight glanced across
him.

Sweat trickled down his hideously mutilated
features as he moved to the side of the doorframe. He kept his
hands pressing against it to keep it steady.

Iron Eyes removed his hands and
pressed himself into the corner beside
the doorframe. For a few seconds
nothing happened.

Then it groaned.

Iron Eyes gritted his teeth and watched as
the door fell away from its frame. The lock shattered and it
crashed on to the floor so heavily it shook the ground beneath his
boots.

Without a
moment
’s
hesitation, he leapt into the sheriff’s office. The thick
window-blinds were still down. The office was empty and dark. Iron
Eyes moved like a puma to the desk and used his knife to break the
lock of the top left drawer where he had seen Sheriff Payne put his
precious guns the night before. He pulled out his pair of Navy
Colts and checked that they were still loaded. He then dragged his
long trail coat off the tall wooden hat stand and swiftly slid his
arms into the sleeves.

He checked that his deep
pockets were still filled with bullets before he moved to the
window. He dropped his guns
into the pockets and pressed himself up against
the wall beside the window.

Iron Eyes eased the blind away and looked up
and down the street. It was still early. It was still quiet. He was
about to sigh with relief when a sound startled him.

‘
You
figurin’ on going someplace, Iron Eyes?’

The voice came from behind the tall bounty
hunter. Iron Eyes swung around. He searched for the owner of the
sickly sounding drawl. Iron Eyes recognized the voice, it was
Sheriff Payne. He was about to reply when a gun fired.

The shaft of red-hot lead cut
across the darkened room from the barrel of the
sheriff’s gun. A bullet hit the
wall to the side of Iron Eyes.

The tall man dropped to the floor.

He pulled one of his lethal Navy Colts from
his pocket and hauled its hammer back until it locked. He then
crawled behind the sturdy desk.

‘
You
bin here all night, Sheriff?’ he called out as his eyes darted
around the room trying to locate the lawman.

There was no reply.

Iron Eyes heard the sound of movement twenty
feet from where he knelt. He trained his gun on it.

‘
What’s ya game, Sheriff?’ Iron Eyes growled. ‘I heard you
talkin’ to them deputies of yours. You ain’t no better than
horse-thieves. Stealin’ a man’s bounty money and aiming to get him
hung!’

The sheriff fanned the hammer of his gun
three times. The bullets tore into the desk sending chunks of
splintered wood over the bounty hunter.

Iron Eyes pulled the long slivers of wood
from his face and then blasted back furiously. He did not stop
firing until his six-shooter was empty.

‘
I
thought the great Iron Eyes was ’sposed to be a better shot than
that!’ Payne taunted.

Iron Eyes shook the spent bullets from his
gun and reloaded its hot chambers with fresh shells from his
pockets.

‘
So
you have heard of me!’ Iron Eyes grunted. ‘I knew ya was lying last
night!’