The Fury of Iron Eyes (An Iron Eyes Western #4) (9 page)

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Authors: Rory Black

Tags: #bounty hunter, #pulp fiction, #wild west, #old west, #western fiction, #piccadilly publishing, #rory black, #iron eyes

BOOK: The Fury of Iron Eyes (An Iron Eyes Western #4)
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But it shines,’ Iron Eyes
shrugged. ‘Folks back east like it ‘cos it shines.’


They stupid.’ The young
Cheyenne spat at the ground.


They sure ain’t got the
same values as us hunters and that’s for sure, Silent Wolf.’ Iron
Eyes watched as the distant warriors continued past the soldiers
and headed towards the mouth of the valley. He was curious. ‘Where
are your people headed?’

‘I do not know,’ Silent Wolf
replied as he,
too, wondered where his fellow Cheyenne were going. As a
hunter, he would have stopped when he was above his prey and then
struck. Seeing the long line of Indian riders continuing through
the trees made no sense to his own honed instincts.

Before either man could
speak again, a noise like thunderous lightning bolts filled both
their ears. The red-hot tapers of bullets seemed to flash all
around them from behind their mounts.

They were being shot
at.

Without knowing what or who
could be using them for target practice, Iron Eyes slapped his long
reins across the tail of Silent Wolfs grey pony. The animal leapt
forward and raced through a gap between the trees with its young
master hanging on to its mane. Iron Eyes swung his horse
full-circle as the shots tore up the air around him, and drew one
of his Navy Colts. He fired blindly back at the place where the
bullets were originating.

As Iron Eyes’ sixth bullet
blasted from the long blue barrel of his pistol, he turned the
horse and dug his spurs into its flesh. The animal jumped down on
to the lower ground where the grey pony had just fled, and then
began to follow.

Pushing his empty gun into
one of his roomy coat pockets, Iron Eyes grabbed his reins in both
hands, pulled his mount’s head up and rode into the
darkness.

Bullets continued to follow
the bounty hunter until he managed to steer his petrified horse
into the dense trees. He continued riding hard until he saw the
waiting Cheyenne rider before him. Only then did he drag his mount
to a stop.


Who shoot at us, Iron
Eyes?’

Iron Eyes dismounted and
checked his horse before replying. ‘Whoever it was, they were using
handguns.’


How you know
this?’

‘I’ve heard most guns in my
time, little hunter. That was two Remingtons
and a Colt.’ Iron Eyes ran his
hand over his tired horse and bit his lip.

‘Must be white
men
,’ Silent
Wolf said thoughtfully. ‘But why white men up here and why they
shoot at us?’


I figure they was shooting
at me.’ Iron Eyes shook his head as he felt the pain starting once
again inside his skull. The violent riding had also started his
head wound bleeding again and a thin line of blood trickled down
his face. The bounty hunter ran a finger across his temple and
stared at the blood on it.


You bleeding.’


Yeah,’ Iron Eyes said
whilst loading his empty gun before ramming it into his belt next
to its lethal twin. ‘I keep bleeding like this and there ain’t
gonna be none left.’


Who shoot at Iron Eyes and
Silent Wolf?’ the brave asked out loud.

Iron Eyes tied his reins to
a tree branch. ‘Reckon I ought to take a look.’

Silent Wolf leapt from his pony
and
ran to
the side of the gaunt figure. ‘We both take look.’

Iron Eyes was in no mood to
argue. ‘Let’s do us some tracking, little hunter.’

Chapter Sixteen

The sound of distant
gunfire was still echoing all around the moonlit valley, and in the
hearts of the cavalry who waited anxiously for the gold miners to
ready their ten wagons. There was a chilling warning to the
troopers in the sounds of the bullets that came from the
mountainous forests.

It was clear that something
had or was still occurring in the black trees above his men, and
Major Roberts decided he could wait no longer to make his retreat
from this handsome valley. Bullets were being fired and the officer
had no idea who their intended targets were. He stepped into his
stirrup, hauled himself on to his fresh, eager mount and rode
around his men trying to impart his own stalwart courage into his
meager force.

Major Thomas Roberts grabbed
hold
of his
reins and eased his horse towards the large figure of Sergeant
Walker.


Let’s get out of this
place, John.’


Reckon it must be about
time, sir,’ Walker nodded in obedience.


Hopefully we have not left
it too late,’ Roberts whispered to his favorite soldier.

The burly sergeant screamed
at the troopers to mount whilst Roberts rode along the line of
wagons until he found the one with Bull Fergis sitting on its
driving board. Reining in, the officer leaned close to the wheel
brake and spoke to the bearded man.


I hope you’re ready, Mr.
Fergis, because I’m heading out right now. Those shots might not
have been aimed directly at us, but I for one am not going to wait
for the second volley.’

Fergis wrestled with the
heavy reins attached to his team of oxen and nodded. ‘We’re ready,
Major. You lead and we’ll follow.’


I pray we shall live to
share a bottle of whiskey together, Mr. Fergis.’

Roberts waved his white
gauntlet in the air and then rode ahead of the caravan entrusted to
his care. One by one the wagons began to move slowly through the
tall, damp grass after the straight-backed officer, whilst the
troopers flanked them on both sides.

It was a slow-moving
company of vehicles and riders at first, which gradually increased
its pace as the heavy oxen managed to find their footing in the
fertile soil.

Sergeant Walker drove his
mount through the long grass until he was next to the horse of
Major Roberts. It was the place that he always chose to
be.


What do you reckon those
shots were all about, sir?’ Walker asked his leader.

‘I’m not sure, but I’m in no
hurry to find out either. All I want to do is get out of this
valley and back on the prairie before there’s trouble,’ the officer
announced, as he allowed his horse to canter at a pace designed
to
allow the
wagons to catch up with him.


Sounded like a gunfight to
me,’ Walker said as he kept his horse level with
Roberts’s.


You might be correct, but
we have other things to do tonight rather than theorize about
that.’ Roberts looked back at the wagons as their drivers were
managing to get their huge teams of oxen to gain speed. The sound
of bullwhips cracking above the horns of the teams of massive oxen
echoed around the valley. It was a sound which chilled the riding
troopers as their tired eyes scanned the forested hills for signs
of trouble.


Guess you’re right, sir.
We gotta try and get this band of misfits to safety,’ Walker
shouted as he held on to his reins and rode alongside the troubled
commander of their aborted mission.

The grim-faced officer knew the
words of his faithful sergeant were harsh but true. These men, who
rode on horses and wagons, knew nothing of
Indian fighting. They had not fought
for their very lives as he and Walker had done so long ago. They
were placing their lives in his hands. They could do nothing but
have faith that he would make the correct decisions and not lead
them to their deaths.

As Thomas Roberts guided
his trotting horse ever onward, he hoped that he still had all the
skills this duty warranted for success. He prayed with every stride
of his mount, that he still remembered enough of the ways of the
Cheyenne to return these terrified followers to the safety of Fort
Bruce.

They continued along the
valley, bathed in the haunting blue light of the large, taunting
moon above them until they had covered nearly three miles. It had
been an uneventful retreat, which every soul under the command of
Major Roberts was grateful for, but it was not to remain that
way.

Suddenly, ahead of the hundred
riders and the ten wagons, Major Roberts
caught sight of something which at
first he imagined was merely an apparition.

As he led them closer to
what he had thought to be a trick of the light, Roberts realized it
was real.

Chapter Seventeen

Never in all his days had
Major Thomas Roberts ever witnessed a sight more terrifying than
the one which confronted him as he rode along the valley ahead of
the gold miners’ wagons and his troopers. This was something he had
not expected in his wildest nightmares.

Visible in the haunting
light of the large moon Roberts could clearly see a barricade
directly ahead of them. It was a wall of tinder-dry brush that had
been dragged from the forest and spread across the narrow mouth of
the lush valley.

Aiming his spirited mount
straight ahead, Roberts’s keen eyes spotted the figures moving
behind the thick, hastily-constructed barricade. Experience told
him that these were Cheyenne braves he was observing. As his weary
brain
fought
desperately to try and work out exactly what they were hoping to
achieve by building something his horses and wagons could quite
easily crush underfoot, he noticed something to the right of his
galloping mount.

A small campfire glowed at
the foot of the tree line, tended by countless Cheyenne. As Roberts
spotted the men beyond the wall of brush rushing towards the fire,
he began to realize what they were doing. The Indians knew that no
mere wall of brush could prevent his men escaping the valley, but
something else could.

Suddenly, Major Roberts
knew he was right. Dozens of arrows were dipped into the flames of
the fire and then sent arching through the cool, night air at the
makeshift obstacle.

Each and every one of the
deadly fiery missiles seemed to land in the barricade before others
joined them. Soon the entire length of the obstruction was alight.
The wall of fire stretched from one side of the valley
to the next,
sending flames raging high into the sky.

The barricade had become a
vicious wall of fire.

Major Thomas Roberts
dragged his reins up and slowed his pace until he and Sergeant
Walker were level with the following wagons and
cavalrymen.


What’s going on?’ Bull
Fergis screamed from the driver’s seat of his wagon. ‘Where the
hell did that fire come from?’

Major Roberts raised his
left hand until each and every one of his caravan had seen his
white gauntlet. Within twenty yards, they had all
stopped.

Every eye watched the
flames as they twisted into the night sky above them. Choking smoke
swirled around the valley as the officer turned his horse and rode
up beside the wagon of the frantic Fergis.

‘It seems that the Cheyenne
intend to try and stop our leaving their valley, Mr. Fergis,’
Roberts said, as he rested a hand
on the long brake pole of the wagon and
looked up at the startled expression of the gold miner.


We gonna stay here?’
Fergis asked as he clung to the heavy leather reins and held his
team of oxen in check. ‘’Cos if n we do, I don’t reckon much on our
chances, Major.’


Nor do I,’ Roberts said,
as even from the distance of a quarter mile, he could feel the heat
of the fire touching his controlled features.

Sergeant Walker drew his
mount level. ‘They got us penned in, sir.’


How high do you think that
barricade is, John?’ Thomas Roberts asked as he rubbed at his dry
mouth with his gloved fingers.


Ten or twenty feet high,
sir,’ Walker spat as the taste of the smoke filled his
mouth.


No. Not the flames. The
actual body of the barricade. How tall would you say it is?’
Roberts asked.

Sergeant Walker spun his horse
around and looked hard at the flames before them. It was difficult
to see into
the heart of the fire, but not impossible.


Three feet? Maybe
six.’

Roberts nodded. It’s hard
to tell at this distance, isn’t it?’ he said quietly as he allowed
his mount to walk along the team of snorting oxen. ‘But I have a
feeling you are probably right.’

Walker allowed his horse to
follow his superior officer. ‘Yeah. It is kinda hard to work out
how high that kindling is from here, sir. It can’t be very high
though. Them Cheyenne wouldn’t have had time to build nothing too
tall.’


Perhaps we ought to get a
tad closer?’ Roberts suggested as he studied the wall of fire with
an intensity few men could match. ‘I think it might prove
interesting, John.’

Walker swallowed hard. He
knew exactly what Major Roberts meant. He had ridden with this
brave soldier for too many years not to be able to read his every
thought.


Reckon you’re right,
sir.’

‘What you two talking about?’
Bull
Fergis
shouted at the pair of cavalrymen.

Roberts turned his head and
looked back at the bearded miner whose face, like everyone else’s,
was illuminated in the eerie flames before them.

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