The Spurs of Iron Eyes (Iron Eyes Western #3) (9 page)

Father Jose crossed himself
as he watched the two riders crossing the shallow river below their
vantage point.

‘
Now
only God can protect him.’

‘
I got
me a feeling Iron Eyes don’t need anyone’s help.’

‘
Even
so, I shall pray for him,’ the priest announced.

Bass walked away from the
chapel towards his office and wondered why Iron Eyes was risking
his neck. It made no sense to the lawman, but the more he thought
about it, the more it seemed as if a man could not alter his
destiny.

Even a man like Iron
Eyes.

There was a haunting
silence ahead of Iron Eyes and Pablo as they steered their mounts
down into the seemingly endless fields of ripe crops. It had been
dark for several hours when the two riders crossed the fertile
valley towards the small group of whitewashed adobes at its centre.
The moonlight seemed to pick out each and every one of the
structures like jewels in a far off crown. Iron Eyes had now taken
the lead and given the tethers of the four pack animals to the
frail Pablo whilst he concentrated on the vast panorama around
them.

If trouble was lurking out
there amid the thousands of shadows, Iron Eyes would sense it long
before it raised its ugly head. His sharp vision searched the
unfamiliar landscape with an accuracy far beyond any ordinary
human
’s
ability.

As the hooves of their
tired mounts drew closer to their goal the nostrils of the
long-haired figure began to catch a hint of something on the night
air.

Iron Eyes could smell the
aroma of burning kindling beneath a skillet of bacon fat somewhere
off in the distance. Jabbing in his spurs, Iron Eyes forced the
horse on through the endless pasture. Instinctively he knew the
smell did not originate in the village ahead, but came from further
south near a mesa bathed in the blanket of night.

Pablo drew his mount level
with Iron Eyes as gradually they quickened their pace.

‘
You
see anything,
senor?'

‘
Nope,
but my nose can smell something, Pablo,’ Iron Eyes
replied.

‘
Maybe
the evil ones are in my village?’ The old voice ached as it spoke.
He was tired and had gone far beyond his own endurance, but still
he refused to quit.

The suggestion was greeted
with another grunting response.

‘If
the bandits were holed up in your
village they would be making some sorta noise. There ain’t no
noise. They are off to the south burning their supper,
Pablo.’

‘I
too can smell something, Iron Eyes,’
Pablo said as he sniffed the air.

‘
Burning grub has a familiar scent to it, huh,
amigo?’

‘
When
you are old and long since buried your wife, all your meals smell
like that,’ Pablo admitted. ‘Is it not so, Iron Eyes?’

‘Y
ep.’ Iron Eyes spat at the ground,
yearning for a cigar to take the taste of the trail out of his dry
mouth. This was not a place to go striking matches though. A single
match flame could be seen and used to bring a rider down off his
horse by an expert with a long rifle. So the grim rider just
spat.

The old man was weary, but,
like his younger companion, unable to do anything but resist his
fatigue and continue ever closer to the small gathering of
whitewashed buildings ahead of them. They had been riding for hours
and had not taken a single break. The horses were lathered up and
in need of water, but Iron Eyes cared little for his animals. He
had the same attitude to horseflesh as the Apache he often
encountered. To him, horses were his slaves, something he used
until they dropped and then he would simply find a replacement.
Unlike the Apache though, he had never chosen to eat any of his
fallen mounts.

‘
What
is your plan, Iron Eyes?’ Pablo asked the tall quiet man who
watched everything with the alertness of an eagle.

‘
To
kill all the bandits and not get wounded,’ Iron Eyes gruffed, as he
jabbed his spurs into his horse once again.

‘
Is
that it?’ The elderly Mexican could hardly believe his ears at the
words which met him.

‘
Yep.’
Iron Eyes pulled his reins to his chest as his acute hearing caught
something on the cool breeze, something which alarmed
him.

‘
What
is wrong,
senor?’
Pablo asked as he stopped his horse alongside his
companion’s mount.

Iron Eyes stood in his
stirrups and listened.

‘
Quiet, old man.’

Pablo sat motionless holding
onto his reins and the tethers to their pack mules. Every pore of
his body ached as he watched the keen instincts of the bounty
hunter searching the very air itself for clues. For a moment, as he
studied the features of his travelling companion, he felt
frightened. There was a look in the thin face which he had never
seen in another living man. It was the look of death.

‘I
figure the bandits must be camped
about south of here, Pablo.’ Iron Eyes pointed with a long finger
across the flat crop-filled plains in the direction of the small
mesa. At first he had only suspected they were holed up there but
now every fiber of his being knew it was a fact.

‘
Are
you sure?’ There was a look of unease etched upon the face of the
old Mexican as he tried in vain to sense what the strange bounty
hunter instinctively knew.

‘I’m
dead sure,’ Iron Eyes held onto his
gun grips as he watched the moonlit horizon. ‘I can smell the
bastards, Pablo. Come on,’ Iron Eyes snarled, sinking his vicious
spurs into the flesh of his horse and charging off towards the
small village. Even in the light of the moon, the figure made a
terrifying image as his long hair and coat tails flapped about at
the back of the galloping horse.

The old man led the mules
steadily after his enraged companion watching the dust which led
into the heart of the small group of white houses. When Pablo
reached his village, the brooding Iron Eyes was sitting on the low
wall of the communal well, drinking from a ladle.

Dismounting slowly, Pablo
felt as if every bone in his ancient body had been
dislodged.

‘
May I
have some water,
senor?’

Iron Eyes handed over the
ladle and stood to stare out across the blue and black scenery
which was bathed in moonlight. He seemed uneasy for the first time
since they had set out from Rio Vista. He appeared troubled by
something the old man could not understand.

‘
What
is it, Iron Eyes?’ Pablo asked, as he swallowed the sweet
water.

‘
I
never figured it would be so flat around here, Pablo.’ Iron Eyes
spat at the ground and pulled out a cigar and bit off its
end.

The valley is very flat. Why
does this trouble you?
’ Pablo poured some water over the crown of his
head and relished the coolness it delivered to his overheated
neck.

‘
I
figured there would be more trees.’ Iron Eyes paced as he soaked up
the lay of the land around them.

‘
I am
not sure what you mean.’ Pablo tried to understand but he was no
killer like his tall lethal friend. His was a life of innocence and
hard work.

Iron Eyes struck a match
and dragged in the smoke hard, as he thought.

‘
This
place will take a lotta protecting without trees,’ Iron Eyes said
through gritted teeth.

‘
But
at least we can see them coming from many miles off, Iron Eyes.’
Pablo waved his hand around at the area before them.

‘
You’re dead right, Pablo.’ Iron Eyes sucked in his smoke
and held it as he nodded. ‘Them bandits ain’t gonna be crawling
when they ride back here. They are gonna be kicking up dust and I
like dust.’

‘You like dust?’

‘Yep.
Gives me something to aim
at.’

‘
Will
we be able to protect ourselves now you are here?’

‘
I
have to plan to make sure I nail these bandits fast, Pablo.’ Iron
Eyes walked back to the elderly man and stared hard into his face.
If I get it wrong, even I ain’t sure if I can stop
them.’

‘
You
can stop them,’ the old voice encouraged.

‘
Maybe.’ Iron Eyes inhaled again and allowed the smoke to
kill the pain within his thin body which had been there since he
had been wounded by the Harper boy. ‘I just had it figured in my
head for there to be a lotta trees around here.’

‘
Why
do you like trees,
senor?’

‘
Trees
are real handy. You can rope them off and lure your prey into a
trap they can’t ride out of easily, Pablo.’ Iron Eyes exhaled a
long line of smoke which seemed to hang in the still night
air.

‘
You
are very smart, my friend,’ Pablo said, as he felt the younger
man’s energy filling his own soul.

‘
How
come you reckon so?’ The bounty hunter gazed at the old Mexican
long and hard with uncharacteristic kindness.

‘
Because you are Iron Eyes,
senor.’

The thin bounty hunter
shrugged, wondering whether he was half as good as this man
thought
he
was. Or maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew this
time.

‘
Tell
me, old man: this gang of bandits must have a leader and he’s gotta
have a name. What is it?’

They call him
Manillo.
’
Pablo shook as he said the name.

‘
Manillo.’ Iron Eyes stared at the glowing tip of his cigar
and blew off the ash. ‘I heard of him. He’s worth a few bucks if my
memory serves me right.’

‘
Beware of this bandit,
senor.
He is evil.’

‘
That’ll make us pretty well matched, Pablo.’ Iron Eyes was
grinning as he turned to face his comrade.

‘
When
do we begin to execute your plan, Iron Eyes?’ Pablo seemed to have
found his second wind when he spoke.

‘
Not
on our own, we ain’t. You had better wake up the village people to
help us unpack these mules, Pablo. I’ve gotta get all the
explosives set before sun up.’ Iron Eyes dragged his feet across
the soil. He had made a line which he was determined would not be
crossed by any of these wretched bandits ever again.

The old man placed a hand
upon the face of the tall man before him and smiled.

‘
Remember,
senor.
You are Iron Eyes.’

‘For
what that’s worth, Pablo.’ Iron Eyes
forced a narrow smile from the corner of his mouth.

‘It
is priceless, my young
friend.’

Iron Eyes felt something he
had never experienced before as he watched the elderly man of
immeasurable spirit walking to the first of the small whitewashed
houses.

For the first time in his
entire life, Iron Eyes felt as if he had a true value. Not a value
like the faces upon the Wanted posters he had hunted all these
years, but something far more important.

Iron Eyes felt he might
just be worth something to these poor people.

As the first rays of the
morning sun raced across the flat landscape of green crops which
encircled the group of white adobes, Iron Eyes sat down and rested
his spine against the corner of the wall of the well.

This was a time to reflect
upon the hours of preparation and wonder if he had done enough.
Iron Eyes had strung saddle ropes around the outlying ground in a
strange web which only he knew how to activate. Bean canes were the
only indication of where these ropes led to and from. Small barrels
filled with black gunpowder were hidden amongst the green crops in
strategic places plus dozens of dynamite sticks with various
lengths of fuse wire attached lay amid the foliage.

Once
stripped of their precious cargo, the
bounty hunter had forced the women and children to mount the mules
and the two horses and ride away into the distant hills with enough
provisions to last them at least three days. Now he had to wait
with only a handful of men behind him.

Unlike himself, these men
knew nothing of fighting let alone killing. They were farmers and
that troubled the narrowed-eyed bounty hunter.

Would they have the desire
to fight?

As he sat beside the well, Iron
Eyes watched the distant mesa for any signs of dust rising. Behind
him he had Pablo and a mere five men. All of them injured by
Manilla
’s
brutality. There were other men but they lay within their homes
unable to help.