Iron Eyes Must Die (6 page)

‘
Good!
I knew that they were no better than the rest of us.’ Adams
laughed. ‘Them passengers probably won’t even notice when we takes
this train on out of this godforsaken place without them being on
it.’

‘
Ya
right, Snake,’ Harris agreed, pointing at the saloon. ‘Them
galloots are drinkin’ that saloon dry. I never seen such drinkin’
in all my days. They’ll not even remember they was on a train in
the first place, I’ll bet.’

Adams grinned and checked his guns.

‘
C’mon! We’ve got us a big old train to steal!’

Exhaustion had overwhelmed the gaunt and
wounded bounty hunter as he wearily looked out from the narrow gap
in the livery-stable loft door down into the street at the growing
excitement. In less than ten minutes the streets beyond the corral
had gone from being empty to being filled with dozens of heavily
armed men. Iron Eyes raised the whiskey bottle and poured some of
the liquid over the bullet hole. Even though the pain was more than
most men could have handled, he did not even blink.

His eyes continued to stare down from his
high vantage point at the men who now had a real reason to string
him up from the nearest tree. The deputies seemed to have had no
problem in finding others to join their search for the man who had
killed the sheriff.

Iron Eyes watched them as they scurried
around like headless chickens. They had lost their leader and now
were all trying to work out what they ought to do next. Only one
thing was certain: it was obvious that they would kill him on
sight.

He knew that killing lawmen was always a bad
move.

Iron Eyes poured another mouthful of whiskey
over his wound before he covered his bleeding body with hay and
buried himself in the corner of the high hay-loft.

Every few moments he fell asleep and then
awoke with a nervous jolt. His eyes stared out from the hay where
he rested. He knew that he needed sleep badly if he were ever to
regain enough strength to flee this town.

But with every beat of his
pounding heart, he could hear the deputies and others below him.
Their voices were raised as their anger grew like a cancer inside
them. Vengeance was a dangerous sin to toy with. Iron Eyes had
given
too
many well-armed men a belly fall of it to chew on.

His life was not worth a plug nickel, and he
knew it. Yet the bounty hunter was too weak even to care. He had
ridden with death as his constant companion for far too long to
have any fear of it. Death was the only certainty in a life as hard
and brutal as his, but he did not wish death to claim him before he
was truly ready.

He rolled on to his face and looked down
between the wooden boards at the stables below.

The deputies knew that his Indian pony was
still tethered in the stable. That meant Iron Eyes would either
have to come to collect it or he would have to steal another mount
in the town.

Iron Eyes continued to stare
between the boards. He could see two of the deputies near the large
open doorway, bathed in sunlight. They were talking, but he could
not hear a word above the sound of the restless horses. The
two
lawmen
nodded to each other., then one walked back towards the street
whilst the other remained in the stables.

They were going to try and set a crude trap,
Iron Eyes thought. He watched as the deputy drew out his gun and
then walked into an empty stall veiled in shadow. The man managed
to make himself comfortable in the blackness.

Iron Eyes knew that the rest of the armed men
were leaving a deputy inside the livery stables to wait for him to
come back for his Indian pony. He raised his head a few inches and
again glanced through the narrow gap in the loft doors.

He watched as the men split up into three
groups and headed off in different directions. Iron Eyes sighed
with relief and rested his head on his outstretched arm.

At least there was not a
tracker amongst them, he thought. He had left a trail of blood
halfway across Rio Concho that led right to where he was
lying. If any one
of those armed men in the street had ever ventured out from their
safe community into the deadly landscapes which he had explored
over the years, they’d have known how to hunt their
prey.

He had hunted all his life. He had learned
how to track and trap game for the pot almost before he had learned
to speak. He had become the most deadly of souls over the years.
Not because he had wanted to kill, but because that was the only
way someone brought up in the wilderness survived.

It was always kill or be killed.

He had learned very quickly after he had
first encountered white men that it was more profitable to kill
wanted men than animals. It had been a natural progression for a
creature such as himself.

He sighed again.

Not one of those men knew the
first thing about hunting another living creature.
For that, he was
grateful!

Pain ripped through him again.
He touched the bullet hole and then stared at the red fingertips.
He was losing far too much blood but had no way of stopping the
bleeding without drawing attention to himself. He knew that if he
were to burn the wound it would stop pumping his
life
’s blood
out of his painfully thin body. There was no fire up here in the
hay loft for him to use.

His mind drifted back to the face of the
sheriff as he had staggered towards him a few seconds before the
lawman had realized he was dead. Iron Eyes wondered if the words he
had spoken before being shot were true.

Was there really a bounty on his head?

Had the outlaws finally turned the tables on
him?

Iron Eyes tried to think of a
way he might escape this town alive. The more he thought, the fewer
options came to him. He was still somehow alive, but
still trapped just
as he had been in the jail.

At least there were no iron bars here to
taunt his injured spirit, he silently told himself.

He still had a small chance of survival. The
hanging judge would not be able to pass judgment on him here and
have him dragged helplessly to the nearest tree with a high broad
branch.

If they caught up with him here, he would
fight!

Only death would drag his bleeding body from
this fragile sanctuary, he concluded. They would taste the fury of
his Navy Colts as so many others had done over the years.

He would not die alone!

If he was headed to Hell,
he
’d be
taking company. A whole lot of company.

Iron Eyes dropped his head back
on to his
coat sleeve and licked his dry cracked lips. There was only
one way to get out of this town and that was on horseback, he told
himself.

There was no other way of escaping Rio
Concho!

Iron Eyes finished the whiskey and then
closed his eyes. This time he would sleep.

The gleaming wheels screeched.
Sparks flew out in all directions as metal skidded across metal.
The driver held on to the heavy metal lever and slowed the massive
locomotive. Herb Snape and his engineer Ty Flynn had obeyed every
command that had been shouted into their ears since the five armed
men had boarded the train back at Deadman
’s Flats.

The cold steel barrels of the cocked Colt
.45s which pressed into the nape of their necks were other good
reasons to listen. For men like outlaw Snake Adams never liked to
repeat themselves.

Their trigger fingers were far too itchy for
that.

‘
That’s right!’ Adams breathed into Snape’s neck. ‘Stop the
train along here!’

‘
Here?’ the anxious train driver muttered.

‘
Yep!
See them two riders with the string of horses?’

‘
I see
’em OK!’

‘
Stop
when this old loco is level with them!’

‘
No
problem, mister!’ Herb Snape gulped. ‘You’re the boss. I’ll get as
close to them
hombres
as you want.’

A multitude of steam jets
seemed to spit from behind the locomotive
’s gleaming wheels as Brewster and
Mayne showed themselves at the mouth of the narrow gulch. The two
riders had the five other horses tied securely to their saddle
cantles.

The driver had been as good as his word. He
managed to stop the huge locomotive within inches of where Adams
had indicated.

The two horsemen silently
acknowledged the nods of their five companions as Snake Adams
forced the two men down from the high engineer
’s platform on to the dusty
ground.

Adams dropped down on to the
soft sand, poked the barrel of his gun into
the engineer’s belly and waited
for Lynch and Parker to escort the rest of the train’s crew from
the passenger cars.

‘
What
do you want of us exactly, mister?’ the sweat-soaked engineer asked
fearfully. ‘What’s all this about?’

‘
Hush
up and you’ll live longer!’ Adams said, his eyes narrowed. ‘It
don’t pay to get too nosy. I’ve heard it can reduce a man’s life
considerably.’

‘
We
ain’t carrying no gold or nothin’, mister! Honest!’ the stoker
snapped. ‘If ya holding up this train, you’ll go away
empty-handed!’

Adams lowered his head, then
swung his gun hand with every ounce of his strength. He smashed the
barrel of his weapon across the stoker
’s face. Ty Flynn’s neck almost
snapped as his head was violently struck. Blood and teeth hit the
largest of the train’s wheels before the man fell unconscious into
the sand.

‘
Reckon that dumb ox didn’t quite understand me when I said
for you guys not to ask any more questions.’

The engineer was about to speak when he felt
the gun return to his middle. He sucked in air and swallowed
hard.

‘
Stop
shaking! He ain’t dead!’ Adams snorted. ‘But it don’t matter none
to me if we have to kill all of you. My boy Buck there wants to
kill everyone he meets. I only have to snap my fingers and it’ll
happen. Savvy?’

The engineer nodded.

‘
We
gonna kill these varmints, Snake?’ Buck Harris asked as he jumped
down from the closest passenger car. ‘C’mon! Let me kill
someone!’

Adams stared at his bloodthirsty
companion.

‘
Maybe
later! You keep ya guns on them.’

Harris smiled. It was the smile
of a man who liked nothing better than killing. He had killed all
sorts of people in his time. Men, women and children of every
known
color
and creed. It had become a thirst which could never be quenched. An
addiction which could never be satisfied.

‘
Get
here, Coop!’ Adams shouted at Coop Starr. Starr had been an
explosives expert years earlier when the railroad companies had
wanted mountains removed so they could lay their tracks on level
ground wherever possible. His skill with dynamite had proved
invaluable to Adams over the years. There had never been a bank or
safe that Starr could not get into.

‘
You
figurin’ on letting me blow the door off that end car, Snake?’
Starr asked with a glint in his eyes.

‘
Only
if the guard inside it don’t open up peaceable like.’ Adams
replied.

Both outlaws walked the entire length of the
locomotive at a brisk pace. Both were eager to get there, each for
a very different reason. They did not slow up until they reached
the last of the cars.

The outlaw leader reached up and hammered on
the green sliding door with the grip of his gun.

‘
Open
up or we’ll surely kill your pals out here, boy!’ Adams yelled at
the locked door. ‘Open up now and we’ll spare ya miserable
hide.’

A muffled voice came from inside the car.

‘
Who
are ya?’

Snake Adams looked at Starr and raised his
eyebrows. He could not believe his ears.

‘
I’m
the loco bastard that’ll kill the rest of the folks workin’ on this
train if you don’t unlock this damn door! Open up!’

‘
I’m
armed!’ the voice shouted out defiantly. ‘I got me a scattergun and
plenty of shells. You try and get in here and I’ll blow you all to
hell!’

Adams rubbed his chin and turned away from
the car.

‘
We
got us a plucky little rooster in there, Coop.’

‘
I
could use a stick or two of dynamite to encourage him to open that
door, Snake,’ Coop said.

‘
No,
not just yet.’ Adams took a few steps and waved his arm at Parker.
‘Get that engineer down here, boys.’

Kyle Parker grabbed the neck of the engineer
and hauled him away from his unconscious stoker and the conductors.
He pushed him along the length of train until he was standing
before Adams.

‘
W . .
. what you want of me?’ the terrified driver stammered.

‘
You
know the guard inside there?’ Adams asked.

The driver nodded hard.

‘
Sure
do. His name’s John Parsons. He’s a stubborn little critter and no
mistake. Nobody likes him. He’s a real company man. You know the
sort?’