The Ghost of Iron Eyes (An Iron Eyes Western Book 8) (6 page)

‘
I’m
scared, Marshal Clark!’ he admitted.

Clark glanced at the
youngest member of his small troop of riders.

‘
I’m
scared too, son! Damn scared!’

Then a deafening noise
filled their ears.

It was the sound of a
scattergun letting both barrels spew out their venom. The blinding
flash of unexpected light caught each of the riders by surprise.
Terrified horses reared up as the full power of the lethal buckshot
hit the youngest deputy squarely.

As Bobby Smith was torn to
shreds by the lead shot that hit him off his saddle, Lane Clark
managed to somehow steady his own mount. Before the
deputy
’s
body had hit the ground, Clark had hauled his Colt from its holster
and returned fire three times in the direction of the telltale
gunsmoke.

There was a muffled groan as
their attacker stumbled forward from the shadows and crashed to the
ground.

The marshal swiftly threw
himself from his saddle and landed next to what was left of his
youngest deputy. He did not bother to check the body. He had seen
too many dead men in his time not to recognize someone who was
already on his way to his Maker.

Blood had splattered the
tightly grouped lawmen. They all dropped to the ground with their
weapons drawn. But there was no one left to shoot at. Lane Clark
had killed the only person left in the once flourishing
settlement.

Clark walked slowly through the
eerie light
until he was above the dead woman who was still clutching
the smoking twin-barreled shotgun in her frail hands.

‘
A
woman?’ Clark muttered as if questioning his own eyes. ‘In all my
days, I ain’t ever killed no female before.’

Drake, Hail and Ripley ran
to his side and stared down at the pitiful creature lying in the
rays of the moon.

‘
I
should have looked before I fired.’ The marshal frowned at his
handiwork.

Tom Ripley turned away and
stared around the rest of the bodies scattered all about
them.

‘
Don’t
punish yourself, Lane. You wouldn’t have fired that hogleg if she
hadn’t have killed young Bobby.’

‘
But
what in tarnation would a woman want to kill Bobby for, Lane?’ Col
Drake asked.

‘
It
could have been any of us, Col,’ Hail muttered. ‘Bobby was just in
the line of fire.’

‘
She
must have been half loco.’ Lane Clark sighed. He slid his gun back
into its hand-tooled holster. ‘She seen everyone she ever knew
slaughtered and somehow survived the carnage. Then we come riding
in after sundown and her confused mind must have thought we were
the same gang of outlaws come back for more killing. She just
opened up. Bobby just drew the short straw, that’s all.’

‘
I
don’t like this, Lane,’ Ripley admitted. ‘I don’t see no good
coming out of us poking our noses in this cesspit. This ain’t the
kinda job we’ve been trained to do. Not hunting down a whole pack
of bloodthirsty varmints who can do this sorta thing.’

The marshal glanced at
Ripley.

‘
I
just killed an old woman, Tom. A loco old woman who probably never
done no harm to anyone in her entire life. That ain’t right. That’s
chewing at my craw. But it’s Henry Jardine and his men who killed
the rest of the folks in this town. I reckon that if we ride into
every other town between here and Diamond City, we’ll find a whole
lot more senseless killings. You want to turn away from this and
run back to Waco? Or do you wanna ride with me and try and stop
this?’

Ripley looked back at the
body of Bobby Smith lying in the moonlight beside their skittish
horses.

‘
I
ain’t scared to admit it, I don’t cotton to facing Jardine and his
vermin, Lane.’

Clark nodded.

‘
Me
neither, Tom. But how many times over the years have we done just
that? We’re Texans, son. When something’s wrong, we have to do our
best to make it right.’

Ripley knew that he would
never abandon the marshal with whom he had ridden for more than a
decade. The deputy shrugged and gritted his teeth.

‘
Damn
you, Lane. You always know how to wave that flag under my nose and
make me throw caution to the wind. I’ll ride with you wherever the
trail leads. But it don’t feel right.’

‘
It
never does, boy.’ Clark rubbed the grime from his face and then
realized that some of Bobby Smith’s gore was mixed in with the
trail dust.

Col Drake exhaled
loudly.

‘
Them
outlaws must be kill-crazy, Lane. We ain’t no match for them kinda
bastards.’

‘
We
can’t take them critters on, Marshal. We just ain’t good enough.’
Hall shuddered as the prospect of confronting the infamous dregs of
so many vicious gangs dawned on him. ‘They’ll do the same to us
that they done to all these poor folks.’

Lane Clark nodded in
agreement.

‘
You’re all right. But I don’t intend for us to head
straight for Diamond City just yet, boys. I ain’t fixin’ to try and
round up that bunch of misfits. Not without help,
anyways.’

‘
Then
what?’ Drake asked.

‘
We’re
heading north from here to Devil’s Canyon. Straight up through them
crags,’ Clark replied. He strode back towards their mounts and
packhorses. ‘I intend finding Iron Eyes before I do anything else.
I’ve seen that varmint take on entire towns on his lonesome and be
the only man standing when the gunsmoke cleared.’

‘
What
if Iron Eyes is actually dead, Lane?’ Drake whispered into Clark’s
ear. ‘We need somebody alive, not no damn ghost.’

‘
I’ll
cross that bridge when we comes to it, Col,’ came the firm reply.
The marshal stepped into his stirrup and hoisted himself atop his
stallion. ‘Besides, I just killed me an innocent female and the
blame for that lies at Henry Jar-dine’s feet! He’s gonna pay.
They’re all gonna pay!’

Tom Ripley touched
Clark
’s left
leg.

‘
Ain’t
we buryin’ Bobby, Lane?’ he asked. ‘It don’t seem right to leave
him here for the buzzards.’

The marshal shook his head
sorrowfully.

‘
There
ain’t enough left of the young ‘un to bury, Tom. Look at him, son.
C’mon, we gotta ride and get the smell of this damn town out of our
noses.’

The deputies mounted and led
their
pack
animals out of Porter’s Bluff. They spurred hard and headed north
into the crags.

Each of the riders silently
wondered if the man they sought was in Devil
’s Canyon and if so, was he
still alive?

Or were they on a
fool
’s
errand, seeking nothing more than the ghost of Iron
Eyes?

The sun had grown hotter and
hotter with every passing moment since it had first emerged above
the distant mesas to announce the start of yet another torturous
day. As both the hands of Theo Newton
’s golden half-hunter pocket-watch reached
the twelve on its dial, the merciless hot orb was directly
overhead. All the men and horses were soaked in their own sweat as
they continued to travel deeper into the parched unnamed land they
all knew to be an Apache stronghold. It was said that the only
people who could survive in this deadly terrain were the
Apache.

For they could find food and
water where no other Indian tribes could. All attempts to break
their spirit had failed.

Few chose to travel this
dangerous course, but this was the shortest route between Apache
Wells and Waco. When
time was at a premium, even sane men took risks
and were willing to make the ultimate gamble.

So it was with Colonel
Caufield Cotter and his men.

There was an urgency in the
troop of fifty Texas Rangers who blazed a trail across the desolate
prairie that was above and beyond the call of duty. These were men
who defied the dangers that most would have shied away from. To a
man, they had volunteered to follow the famed Colonel Caufield
Cotter who, as always, rode at the head of the Apache Wells troop
of Texas Rangers.

Most of the horsemen knew
that they were riding with a living legend. A man who always led by
example and had never once sent his Rangers into a place where he
was not willing to go himself.

Some of their number, however,
wondered if so many years sitting behind a desk might have taken
the edge off Cotter
’s once shrewd judgment. But none had even questioned the
reasons behind his asking them to risk their lives and follow him
to the distant Waco.

The long line of riders led
a supply wagon filled with provisions and boxes of extra
ammunition. Cotter had ensured they as well prepared as any of his
earlier campaigns. They had left their Apache Wells outpost far
behind them, and for the first time in its history, it was
deserted.

Colonel Cotter drove his
white charger at breakneck pace across the arid landscape, like a
man possessed by demons. It was as if he had forgotten those who
rode behind him and were trying to keep up. It troubled his second
in command.

Lieutenant Theo Newton wondered
if Cotter might just be trying too hard to prove himself to the far
younger Texas Rangers behind them. Or was this how the old
campaigner had always done it? Newton had never before ridden into
possible action with Cotter. By the time he had joined the ranks
of
the
famous Texas Rangers, the colonel’s days of glory had already
passed into history.

Using every ounce of his
strength, Newton managed to force his own mount to catch up with
the magnificent white horse and its straight-backed
master.

‘
Colonel! The men need a break, sir,’ Newton called out at
the stone-featured Cotter who appeared like a statue perched on his
saddle. ‘They need to water their horses and eat.’

Cotter
’s turned his head. His hooded eyes
glanced at the horseman beside him.

‘
We’ve
still a long way to go, Theo.’

‘
I
know.’ Newton nodded. His gloved hands clutched on to his reins as
the mane of his horse flapped like the wings of an eagle into his
chest. ‘But the men’s horses are spent. I think we ought to
stop.’

Cotter rose up until he was
balanced in his stirrups. He looked over his shoulder through the
dust cloud kicked
up by their mounts’ hoofs. The troopers and the wagon were
valiantly attempting to keep pace with their leader, but failing
miserably. He eased back on his reins and felt the powerful animal
beneath him slow its pace.

‘
Once
again you are correct, Theo,’ Cotter admitted as their horses came
to a halt. ‘I had forgotten the excitement that riding my charger
can bring me. I apologize for my total lack of consideration. Tell
the men we shall have at least an hour’s rest. They can feed and
water the animals and then get Cookie to rustle up some hot food.
Men need their bellies full.’

Newton turned his own mount
full circle and watched as the rest of the troop drew up behind the
white charger. Before he could speak again something caught his eye
from the line of distant mesas to the east. It was a sight that
chilled him to the bone. A sight that he had encountered twice
before in his short but eventful life.

‘
Look,
Colonel.’ He pointed. ‘Is that smoke?’

Without the slightest hint
of emotion, Cotter reached for his binoculars and raised them to
his eyes. He adjusted the focus until he could clearly see the thin
line of smoke rising into the blue cloudless sky. He scanned the
rest of the mesas with the powerful lenses until he spotted another
trail of smoke making its way heavenward. Cotter knew that he and
his forty-nine followers had been spotted by the Apache. Soon the
smoke signals would inform every Indian within a hundred miles of
them. The colonel returned the binoculars back to his saddlebags
without comment.

‘
Sir?’
Newton urged his superior officer to confirm his assumption. ‘Is it
smoke signals?’

The colonel
nodded.

‘
Yes,
we’ve been spotted, but there is no need to worry the men just yet.
Those Apaches are still a long way off. You have your orders,
Lieutenant. The men and horses require refreshment. Ensure they get
it.’

Newton saluted in
affirmation.

‘
Yes,
sir.’

The sound of the Winchester
being repeatedly cocked and fired rang out around Diamond City
until its smoking magazine was empty. As the acrid gunsmoke
cleared, the dozen or more bodies were revealed to the eyes of the
terrified females who had been gathered together by the outlaws. No
sooner had the deafening sound of the rifles being fired stopped
ringing in the ears of the impassive gang members than the
screaming started. It was the most chilling of noises.