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

With the outlaw gangs believing that their enemy Iron Eyes is
dead, there’s nothing that the scattered lawmen can do to stop the
horrific slaughter that follows. Gangs join together to become
small armies and destroy everything in their wake. But one U.S.
marshal is not convinced that the legendary bounty hunter is dead
and sets out to discover the truth.

More dead than alive, Iron Eyes slowly drags himself out of
his desert hiding place in search of water and discovers that the
deadly outlaws think that he is no longer a threat. Checking the
Wanted posters and loading his Navy Colts, Iron Eyes rides with
venom in his soul to claim the bounty money for those wanted dead
or alive. To him, that only means dead!

THE GHOST OF IRON EYES

IRON EYES 8

By Rory Black

First published by Robert Hale Limited in 2005

Copyright
©
2005, 2015 by Rory
Black

First Smashwords Edition: April 2015

Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional,
and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage
and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author,
except where permitted by law.

Cover image © 2015 by Carl Yonder

This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

Series Editor: Ben Bridges ~
Text © Piccadilly Publishing

Published by Arrangement with the Author.

Dedicated to the memory of
the legendary Frank Capra.

Diamond City was like most of
the dust-weary Texan towns that fringed the sprawling Waco. It
lived off the backs of the prosperous cattle ranches which filled
the vast ranges that the Lone Star State was famed for. Yet like
its
neighboring towns of Black Rock and Springville, Diamond
City had fallen prey to the same invasion of outlaw gangs that had
been causing havoc for the previous six months.

John Hardy stood on the porch
of his weathered
sheriff’s office and stared into the grim dust haze that
had dogged the town for more than a week. His elderly hands
clutched the scattergun to his belly as his narrowed eyes watched
the awesome sight of thirteen well-armed riders guiding their
lathered-up mounts slowly along Main Street.

The sheriff used his thumb to
pull
back
both hammers of his huge buckshot-filled weapon. He felt his throat
tighten as they continued to approach him.

In the thirty years he had
been the elected law in Diamond City, Hardy had never seen so many
long riders together in one intimidating group before. As the dust
cleared slightly, his eyes focused on the unshaven faces of the
emotionless horsemen.

It was like looking at the
stack of wanted posters he had in his desk drawer. Every one of the
men was known to him and yet he knew that the
baker
’s
dozen was made up of men from at least five gangs.

He looked long and hard at the
distinctive gunslinger at the head of the riders. It was Henry
Jardine, a man who had plied his evil trade for almost as many
years as the sheriff had defended the law. To
Jardine
’s
right rode Luther Cole. Cole was a bald man who never wore a hat.
Other members of Jardine’s gang were missing. Hardy wondered if
they had been killed by men who wore stars on their vests such as
he.

Then the sheriff noted the
three Darrow brothers. Toke, Fern and Jade were a rugged trio of
Missouri bank-robbers who had earned their reputation of being less
than human.

John Hardy
’s eyes darted to Skeet Bodine
and ‘Doc’ Weatherspoon who trailed the Darrow siblings. They too
had once had their own gang and he found it strange that they would
ride with either Jardine or the Darrows. Yet there they were in all
their dust-caked glory. Defiantly steering their horses straight
down the center of the street towards him.

Rufus
‘Red’ Clayton and his cousins Jonah
Clayton and ‘Snake’ Billow were to the left of Bodine.

‘
Pop’
Lomax, Saul Bass and Clay Moore followed the rest of the horsemen,
silently watching the town’s inhabitants disappearing at the sight
of such unwelcome visitors. Lomax looked like a man who ought to be
smoking a pipe, sitting in a rocking chair. His white bushy beard
gave no clue to the deadliness he had in either of his hands. Lomax
was one man who, it was said, could outdraw even Jesse James.
Whether true or just myth, few had ever lived long after trying
their luck against the lethal gunman.

Thirteen riders. The
remnants of five gangs. Each as brutal as the others. How had they
all hooked up together, the sheriff wondered. He doubted if he
would ever find out.

Hardy eased the scattergun
away from his body and aimed the double barrels in the direction of
the men whom he knew were here for only one thing. They had come to
strip his town bare of everything it had.

The experienced lawman also
knew that men like these would kill anyone or anything in order to
achieve this goal.

Hardy stepped down on to the
bleached dust and rested the wooden stock of his scattergun on his
hip as he faced the riders.

‘
Rein
in, boys!’ the sheriff ordered.

To his surprise, the
thirteen outlaws pulled back on their leathers and stopped their
mounts twenty feet away from him.

‘
Ya
got a problem, Sheriff?’ Jardine asked as he eased himself up off
his saddle and balanced in his stirrups.

‘
There
ain’t no room in this town for vermin, Jardine!’ the lawman replied
firmly.

Jardine smiled and then
lowered himself back down on to his saddle.

‘
But
we’re only passing through. Ain’t we got the right to stop and have
us a drink and get provisions?’

‘
Nope!’ Hardy gripped the barrel of his weapon with his
sweating left hand as his right index finger gently stroked the
twin triggers. ‘Diamond City ain’t got nothing for your sort. I
suggest you turn them nags around and keep riding.’

‘
You
wanna die, old man?’ Toke Darrow snarled. “Coz I’m always willing
to oblige.’

‘
Ease
up, Toke,’ Jardine said, waving his gloved left hand at the furious
outlaw. ‘The sheriff here is only doin’ his job. He don’t mean
nothin’.’

‘
I’m
serious, Jardine!’ Hardy insisted. ‘I’ll kill any one of you
critters that even looks like he’s going for his
weapon.’

Henry
Jardine
’s
grin widened. He liked a man with spirit.

‘
I’ve
never been a man to argue with a cocked scattergun, Sheriff.
Trouble is, my fellow riders are dry and hungry. Men can get a tad
ornery when their bellies are empty and they got cactus growing on
their tongues. I’d ask you again. Let us get a drink and some
provisions and we’ll not kill ya.’

Hardy glanced around the
faces of the men who were staring down at him. For the first time
since he first pinned a star to his vest, he felt fear overwhelming
him. He stepped back and swallowed hard.

‘
I
reckon I must be loco, but OK! Go get a drink and some grub. But I
want you out of my town by sundown.’

The rest of the outlaws all
began to chuckle at exactly the same time as their gloved hands
turned the heads of their horses away from the lawman.

Jardine touched the brim of
his hat as he watched the scattergun being lowered.

‘
You
gotta deal,’ the outlaw said. He jabbed his spurs into the flesh of
his tired horse.

Sheriff John Hardy could not
stop himself shaking as the thirteen horsemen steered their mounts
away from his office and headed toward the three saloons opposite.
Sweat ran like water down his face as he made his way toward the
telegraph office. He knew that he needed help and it was doubtful
that he would find it anywhere within the boundaries of Diamond
City. There was no Texas Ranger outpost within a
week
’s ride,
so he would have to try and enlist the assistance of someone
closer.

He had to send a wire to
Waco and the marshal there.

The
sheriff stepped up on to the
boardwalk into the shade and placed his soaked palm on the
telegraph-office door-handle. He was about to turn it when he saw
the reflection of Henry Jardine in the glass panes. The outlaw was
standing beside his tall horse watching the sheriff. Jardine was no
fool and knew exactly what was in the mind of the
lawman.

Reluctantly, John Hardy slowly
turned and looked across the distance between them. It was obvious
by the expression on the outlaw
’s face what Jardine was
thinking.

Then Hardy realized that
Jardine had pushed his long trail-coat over the grip of his Colt.
He had already removed his gloves and was flexing the fingers above
the deadly weapon. He went to raise the barrels of his scattergun
when he saw the outlaw
’s right hand move.

That was the last thing
Hardy ever saw.

The deafening sound of the
single shot came a split second after the bullet went through his
heart. Even before his limp body fell forward and crashed
face
first
on to the boardwalk, Jardine had holstered his smoking weapon and
turned to enter the saloon with his twelve companions.

‘
Damn
good shot, Henry!’ Pop Lomax noted.

‘
Yep.
I’m always better at distance-killing, Pop.’ Jardine
nodded.

‘
Now
do we rob the bank?’ Toke Darrow asked.

‘
We
got plenty of time.’ Jardine grinned. ‘Diamond City is ours now and
that bank ain’t going no place!’

Along the street net curtains
moved nervously, but not one person ventured out to get a better
look at the body of their solitary defender as blood poured out
from the small hole in the
center of Hardy’s broad chest.

The residents of Diamond City
were as nosy as most other people in similar settlements, but they
knew that they would meet the town
’s uninvited guests soon
enough.

None of them wished to
encounter them a moment earlier than necessary.

~*~

A million shadows had traced
their way through the maze of remote Texan canyons as the
blindingly hot sun continued to beat down on the ragged
sand-
colored
mountain peaks. It had been the better part of nine months since
anyone had set eyes upon the thin emaciated creature who had sought
refuge and sanctuary in their dusty canyons, to allow his wounds to
mend.

To most of those who had
last seen his burned and bloodied body as it rode slumped across
the saddle horn of his trusty mount, it seemed impossible even to
imagine that he could have survived.