The Ghost of Iron Eyes (An Iron Eyes Western Book 8) (3 page)

‘
Iron
Eyes!’ Clark muttered, placing his cup on the desk.

‘
He’s
dead! He got himself butchered up north by Apaches.’

The marshal rested the palms
of his hands on the edge of the desk and stared at the pile of
telegraph messages on his ink-blotter.

‘
Maybe
he is dead and maybe he ain’t!’

The deputy inhaled the
coffee steam.

‘
Them
outlaws must sure think he is dead by the way they’re runnin’
riot.’

Clark raised a
smile.

‘
Round
up the rest of the deputies, Col. We’re takin’ us a ride! I reckon
we can track Iron Eyes down and get him to help us once he knows
how much bounty is on them outlaws’ heads!’

‘
Where
we headed?’

‘
To
wherever Iron Eyes is! If he is still alive, we have to get him
back here to put the fear of purgatory into them
outlaws.’

‘
What
if he is really dead?’

‘
Then
we’re in for a mighty hot ride,’ Clark replied. ‘That is if he’s
gone where I think he’s gone.’

Shoulder to shoulder, the
lawmen left the office.

The imposing stone edifice
stood at the very
center of the large town of Waco. Within its marble-lined
walls, men with dubious pasts sat in council over the thousands of
less grand buildings. They had the power and the wealth, but none
of them had the grit it had taken to forge Texas out of the
wilderness it had once been. It took men of a different breed to
create a land where pride could flourish. Men with courage and
faith in their own abilities had created Texas. The men within the
City Hall were just those who came later with their cunning and
ability to raise taxes. Mayor Sherman Stokes glanced around his
wood-paneled office at the grim faces of his council officials.
They had all listened intently to the words from United States
Federal Marshal Lane Clark as he stood before them with his four
deputies, Col Drake, Pete Hall, Tom Ripley and Bobby Smith. Clark
was asking for money and that was the one thing these creatures
hated to part with, unless there were electoral votes to be
purchased.

Stokes leaned back against the
high-back padded leather chair and tapped a pencil against his
teeth. It was an annoying habit
favored by those too scared to suck on
cigars or pipes.

‘
You
actually want me to pay for this little adventure, Marshal Clark?’
he asked. ‘You wish me to use council funds for you to go off and
search for a stinking bounty hunter?’

The marshal stepped forward
and rested his knuckles on the ink-blotter. He inhaled as if trying
to control his temper and then spoke again.

‘
Listen to me, Sherman,’ he started. ‘I got me enough
telegraph messages in my office to wallpaper a whorehouse. I’m
telling you that if this trouble ain’t stemmed now, it’ll spread
into Waco.

Once them outlaws mix with our
own vermin, it means we
’ll never again be able to walk down a street
without risking being back-shot!’

The mayor continued to stare
into the weathered features of the man he knew was not one to
exaggerate, like his fellow politicians or himself. But Stokes was
a man who knew that he had to protect his own reputation if he were
to get re-elected in the fall. It was always a delicate balance
juggling what had to be done against what would look good in the
eyes of the voters of Waco.

‘
You
want us to pay for this?’ Stokes repeated.

‘
I
sure do. We’ll need pack-animals and provisions to cover the ground
between here and Devil’s Canyon and back again.’ Clark sighed. ‘I
intend taking enough grub and ammunition to tackle them outlaws. If
n we locate Iron Eyes and he’s fit, I’m sure this job won’t last
too long.’

‘
Who
is this Iron Eyes character you keep talking about, Clark?’ Stokes
leaned forward and looked at the shooting-rig that was strapped
around the marshal’s waist. It was proof if anyone required it that
this lawman was probably the best he or any of his fellow
councilors had ever seen. ‘This seems like a wild-goose chase to
me. By your own admission, the man is most likely dead. I simply do
not understand why you do not sort this problem out yourself. You
have four fine deputies here. Use them.’

Lane Clark straightened up
and ran a finger across his drooping moustache.

‘
How
long do you think these boys will remain deputies once we ride into
Diamond City?’

‘
Are
you trying to imply they are cowards?’ Stokes was playing politics.
It was something that was not advised with a hardened lawman such
as Clark.

The marshal looked at the
faces of his men. They were not cowards but they were not suicidal
either. He smiled and nodded at them before turning back to the
mayor.

Faster than any of the
assembled gathering could blink, Lane Clark reached across the desk
and grabbed Sherman Stokes
’s coat lapels. He hauled the mayor out of his
chair and across the desk in one fluid movement.

Lane Clark looked into the
terrified eyes.

‘
Quit
trying to win votes, Sherman,’ the marshal whispered. ‘I ain’t one
to vote for anyone. Just think how you’ll look when them outlaws
come riding into your precious town. How long do you think you’ll
remain in office then? Henry Jardine and his followers would head
straight here and what they’d do to you all wouldn’t be pretty. Is
that what you want?’

Stokes fell back on to his
chair when the marshal released his grip. A look of shock and
horror filled his face as he loosened his collar and tried to
reclaim his dignity. The words of warning sank in
quickly.

‘
I
could have you arrested, Lane!’ he flustered.

Clark grinned.

‘
I
ain’t gonna lose no sleep over that, Sherman. I just want you to
sign me a chit for our expenses so we can try and find Iron
Eyes.’

‘
Who
is he? I don’t understand why you hold so much faith in this
character.’

‘
He’s
the one critter that fills the hearts of outlaws and lawmen alike
with terror!’ Clark explained. ‘I met the bastard once and he
scared me. They say he ain’t like normal folks and it’s true. He’s
a monster but he knows how to kill.’

Sherman Stokes raised both
eyebrows at the marshal
’s stark description.

‘
You
were actually scared of this bounty hunter, Lane?’

‘
Yep,
I was scared. I seen him drag two outlaws’ bodies into my office
ten years back. Four shots in the head put an end to them outlaws’
misery and careers. Dead or alive only means dead to Iron Eyes.
Once on a man’s trail, he’ll never quit until he has them
dead.’

Stokes cleared his
throat.

‘
Ain’t
he also dead? I heard that the Apache killed him.’

‘
I
wired and asked the two Texas Rangers who were the last to set eyes
on him, Sherman. They said he was a real mess. Snake-bit and
burned. But they also said he rode off into the desert towards
Devil’s Canyon. I got me a feeling that he’s like a wounded animal
and gone to ground until he’s mended.’

Stokes exhaled and
stood.

‘
What
if he is dead? How will that help you against the outlaw
gangs?’

Lane Clark watched as the mayor
signed the sheet of paper that would at least allow them to get
enough supplies to reach the remote Devil
’s Canyon.

‘
Even
the ghost of Iron Eyes will put fear into the hearts of them outlaw
gangs, Sherman. Maybe enough fear for me and my boys to get the
better of them.’

Stokes handed the paper to
the marshal.

‘
I
hope you’re right, Lane.’

Clark turned and started to
usher his deputies out of the mayor
’s office.

‘
If I
ain’t, you’ll probably never see any of us again,
Sherman.’

The sound of the door being
closed echoed around the large room. None of the men inside the
mayor
’s
office said a word. They just listened to the sound of the five
men’s spurs as they headed along the marble-lined corridor towards
the sun-drenched street.

Diamond City had been as quiet
as the grave since the sound of the single shot from Henry
Jardine
’s
gun had echoed around its wooden buildings earlier that day. Apart
from growing numbers of flies seeking out the body of Sheriff
Hardy, there had been no one courageous enough to venture out on to
the boardwalks.

‘
Reckon the telegraph man has woken up yet, Henry?’ Saul
Bass asked as he drained the last drop of froth from his
beer-glass. ‘You hit him kinda hard.’

Jardine toyed with the
ashtray before him.
He did not look at Bass. His attention was on the street as the
shadows lengthened.

‘
I
figure he might be awake around now.’

‘
Did
he get his message out?’

‘
Some
of it. When he wakes up, he ain’t gonna do no more talking on them
wires. Not after what me and Luther did to his equipment,’ Jardine
muttered.

‘
And
what I done to his hands,’ Luther Cole added.

‘
What
ya do to his hands?’ a curious Doc Weatherspoon asked from the
long, wet, bar-counter.

‘
I
chopped off his fingers, Doc!’ Cole boasted.

‘
All
of ’em?’ Rufus Clayton asked.

‘
I
sure did. Look!’ Luther Cole placed his whiskey-bottle on the bar,
searched his deep coat-pockets, hauled out the blood-covered
fingers and spread them out.

‘
I
count only nine,’ Weatherspoon said, sipping at his
drink.

‘
I
reckon he must have only had nine fingers to start with.’ Cole
shrugged.

‘
Unless you lost one.’ Toke Darrow nodded.

If the trio of saloons had
bartenders, they had disappeared long before the
thirteen outlaws
had stridden into them. Jardine had watched his fellow outlaws
drink all afternoon without once touching a drop of liquor
himself.

His attention was solely for
the bank opposite. Yet, for the first time in his long career, he
did not have any desire simply to rob it. He had a much grander
plan hatching in his fertile imagination.

‘
Do
you reckon we’ll be robbing that bank any time soon, Henry?’ Luther
Cole asked, pulling up a chair. He placed his whiskey-bottle on top
of the green baize and sat down next to the thoughtful
Jardine.

‘
I had
me a better idea than just robbing another bank, Luther,’ Henry
Jardine replied.

‘
What
ya mean? We robbed the banks of every damn town along the ridge.
That’s what we do. We rob banks.’ Cole rubbed his eyes and watched
his long-time associate lift the bottle to his dry lips and take a
long swallow.

‘
Think
about it. This town is perfect for us to use as a base, Luther.’
Jardine wiped his chin.

‘
What
ya mean?’

‘
From
Diamond City we can strike at Waco!’ Jardine handed the bottle back
to Cole, then glanced at the rest of the outlaws propped up against
the long bar. ‘We already have control of this town. The people
here are hiding like scared jackrabbits. We own this entire town
already and it took just one bullet.’

Cole nodded and swigged at
the neck of his bottle.

‘
I get
it. We use this place as a kinda hideout.’

‘
Yep,’
Jardine confirmed. ‘A real fancy hideout. It has everything. Grub
and booze and probably a lotta females. Our saddlebags are already
bursting with gold and paper money. Now we get a chance to sleep in
real beds like human beings.’

Cole rested his elbows on
the
tabletop. His eyes were glazed as they looked at his
friend’s determined features.

‘
What
about the men folk in this town?’

‘
Simple. We disarm the critters and if they try anything, we
just kill them.’

Cole laughed out loud,
drawing the attention of the rest of their men.

‘
Henry
here has got a darn smart idea, boys!’ he bellowed.

One by one the outlaws
gathered around the small card-table like the flies that had been
drawn to the dead body on the telegraph-office
boardwalk.