The Ghost of Iron Eyes (An Iron Eyes Western Book 8) (4 page)

‘
What’s this idea, Jardine?’ Toke Darrow asked. ‘I sure hope
it involves the money in that bank’s safe.’

‘
Better than that, Toke.’ Jardine stood and walked to the
swing-doors. He stopped and rested a hand on the top of
them.

‘
What’s better than robbin’ the bank?’ Darrow
asked.

The taller, older outlaw
looked back for a brief moment before returning his eyes on the
dusty streets before him. He smiled and nodded to
himself.

‘
We
just stole a whole town, Toke!’

There was a brief silence
before the drunken outlaws realized what Jardine had said. Then one
by one they began to laugh and cheer.

‘
I bet
Jesse James never stole a whole town, huh?’ Snake Billow
grinned.

‘
Damn
right!’ Cole grunted as his fingers continued to search his pockets
for the elusive tenth digit. ‘We got ourselves a place that would
make anyone jealous.’

‘
But
stayin’ put in one place has gotta be kinda dangerous, ain’t it?’
Jade Darrow wondered aloud. ‘The law might decide to come visiting
once they find out where we are.’

‘
What
law, Jade?’ Jardine piped up. ‘We’ve killed nearly every damn
sheriff and lawman between here and Black Rock in the last month or
so. Who’s left?’

Clay Moore struck a match
and lit the end of the twisted cigarette in his mouth.

‘
Henry’s right! There ain’t nobody else!’

‘
Even
ol’ Iron Eyes is dead!’ Darrow conceded. ‘And he was the only one
that I ever lost shut-eye over. Them Apaches done a damn good job
as I hear tell.’

Saul Bass spat at the
sawdust at his feet.

‘
I
hope he’s rottin’ in hell!’

‘
Burnin’ more like, Saul!’ Cole laughed. ‘If the Devil let
him in, that is.’

‘
Damn
right!’ Bodine agreed. ‘Iron Eyes made even Lucifer look like a
Sunday-School ma’am.’

Every eye within the saloon
watched the infamous outlaw turn and face them. It was the first
time that any of them had seen Jardine look so happy. Since their
gangs had joined together, Henry Jardine had proved himself the
superior planner out of the thirteen outlaws. If he thought that
they ought to remain in Diamond City, then that was what they would
do.

‘
We
own Diamond City, boys!’ he said triumphantly. ‘It’s ours! And
there ain’t nobody gonna take it away from us!’

Apache Wells had been the
northernmost Texas Ranger outpost for more than a decade. The
military fortress held more than
two hundred of the famed battalion of men
who had enlisted to protect the Lone Star state from a multitude of
enemies.

Colonel Caufield Cotter had
been there from the beginning and yet he still appeared no
different. His was a mission that had taken on almost biblical
proportions during the previous few years. Most Apache tribes had
never fully succumbed to the ever-growing influx of settlers who
continued to flow into their ancestral lands. The Texas Rangers
were fully stretched just trying to protect its people from bands
of Apache, and yet now there was a new problem.

The outlaw gangs had begun to
group together in large numbers and
were destroying everything in their
path.

Colonel Cotter had always
managed to keep things under control, until now. Now he was being
torn apart. His oath to Texas had always come first. He was there
to protect those who could not defend themselves. But even with his
expertise in deploying his men he knew that the news that over
ninety Rangers had been killed
three hundred miles to the east of his
outpost whilst untold numbers of people had fallen victim to the
rampaging outlaws to the west, meant that his men would be
stretched beyond their limits.

Men looked at the
silver-haired man and were in awe of him and his reputation. He had
become more than a mere man in the eyes of his fellow Rangers. He
had taken on a mantle of one who knew that he was cut from a
different cloth from most of his fellow mortals.

Eighteen perilous campaigns had
only added to his seemingly mythical
status. Caufield Cotter was someone who
had transcended mere mortality until he had created what all his
fellows regarded as a persona which had become more than
human.

His men thought that he was
somehow blessed.

But they did not see the man
who remained behind closed doors in his private quarters trying to
work out how to cope with more and more demands with fewer and
fewer Rangers.

He had already had to
send
a
hundred and fifty of his men east to replace those lost at the
hands of the Apache. Men he could ill afford to lose. With only
fifty Rangers left, including himself and his officers, he knew
that he had reached breaking point.

Caufield Cotter simply did not
have enough Rangers left at Apache Wells to
fulfill his obligations to the
homesteads and ranches in his district. When telegraph messages had
started to flood on to his desk begging for military help from
Waco, he knew that he was in serious trouble.

After years of earning a
chest full of medals and reaching an age when most men were either
retired or dead, he would have to saddle up and lead his small
troop into action himself.

His eyes stared down at the
scrap of paper in his hand. He felt a shiver trace its way up his
straight spine. Cotter knew that he would have once again to prove
himself.

But Cotter was not the man
that he had once been.

He was nearly seventy years
of age and his health far from good.

The hooded eyes looked up at
his second in command, Theo Newton. They could not disguise his
anguish.

‘
When
did this arrive, Lieutenant?’

‘
Noon,
sir,’ Newton replied.

‘
Damn!’ Cotter sighed as he rose to his feet and strode to
the open window of his office. ‘We have to ride and ride damn soon,
Theo.’

‘
I
don’t understand, sir,’ Newton admitted. ‘Ride where?’

Cotter waved his right hand
at his fellow Ranger.

‘
Read
that message, son.’

Lieutenant Newton did as he was
ordered. The words seemed to drain every ounce of
color from his
tanned features.

‘
You
know this Lane Clark critter?’

‘
Yep.
I know him,’ Cotter replied. ‘The finest man never to have been in
the Rangers. If he’s asking for help, then we have ourselves a
serious problem.’

Newton gulped hard.
‘But there are only
fifty men on the post at the moment, sir. Far too few to engage in
any sort of conflict.’

‘
I’ve
fought greater odds with fewer men, Theo,’ Colonel Cotter said
honestly.

The officer placed the wire on
the desk and rubbed the corners of his dry mouth with his fingers.
He looked at the elderly officer and wondered if he were still as
brilliant as he had once
been. Could Caufield Cotter still cut the
mustard?

‘
Speak
your mind, son,’ Cotter said, his wrinkled eyes studying the face
of the young man before him. A man whom he knew had some of the
fire in his belly that had fuelled his own youth.

‘
This
is a long ride through Indian territory and we don’t know what’s
waiting for us at the end of it, sir. If it is anything like
Marshal Clark describes, it’ll be bloody. Damn bloody.’ Lieutenant
Newton paused for a moment, then looked straight at his mentor.
‘Are you up to that kinda ordeal, sir?’

Cotter smiled.

‘
Damn.
You’re a mighty brave young man and no mistake, Theo. I’d have
eaten broken glass rather than say that to my superior officer when
I was your age.’

‘
Are
you?’ Newton pressed for an answer to the brutal question.
‘Well?’

‘
I’m
not sure, but I’ll give it my best shot. What can I lose, after
all?’ Cotter looked at the telegraph message again and then at the
man before him. ‘I have to lead this troop and try to help my old
pal. With you at my side and forty-eight Rangers on our tails, we
ought to be able to make a difference. Right?’

Reluctantly, Newton
nodded.

‘
Damn
right!’

‘
Better go out there and break the news to the men, Theo,’
Cotter said firmly. ‘I’ll expect the troop ready to leave Apache
Wells for Waco in one hour’s time.’

The Texas Ranger saluted and
left the office. As the door closed, Caufield Cotter felt another
chill ripple up his backbone.

This time he knew it was
fear.

~*~

The five horsemen had made good
progress. Two days and nights had seen them leave the relative
prosperity of Waco far behind. Then they had led their four heavily
laden
packhorses across one of the most fertile cattle grazing
ranges in Texas until a wall of sand-rock ridges loomed up before
them.

A line of towns fringed the
range at the foot of the jagged ridge. They survived by living off
the wealth of the cattle ranchers who spent their vast fortunes on
everything they required, from places to bank their money to places
where they could buy provisions and supplies. The small towns could
provide everything the cattlemen needed. At a price.

Usually after sundown the
towns
’
lights appeared like a jeweled necklace strung at the base of the
ridge as riders approached from the range. Yet only the moonlight
gave any clue to the nature of the buildings.

The experienced Lane Carter had
ridden this trail so many times that he believed he could do it
blindfolded. His knowledge of the terrain had proved invaluable as
he reined in and stared towards the small town of
Porter
’s
Bluff.

Yet there was no light ahead of
the
five
riders. Not one of the towns had any illumination.

‘
What’s wrong, Lane?’ Col Drake asked, easing his own mount
alongside the marshal’s tall stallion.

‘
Can
you see any lights, Col?’ Marshal Carter asked as his gloved hands
kept the head of his powerful horse raised. ‘Any at
all?’

Drake screwed up his
eyes.

‘
Hope.
There ain’t no light anywhere.’

‘
That’s bad!’ Clark rubbed his chin with his right hand,
then instinctively returned it to the pearl-handled grip of his
holstered gun. His fingers curled around the weapon. ‘I ain’t never
ridden this way before without there being any sign of life. The
saloons alone can be heard from one town to the next ifn the wind
is blowing off the cliffs.’

Pete Hail moved his own
gelding next to his two companions.

‘
So
what? Maybe they all got themselves some shut-eye.’

Carter turned and looked at
the younger man.

‘
It’s
only an hour since sundown. There are at least a half-dozen towns
between here and Diamond City. When it gets dark, folks light
candles and oil-lamps. If there ain’t no light it means …
’

‘
There
ain’t no folks.’ Drake finished the sentence.

‘
No
living ones, anyways.’ Lane Clark sighed.

Drake stood in his stirrups
and studied the line of poles which stretched off in three
directions. The wires seemed intact to the deputy.

‘
Did
you get a message from here, Lane?’ he asked.

‘
Yep.
This and all the rest of them,’ Clark confirmed. ‘But then the
wires stopped coming.’

‘
Them
outlaws couldn’t have killed everyone,’ Drake said, easing his rump
back on to his saddle. ‘Maybe they high-tailed it out after Jardine
and his vermin showed up.’

‘
You
seen any folks on the way here from Waco, Col?’

‘
Nope.’ Drake shrugged.

‘
Exactly.’ The marshal gathered his reins
together.

Tom Rigby spat a lump of goo
before using his index finger to hook the well-chewed tobacco from
around his gums. He flicked the spittle-filled lump at the
ground.

‘
I
reckon there could be folks there, Lane. Mighty scared folks not
wanting them outlaws to return. What you think?’

‘
Tom’s
right, Lane.’ Bobby Smith smiled. ‘They might be hiding in case the
outlaws come back again.’

The marshal
nodded.

‘
You
could be right. C’mon. We’re goin’ in!’