Read Online The Wrath of Iron Eyes (An Iron Eyes Western #5) by Rory Black - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rory Black
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teeth of a giant.
He had made it.
He dismounted, filled his hat with water
from his canteen, and allowed the horse to drink as he checked his
old Colt .45. It was fully loaded and greased.
When the horse had finished the last drop of
the precious liquid, Hardin scooped up the Stetson and placed it
back on his head. The droplets of water on his balding scalp felt
good as he stepped back into the stirrup and hauled his bulk back
on to the saddle.
The sheriff of Cripple Creek
urged the sorrel down the sand-covered incline and rode directly at
the white buildings with renewed vigor.
With every stride that the robust horse took
across the soft, sandy terrain, the law officer wondered whether
the bounty hunter would still be in Sanora. He had a fear that,
just as after his cold-blooded dispatch of outlaw Ben Drake back at
Cripple Creek, Iron Eyes might have headed off in search of his
next victim.
Then as the sorrel entered the
maze of white buildings and the sound of the Mexican townspeople
enjoying the slightly cooler temperature that darkness always
brought filled the air, he spotted the dapple-gray horse tied up outside a
cantina.
Tom Hardin slowed the horse to a walk as he
approached the busy building.
Light cascaded out into the
street as he slowly got off his mount and gathered up the long
reins. He rubbed the dust from his face and tied the sorrel to the
hitching pole next to Iron Eyes’ gray.
A hundred thoughts went through the mind of
the sheriff as he pushed the beaded curtains apart and stared into
the busy cantina.
Would Iron Eyes help him find Rosie
Smith?
What if he had continued to drink whiskey at
the same rate as he had done in Cripple Creek and was now lying in
a drunken stupor?
A few steps inside the cantina answered most
of the questions that had burned their way into the mind of the
sheriff during the hours that he had spent in the saddle riding
here.
The unmistakable figure of Iron Eyes was
sitting next to Black Ben Tucker at a filthy table with a bowl of
half-eaten chili before him.
Iron Eyes looked even paler than when Hardin
had last seen him. There were corpses buried in Boot Hill that
looked more alive than the bounty hunter.
Tom Hardin removed his hat and
made his way
through the cantina’s customers until he reached the table and then
stared down at Iron Eyes. He spotted the left leg which was covered
in iodine and crude catgut stitches.
‘ What the hell happened to
you, son?’ the sheriff asked in a tone that displayed his utter
shock at the sight before him.
Tucker looked at the sheriff and focused on
the star. He felt uneasy once more.
‘ Iron Eyes got himself into
a little trouble with a bunch of Apache’s, Sheriff.’
‘ Black Ben Tucker?’ Hardin
said the name he had read on the Wanted poster so many
times.
‘ Sit down, Sheriff,’ Iron
eyes said bluntly. ‘Join me and my friend in a little
supper.’
Hardin’s mouth fell open.
‘ Your friend? I thought you
was hunting this man’s bounty, Iron Eyes.’
Iron Eyes glanced at the train-robber and
then back at the sheriff. A smile crawled over his thin cracked
lips.
Chapter
Seventeen
The sound of the water as it fell
unceasingly into the deep lake outside the mouth of the large cave
filled the ears of all the bandits. Normally it would have helped
them fall asleep, but not on this night.
This night it was different.
Malverez had never been so close to what
could only be described as a mutiny before. For a decade he had
controlled his followers and they had obeyed his every order
because they knew that his was a brain that calculated everything
methodically and without any hint of emotion.
He had made them a fortune but this night
there was something the bandits valued far more than the wooden
chests filled with gold and silver coins.
The bandit leader had been
lying beside the silent Rosie Smith for hours and yet he had done nothing.
The eyes of the five other bandits had not closed since he had made
his
He had made it.
He dismounted, filled his hat with water
from his canteen, and allowed the horse to drink as he checked his
old Colt .45. It was fully loaded and greased.
When the horse had finished the last drop of
the precious liquid, Hardin scooped up the Stetson and placed it
back on his head. The droplets of water on his balding scalp felt
good as he stepped back into the stirrup and hauled his bulk back
on to the saddle.
The sheriff of Cripple Creek
urged the sorrel down the sand-covered incline and rode directly at
the white buildings with renewed vigor.
With every stride that the robust horse took
across the soft, sandy terrain, the law officer wondered whether
the bounty hunter would still be in Sanora. He had a fear that,
just as after his cold-blooded dispatch of outlaw Ben Drake back at
Cripple Creek, Iron Eyes might have headed off in search of his
next victim.
Then as the sorrel entered the
maze of white buildings and the sound of the Mexican townspeople
enjoying the slightly cooler temperature that darkness always
brought filled the air, he spotted the dapple-gray horse tied up outside a
cantina.
Tom Hardin slowed the horse to a walk as he
approached the busy building.
Light cascaded out into the
street as he slowly got off his mount and gathered up the long
reins. He rubbed the dust from his face and tied the sorrel to the
hitching pole next to Iron Eyes’ gray.
A hundred thoughts went through the mind of
the sheriff as he pushed the beaded curtains apart and stared into
the busy cantina.
Would Iron Eyes help him find Rosie
Smith?
What if he had continued to drink whiskey at
the same rate as he had done in Cripple Creek and was now lying in
a drunken stupor?
A few steps inside the cantina answered most
of the questions that had burned their way into the mind of the
sheriff during the hours that he had spent in the saddle riding
here.
The unmistakable figure of Iron Eyes was
sitting next to Black Ben Tucker at a filthy table with a bowl of
half-eaten chili before him.
Iron Eyes looked even paler than when Hardin
had last seen him. There were corpses buried in Boot Hill that
looked more alive than the bounty hunter.
Tom Hardin removed his hat and
made his way
through the cantina’s customers until he reached the table and then
stared down at Iron Eyes. He spotted the left leg which was covered
in iodine and crude catgut stitches.
‘ What the hell happened to
you, son?’ the sheriff asked in a tone that displayed his utter
shock at the sight before him.
Tucker looked at the sheriff and focused on
the star. He felt uneasy once more.
‘ Iron Eyes got himself into
a little trouble with a bunch of Apache’s, Sheriff.’
‘ Black Ben Tucker?’ Hardin
said the name he had read on the Wanted poster so many
times.
‘ Sit down, Sheriff,’ Iron
eyes said bluntly. ‘Join me and my friend in a little
supper.’
Hardin’s mouth fell open.
‘ Your friend? I thought you
was hunting this man’s bounty, Iron Eyes.’
Iron Eyes glanced at the train-robber and
then back at the sheriff. A smile crawled over his thin cracked
lips.
Chapter
Seventeen
The sound of the water as it fell
unceasingly into the deep lake outside the mouth of the large cave
filled the ears of all the bandits. Normally it would have helped
them fall asleep, but not on this night.
This night it was different.
Malverez had never been so close to what
could only be described as a mutiny before. For a decade he had
controlled his followers and they had obeyed his every order
because they knew that his was a brain that calculated everything
methodically and without any hint of emotion.
He had made them a fortune but this night
there was something the bandits valued far more than the wooden
chests filled with gold and silver coins.
The bandit leader had been
lying beside the silent Rosie Smith for hours and yet he had done nothing.
The eyes of the five other bandits had not closed since he had made
his
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