A solitary oil lantern illuminated Father Jose’s Spartan living-quarters. Although still early, no daylight reached this cell of a room buried within the heart of the chapel. As the priest closed the door behind him he watched as Iron Eyes paced towards the old man who lay upon the crude cot. He said nothing as he pulled a chair away from a table and sat down beside the fatigued man.
Father Jose moved to the cot and ran his hand over the fevered brow of the old man.
‘I have brought a friend, Pablo.’
The man raised himself up onto an elbow and nodded at the thin-faced Iron Eyes.
This man is known to me and my people, Father,’ Pablo said weakly. This is Iron Eyes.’
‘You know of me?’ Iron Eyes raised an eyebrow as if unable to believe an honest man of the soil could have heard of anyone as infamous as himself.
‘Si, you are Iron Eyes, the hunter of evil men,’ Pablo sighed smiling.
Iron Eyes looked at Father Jose, who was taking a seat next to the cot, with a confused expression carved across his sharp features.
‘What’s going on here, Jose?’
The question was blunt but well placed and made both his companions look hard in his direction.
‘You could be the miracle my friend Pablo came here to find, my son,’ the priest replied.
Iron Eyes felt uneasy. ‘Get to the point, boys. I’m starting to feel a mite edgy.’
Father Jose placed a hand upon the shoulder of the dog-tired man beside him and began to explain.
‘Pablo is the elder of his little village over the border. They chose him to come here to try and find someone who would assist them.’
Iron Eyes searched his pockets to find the last of his cigars.
‘Keep talking. I’m listening.’
‘These are a poor people who have little money. They are farmers and usually the soil gives their little community everything they require. For the past few weeks a gang of bandits has been visiting their village and doing bad things.’
‘What kinda bad things?’ said Iron Eyes, chewing on the cigar.
For a few seconds the two men opposite the bounty hunter spoke in Mexican to each other before the priest returned his attention to Iron Eyes and translated their brief conversation.
‘At first they came to Pablo’s village just for food. It did not take these evil men long to discover how defenseless these poor souls were. There is not a single firearm within the small village. Then the bandits returned once again, demanding money which his people did not have. They are an honest people who barely have enough food to feed themselves. What little money they can earn is by coming over the border and picking crops for their Texan neighbors. When the bandits could find no money they became angry and did many evil things. At first they destroyed their precious beasts of burden, then they turned their attention to the females of the village. Do I have to go into detail, senor?'
Iron Eyes said nothing for a few seconds as he digested the priest’s words. Then he struck a match and lit his cigar and spoke through the haze of smoke.
‘What did they do to the womenfolk?’
Father Jose lowered his head as he answered the question.
‘There are but ten adult women in Pablo’s village. Each one has been raped and brutalized beyond my ability to explain. The worst thing of all though is the children’s fate....’
Iron Eyes drew himself forward and stared hard into the face of the elderly man.
‘They hurt the children too, Pablo?’
‘Far worse than just hurting them, Iron Eyes.’ Pablo began to sob as his mind painted pictures he was unable to cope with.
The bounty hunter rose to his feet and paced into a dark corner where he brooded silently.
‘Will you help these people, my son?’ Father Jose moved from his chair to the side of the taller man.
Iron Eyes sucked on the choking smoke and looked down at the holy man.
‘What were the men folk of Pablo’s village doing when these bandits were satisfying themselves, Jose?’
‘They tried to stop the bandits, Iron Eyes,’ Father Jose began again. ‘I fear these farmers were no match for heavily armed desperadoes. Two of the men were killed in the most ugly of fashions whilst the rest have had their bodies and their spirits broken.’
Iron Eyes paced back to the cot and glared down at Pablo whose eyes were still red and sore.
‘You being old got you the job of coming to look for someone like me, huh?’
‘Si, senor’ Pablo nodded sorrowfully. ‘My people have been praying for a miracle.’
There was a long silence as the thin figure dwelt upon the story, puffing thoughtfully upon the scented cigar gripped firmly in his teeth. Both men watched Iron Eyes moving around the room like a caged puma with only the ringing of his spurs marking time.
Finally the priest stepped forward in the path of the cold-eyed man who stopped abruptly.
‘Will you help Pablo’s people, Iron Eyes?’
Iron Eyes’ chest heaved.
‘I’m just a bounty hunter, or at least I was until I made me a heap of money, Father Jose. Now I’m a rich man who don’t have to do nothing except spend his money. It ain’t me Pablo needs. He needs a gunfighter or the like.’
‘You have helped people before, senor. I have heard stories of you helping people.’ Pablo’s voice was shaking as he spoke.
‘Always for money, old man,’ Iron Eyes corrected. ‘I’ve always worked for money.’
‘Pablo can pay you,’ the priest said quietly. ‘He has been entrusted with the entire fortune of his people.’
Iron Eyes stared down at the old man.
‘How much money, Pablo?’
The old man pulled a small leather pouch from inside his shirt and handed it to the bounty hunter.
Iron Eyes pulled at the draw string and stared within the small bag for a few seconds before handing the pouch back to the weak old man.
‘Like I said, I’ve got me enough money never to have to hunt bounty ever again, boys.’
The priest watched him open the door and walk into the chapel where the hundreds of candles drew him to a halt. He stared up at the golden crucifix.
‘So you will not help them, my son?’
‘Only when my saddlebags are empty once more, Jose,’ Iron Eyes responded as he looked up at the glistening image. ‘I ain’t risking my bacon until I need the money. Like I told you, I only ever work for money’
‘I understand,’ Father Jose said, shaking his head sadly as he stood before the altar crossing himself.
‘What did you say his name was again?’ Iron Eyes pushed the hair off his face and stared up at the holy image.
‘Jesus Christ, our savior. He gave His life so we might live, my son.’ Jose watched the expression on the tall man’s face change as he absorbed the sentence.
Iron Eyes looked down into the face beside him.
‘He don’t look the foolish type.’
‘He was anything but foolish, Iron Eyes.’ Father Jose cast his eyes upward and looked at the beautiful figure which seemed almost animated in the flickering of the candles.
Iron Eyes suddenly found himself staring at the tears rolling down the priest’s face and felt uneasy.
Shrugging, the bounty hunter walked down the centre aisle until he was at the large wooden doors, then paused to look back at the priest. For a brief moment, Iron Eyes was going to speak, then he felt his throat muscles tighten. Turning faster than he had ever done before, the gaunt bounty hunter left the chapel and marched out into the morning sunshine.
Even within the sanctuary of this holy building the sound of the spurs echoed around its white walls.