From the sandy ridge the outlaw focused his binoculars on Iron Eyes far below on the prairie floor. Diamond Back Jones stood amid the hundred or more Apache braves watching the solitary figure who was standing beside the pitiful pony, drinking his whiskey. He lowered the glasses and glanced across at the stone-faced Apache chief Conchowata.
‘Iron Eyes!’ Diamond Back Jones said in an almost triumphant way. ‘I told you that I would bring the evil one here, great chief. Didn’t I?’
‘You did, my brother,’ Conchowata agreed. ‘You have fulfilled your promise to your people. When you went to learn the ways of the white eyes, I thought they would destroy you as they have destroyed everything Apache. But I was wrong.’
‘He looks a little confused.’ The smile that had graced Jones’s face for more than an hour grew wider with every passing heartbeat.
‘The one known as Iron Eyes must be mighty scared!’ the chief grunted forcefully.
‘I don’t think Iron Eyes has ever been scared in his whole life, Conchowata,’ Diamond Back Jones said as he handed the binoculars to the painted Apache chieftain. Take a closer look at his face through them glasses.’
Conchowata narrowed his eyes and looked through the small eye-pieces at Iron Eyes. His fingers turned the small metal wheel until the focus was crystal clear. He studied the bounty hunter’s scarred face carefully. The Apache was stunned by the sight. He had never imagined that anyone could look quite so horrific.
‘Iron Eyes has been in many battles. He wears his victories on his face.’
Diamond Back rubbed his smooth chin thoughtfully. ‘What do you think he is, great chief? Mexican? White or Indian?’
The Apache warrior brooded over the question.
‘He not like any other men I have seen before. He not even look alive.’
‘He’s alive OK.’ Jones nodded. ‘I seen him bleed. Ya gotta be alive to bleed.’
Conchowata noticed the whiskey bottle in the bounty hunter’s hand. ‘Look! Iron Eyes drink firewater!’
‘They reckon the varmint lives on the stuff,’ Jones informed the Indian. ‘But they say he never gets drunk. No matter how much fire-water he drinks, he never gets drunk.’
The chief patted the outlaw’s shoulder.
‘You did good, my brother. You have lured the living ghost into the land of the Apache just like you said you would. At last we shall get our revenge.’
The outlaw removed his Stetson and shook his head. The long black hair fell on to his shoulders.
‘I have never forgotten that I am an Apache, Conchowata. I have lived with the white eyes for many moons and learned their ways. But I am like you. I am Apache.’
The chief stared through the binoculars at the distant figure and smiled.
‘Iron Eyes has been curse to our people for many moons. He shall pay for all the crimes he has committed against us. Now it will be him who is hunted like a dog.’
Diamond Back nodded as he stared into the blinding sun without blinking.
This is a good day for our people. We shall kill the evil one who has taken the lives of so many of our brothers. We shall drink his fire-water and give thanks to the Great Spirit.’
Conchowata returned the black binoculars to Jones and began to walk through his heavily painted braves towards their mounts.
‘We will kill Iron Eyes very slowly. We shall strip the flesh from his bones and feed it to our camp dogs. He shall suffer the death he deserves. A thousand knife-points will make him loco. Then we will make him beg us to end his agony. He shall know the vengeance of the Apache before he travels to the happy hunting ground.’
Diamond Back walked next to the chief as the rest of the Apache braves followed them to the line of horses. He had known that bringing the living ghost to his tribe would ensure his safe passage through the land that he had grown up in. A land that had taught him to survive.
But unlike the rest of his kind, Diamond Back had wanted more than the Apache life could ever give him. He had seen how the white men lived and the luxuries they enjoyed. That was his idea of living. He wanted to walk into a cafe and have money to buy an inch-thick steak covered in gravy. Being a ruthless outlaw had given him that. Diamond Back Jones knew that he would never again search for grubs to eat like the rest of his tribe. To be only one day away from starvation held no romantic for value him.
Diamond Back had tasted the fruits of the white eyes.
He liked it.
But being an outlaw brought dangers. The worst of which was the mysterious Iron Eyes. A man who seemed neither white nor Indian. A bounty hunter who it was said could never be killed because he was already dead.
Jones rubbed his chin again as he and the rest of the Apache reached their mounts. Without Iron Eyes hunting him, he could probably continue his killing and stealing until he was too old to raise a gun in his hand.
Leading the notorious bounty hunter here had achieved two things. It had raised his profile with the people he had abandoned and ensured that he always had a place where he could hide out from the law. It had also put the one man he feared in deadly danger. He knew that even Iron Eyes could not get out of this situation alive.
Without the most feared bounty hunter on his trail, Jones could continue on to Texas and start killing and robbing again until he had everything he desired.
Not that he had ever managed to get quite enough of anything he wanted. For killing had an addictive quality and he never seemed to be satisfied with any amount of stolen money.
‘We go and capture Iron Eyes!’ Conchowata shouted to all his braves.
Every one of the painted warriors threw himself on the back of his pony and began to make war cries to the cloudless sky above them.
Mounting his horse, the Apache outlaw known as Diamond Back Jones tried to stop smiling.
It was impossible.