MEN LIKE DAN Landon did not feel fear in the same way that most men did, but the horrific monstrosity which came silently through the bushes chilled him to the bone. It was as if his own worst nightmares had suddenly taken shape and were coming from the very depths of his imagination and manifesting into reality.
Every fiber in Landon’s body wanted to turn and run but he knew that it was impossible. He was unable to move as his eyes focused on the hideous apparition.
For the horseman was not one of the deadly vaqueros he had expected. In fact he looked barely human. The rider was drenched in blood and covered in trail dust. He had slumped over the neck of the large palomino stallion but the high horn and cantle of the Mexican saddle had refused to allow him to fall from his lofty perch.
It was impossible for Landon to tell whether Iron Eyes was asleep or unconscious. The ghostlike figure just swayed like a lifeless shadow.
Landon felt his own sweat trace down his spine as the horse stopped before him. The dirt farmer held on to the bridle and looked hard up at the face of the bounty hunter hidden by the long limp strands of hair. The light was almost gone but there was enough of it left to make the hair on the nape of Landon’s neck rise.
He had seen many things in his time but he had never seen anything like the scarred features of Iron Eyes. Landon was scared to death.
The long limp black hair was something Landon had only previously seen on Apaches, but this was no Indian.
Unsure whether the bounty hunter was alive or dead, Landon cautiously ventured to the saddle and the man’s lean blood-soaked leg. His eyes studied the rider. It appeared that there was very little of this pitiful soul not drenched in blood.
Landon raised a finger and jabbed it into the leg.
‘You alive, stranger?’ he managed to ask fearfully.
It seemed a stupid question, even to the man who had uttered it. His mind told him that nobody who had lost that amount of blood could possibly be anything but dead. Landon peeled the side of the trail-coat away from the bounty hunter’s body. He stared at the bony frame revealed beneath the shredded shirt.
If this man was breathing, Landon certainly could not detect any hint of it.
Landon went to release the coat when he saw the sharp busted rib bones poking out from what had once been bandages. He gritted his teeth. He could almost feel the horseman’s pain.
‘Mister?’ he questioned again.
Iron Eyes still did not move.
Dan Landon dropped his axe. He pulled the spurred boot from the stirrup and took the weight of the emaciated figure in his massive arms. He gently pulled Iron Eyes free of the horse and then turned towards his cabin.
He had taken only one step when he realized that this tall figure weighed less than his own wife.
‘I don’t know who you were, friend,’ Landon said as he began to walk. ‘But I’ll bury you and read from the Good Book over your bones.’
Suddenly without warning or sound Landon felt something as cold as ice pushed under his square jaw. He stopped walking when he heard the hammer of the Navy Colt being cocked.
‘I’d rather you didn’t bury me just yet,’ Iron Eyes whispered in a low drawl.
‘You ain’t dead?’ Landon’s voice was confused.
Iron Eyes forced a defiant smile at the face close to his own. ‘Now that’s a matter of opinion that a lotta folks can’t agree on. Some folks reckon I died a long time back but it ain’t smart to listen to that sort of loco bean.’
‘You’re alive!’ Landon gulped.
‘Don’t sound so disappointed.’ Iron Eyes coughed. ‘There’s still time.’ Landon went to lower the lightweight to the ground when Iron Eyes pushed the barrel of his gun up into the throat of the farmer even harder.
‘Take me to that tree stump over yonder. My legs are a tad tired.’
‘OK. OK. Don’t shoot.’ The muscular man did as he was told and carried his bloody cargo to the tree stump close to the front of the cabin. He gently lowered the injured man down until Iron Eyes was seated on the stump. ‘Please don’t shoot me. I got me a wife and boy in there.’
Iron Eyes released the hammer slowly and then dropped the gun back into his trail-coat pocket.
‘I wasn’t gonna shoot you, friend,’ he admitted.
‘Then why’d you ram that pistol in my neck?’ Landon growled loudly.
‘I didn’t want you to drop me.’ The bounty hunter sighed. ‘I don’t figure this old body of mine could take being dropped at the moment.’
Landon marched to the stallion and led it to his cabin and the unexpected guest, who watched his every move through the long sweat-soaked hair. As he reached the bounty hunter he paused and studied the mount and its livery.
‘Ain’t this a strange rig for a man like you to have on a horse?’
Iron Eyes nodded in agreement. ‘I killed a vaquero downstream to get that nag. Best bullet I ever wasted.’
Landon smiled. ‘You killed one of Sanchez’s vaqueros?’
‘Yep.’
‘Then you just made yourself a friend for life!’ Landon explained. ‘There’s bin a whole bunch of vaqueros killing and burning us settlers for the past month or so.’
Iron Eyes studied the man. ‘How come?’
Landon shrugged. ‘It’s all to do with a varmint named Sanchez. He figures he owns this valley and everything in it, and he don’t cotton to trespassers. He runs a small army of vaqueros to do his bidding and they sure relish doing it.’
The bounty hunter pulled a cigar from his pocket and pushed it between his lips. He scratched a match across his pants leg and then inhaled the smoke. His eyes narrowed as he blew the flame from the blackened match. Suddenly he began to understand why the Mexican had opened up on him.
‘How many of you trespassers are there?’
‘Only three of us left, but we all got family.’
‘You got guns to protect them families?’
‘Nope.’
It was a thoughtful Iron Eyes who brooded for a while as smoke trailed from his mouth. He nodded as if answering a question only he had heard before looking back up at the young man.
‘Reckon you might need a little help by the sounds of it.’
Landon smiled, then reached out and knocked at the cabin door with his large clenched fist.
‘Open up, Wilma honey. We got us a sick friend out here who needs tending.’ Iron Eyes looked down at his side. ‘You’re right. I am in a sort of fix with these ribs of mine.’
‘Did the vaquero do that?’ Landon asked.
‘Nope. An outlaw back at Rio Valdo got lucky.’
‘Outlaw?’
‘Yep.’ Iron Eyes inhaled as much smoke as he could. ‘I’m a bounty hunter and I’m on the trail of a dirty varmint called Joe Brewster. I’m gonna kill that bastard when I catch up with his stinking carcass.’
‘Kill him?’
‘Yep. That’s what I do. I kill bad folks.’
The door opened and the small fragile female looked out at her husband. For a moment she did not see the crouched figure seated on the tree stump. When the bounty hunter turned his head she raised a hand to her mouth in shock.
Landon moved to her. ‘Don’t be feared, Wilma.’
The bounty hunter gripped the cigar in his teeth. ‘The name’s Iron Eyes, ma’am. I’m sorry to have frightened you.’
She was trembling. ‘My name’s Wilma Landon. I’m Dan’s woman, Mr. Iron Eyes.’
Iron Eyes nodded slowly but he was looking past her dress at the small boy who was watching him intently from the cover of the doorway.
‘And what they call you, young’un?’
The boy said nothing. He just kept watching the horrific figure beside his father.
‘This is Billy, Iron Eyes.’ Landon said proudly.
Somehow the thin man with the cigar gripped between his teeth managed to get to his feet and stumble towards the wide-eyed child. Billy Landon stood his ground even though he had never seen anyone like Iron Eyes before.
‘I like you, Billy,’ Iron Eyes said. ‘You don’t waste time gabbing like us old ’uns. You listen and watch. That’s the mark of a real man.’
Dan Landon stepped up close to the bounty hunter and supported him with his powerful arms.
‘Come inside, Iron Eyes. I’ll tend your wounds and Wilma will rustle up some vittles for you.’
Wilma followed her man into the cabin. ‘You think it’s safe for me to light the fire so I can cook something hot, Dan?’
Dan helped the bounty hunter on to a cot.
‘Light the fire, Wilma. I can’t figure why but I ain’t scared no more.’