Even the darkness of night offered Iron Eyes no sanctuary as his ravaged body desperately fought to regain its strength. For without the blistering heat of the sun, the night saw even more deadly creatures emerge from their lairs to seek out their chosen prey. And the severely weakened bounty hunter was that prey. The twisting canyons became alive with nocturnal hunters of every shape and size. A thousand types of deadly insect, spider and lizard came out from their hiding-places, as did the wolves and mountain cats.
All with just one basic instinct controlling their every action. To kill and eat and not be killed or eaten.
It was a nightly ritual that the bounty hunter had so far survived. Yet for each of the previous ten nights his ice-cold eyes had watched the pair of mountain cats get bolder and bolder as they homed in on his weak body.
So it was as the sun gave way once again to the bright moon.
Iron Eyes had managed to move a dozen yards along the canyon wall but still had no idea how far he was from anything remotely resembling civilization. For the man who was feared throughout the West, civilization meant only three things.
A soft hotel bed, a plentiful supply of cigars and a bottle of anything remotely similar to whiskey. Humanity could keep all the rest of its trimmings. As long as he could drink the fiery distillation, he would willingly sacrifice the bed and the smokes.
But each of those items were just vague memories now. Things his tired mind conjured up to remind him that this place was somewhere to escape from.
Not somewhere he would willingly die in.
His long fingers had become even more bony during his enforced stay in this God-forsaken place. Yet they were starting once again to move with the flexibility that had allowed him to become a deadly shot with either hand.
He continued to check the pair of Navy Colts and ensure that they were free of the dust and sand that filled his eyes and mouth. He needed these weapons to be in full working order if he were to continue to survive the perils of Devil’s Canyon.
Then he heard the noise that had haunted him for the previous week and a half.
An ear-piercing series of catcalls rang out over the jagged peaks as one puma communicated with its mate. They came from two different directions and taunted the trapped man. The hunter in Iron Eyes knew that it meant the pumas had returned and had his scent in their nostrils.
The bounty hunter’s steely gaze darted from one black shadow to another as he attempted to see his hunters. But they were experts at moving through the ragged peaks unseen. Only their haunting noise gave him any clue to where the slim athletic animals might be.
The mountain lions had a strange, almost human cry which echoed all about him.
It chilled the bones of all men who heard it, all men except Iron Eyes. He had spent too many years hunting every known creature to be alarmed by the sound of large cats as they vainly attempted to spook their chosen prey. Their claws and fangs were no match for the bullets that had torn his body apart over the years he had roamed the West.
If they did get the better of him, Iron Eyes knew that they would kill him swiftly. For they were driven by hunger and not malice like so many of his enemies.
Then he saw them.
Two magnificent animals.
Iron Eyes peered intently into the moonlit ridge and watched the silhouettes of the animals as they closed the distance between themselves and the injured bounty hunter.
Every night they had grown bolder.
At first Iron Eyes had managed to make them turn tail by shouting at them. A few nights later, even his most hearty of calls had not discouraged their advance.
He had wasted ten bullets in as many nights frightening them away, but even that had started to hold no fear for the pair of mountain lions.
Their feline brains had confused his random gunfire with an inability to hit his targets. They were now close enough to smell the injured man’s scent on the evening air. The dried blood drew them like flies to an outhouse.
Iron Eyes checked his saddlebags and found the twenty remaining .36 caliber bullets in the crumbling cardboard box. Not enough to wage war even on pumas. He had never been so low on ammunition in all his grown days.
From now on, he knew that he had to make every bullet count.
He had to kill!
The matched pair of lightweight weapons held six bullets apiece. Thirty-two rounds was all he had between life and death.
Iron Eyes knew that he could not afford to waste a single shell.
He narrowed his eyes, gritted his teeth and focused on the large cats as they leapt from one boulder to another on their descent to the canyon floor. This time they were coming to get him. They had lost all fear of the deadly bounty hunter.
At last they were both on the sand and less than thirty feet from where he sat propped up against the ragged rocks. Their eyes seemed to glow as they moved in and out of the black shadows, staring at him.
It had taken the better part of a year for Iron Eyes to regain his lethal instincts. His hands clutched the Colts as his thumbs pulled back the hammers until they fully locked into position.
He rested his head back until he could feel his matted hair being pushed into the nape of his neck against the rocks. Never blinking, his narrowed eyes continued to focus on the pair of pumas.
They had committed themselves and he would attempt to give them a fight. He would not allow them to do what so many others had tried to do in the past. He would not let them win this battle.
For what felt like an eternity, they had wanted to kill him.
Iron Eyes had tried to dissuade them with his guns but now knew he would have to try and destroy them before they destroyed him. It gave him no satisfaction killing anything that he could neither eat nor get bounty upon.
There would be no profit in this night’s work.
None!
The only thing he would gain would be more unwanted visitors when the scent of their freshly spilled blood drifted on the warm night air which continued to pass through the maze of canyons.
There were plenty of other predators in Devil’s Canyon waiting for the chance to get a free meal. He had heard wolves and coyotes howling at night since the moon had returned to the star-filled sky above him a week earlier.
Iron Eyes knew that there was no way he could fend off an attack by a pack of hungry wild dogs. He simply did not yet have the strength to fight.
His only power rested in the guns he held in his hands.
His unblinking eyes burned into the eerie blue light and tried to penetrate the black shadows. The pumas continued to make their blood chilling screams.
The barrels of the Navy Colts tracked both cats’ every movement without the bounty hunter even realizing it. His hands had learned long ago how to aim the long seven-inch barreled weaponry without any conscious thought. Even during his worst moments, when he had first found himself in Devil’s Canyon, he had still been able to rely on his ability to kill.
Then when both the pumas had moved into the blackest of shadows on the rockface opposite the bounty hunter, the pair of mountain lions stopped their pacing.
Iron Eyes inhaled deeply.
He tried to lock every muscle into place as his trigger-fingers teased the cold steel. He waited with the cocked guns held firmly in his outstretched hands.
For what seemed a lifetime, Iron Eyes patiently waited and watched the shadows. He knew what the pumas were doing for he had done the same thing on countless occasions.
They were getting ready to strike!
Iron Eyes felt the weight of the Navy Colts straining every muscle in his emaciated body. The lightweight guns felt like blacksmith’s anvils to the disheveled figure as he rested his wrists upon his thin thighs.
‘C’mon!’ he urged under his breath. ‘I’m ready!’
Then with a crescendo of terrifying roars they came!
The huge paws of the large cats ate up the distance as they thundered across the surface of the soft sand towards their immobile prey. As one and then the other puma sprang like coiled springs into the air, Iron Eyes squeezed the triggers of his guns.
The deafening sound of the Colts rang out through the arid landscape.
Both animals crashed violently into him. He felt the claws tearing at his skin. The sheer force of their full weight slammed into him. The back of his head hit the rocks behind him. His smoking Colts were knocked from his hands. Then he felt warm blood soaking him like a bursting dam.
Iron Eyes somehow pushed the lifeless animals’ heavy bodies off him and then he stared at his handiwork. Both his bullets had found their mark.
The cats had been hit dead center as they had leapt off the ground. Blood still poured from the wounds.
Iron Eyes rubbed the gore from his face. His bony hands plucked his guns off the sand and held them to his chest.
He closed his eyes and listened to his own pounding heart.
Iron Eyes was still alive.