Beware the Guns of Iron Eyes by Rory Black

Author:Rory Black [Black, Rory]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

It was more than an hour later when Bo Hartson looked up at the mysterious Iron Eyes as the tall youngster rounded the corner and entered the livery. Hartson barely recognized the youngster decked out in brand new shirt and pants as he walked back toward where the blacksmith was seated.

Iron Eyes was labouring under the weight of carrying his boxed goods. Every hidden graze hurt as the cardboard box rubbed against the simple clothing Lang had given him. The burly blacksmith got to his feet and looked at the bruised and battered Iron Eyes as he strolled toward the forge and then carefully laid down a cardboard box next to his muscular pal.

‘Iron Eyes got whiskey and cigars.’ The youngster beamed as he pointed at the box. ‘We smoke and drink now.’

The blacksmith stroked his whiskered chin and stared at the clothes his protégé now sported.

‘How’d you get these new duds, boy?’ he asked.

‘Kerm give me,’ Iron Eyes answered. ‘He find lot of dollars on dead man.’

Hartson raised his eyebrows. ‘Exactly what dead man would that be, son?’

Iron Eyes looked at his curious friend.

‘The man I killed in fight, Bo,’ he shrugged as he inspected his goods in the box like a child staring into a jar full of candy canes. ‘He not need money. Him dead.’

The blacksmith exhaled and plucked two tin cups off the side of his forge and placed them on one of the upturned barrels he used as seats. He then moved closer to Iron Eyes and cautiously asked.

‘Was that anything to do with the shooting I heard?’ he asked his young pal as he silently noticed the cuts and bruises that covered his gaunt features.

Iron Eyes nodded.

‘Two big men start shooting at Iron Eyes,’ he explained with a casual shrug. ‘I made one sleep but the other kept trying to shoot me with gun. I killed him with knife.’

Hartson gave a big sigh and rubbed his neck. He walked around the lean figure and then looked down into the box at the goods within it.

‘Looks like you got a good deal with old Kermit, boy,’ he noted. ‘You did darn well for yourself.’

‘Kerm is good man,’ Iron Eyes agreed before reaching down and lifting the cigar box up. He opened its lid and offered one of the black cigars to the blacksmith. ‘We smoke now.’

‘You bought most of his store by the looks of you, Iron Eyes,’ Hartson said as he picked one of the cigars as sniffed it carefully. ‘Why’d Kermit give you these clothes, boy? Your other clothes looked OK.’

‘Clothes bloody,’ Iron Eyes said. ‘Ripped by fatman and his bullets. Kerm said these better.’

The blacksmith nodded as he visually inspected Iron Eyes’ new wardrobe. He rubbed his chin.

‘They are kinda smart,’ Hartson said. ‘Darn fancy.’

‘Will snare many furs for Kerm,’ Iron Eyes said.

The blacksmith placed the cigar in his mouth, leaned over the forge and lit the long thin smoke. He puffed and then returned his attention to his youthful friend.

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