Fortress Iron Eyes by Rory Black

Author:Rory Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780719821059
Publisher: Robert Hale

TEN

The relentless bounty hunter followed the hooftracks through the crimson desert with the dogged determination of a bloodhound on the trail of a racoon. What sparse vegetation there was glistened as the fresh blood caught the rays of the sun. Iron Eyes leaned down from his saddle and ran his hand over the sagebrush. The blood was fresh, his mind told him. He was closing the distance between them with every stride of his high-shouldered palomino.

One of the outlaws was losing not only his blood, he was losing his fight with the Grim Reaper. Iron Eyes wiped his fingers down the side of his stained trail coat and stared into the dazzling sunlight.

Then he diverted his eyes back to the sand and the two sets of hooftracks that had disturbed the otherwise pristine sand.

The outlaws were scared, he thought. Scared of something out here in the blistering desert. They might have figured they were being tracked by the best hunter ever to turn his skills to hunting down wanted souls like themselves, but he doubted it. They might just be trying to reach the dubious sanctuary of the deserted fortress.

Iron Eyes had another theory.

It was one that he did not much care to dwell upon.

His bullet-coloured eyes focused on the sand as the powerful stallion wound its way between clumps of sagebrush and up a steep rise. It palomino snorted loudly as it reached level ground. Iron Eyes raised his scarred face and suddenly saw a sight he had dreaded.

His theory had been right. Iron Eyes felt no satisfaction in being proved correct. Now he felt vulnerable. The brutal slaughter dished out by Miller and Schmitt had caught the attention of the countless other Indians abandoned in the desert.

The skeletal horseman steadied his skittish mount and eased back on its reins until the animal came to a halt beneath him.

The palomino stallion snorted loudly and dragged at the sand with a hoof as though trying to alert its master to its disapproval.

‘Quit bellyaching, horse,’ Iron Eyes snarled. He was trying to work out how many of the Indians were already on the desert floor and how close they might be. Most of the Indians he had encountered over the years were never seen unless they wanted to be seen.

Iron Eyes could hear them out beyond the heat haze that continued to rise from the sand. They were there even if he could not see them, he reasoned. They were all around him if his ears were to be trusted.

The Indians were masked from view by the shifting mist that crept out from the sand like the spectres of long-forgotten souls.

The bounty hunter leaned back against his saddle cantle and looked above the haze at the rocky walls of the valley and the high mesas.

Iron Eyes watched the ominous plumes of signal smoke rising from the two mesas and felt his heart quicken. The smoke puffed heavenward as Indians relayed messages across the vast terrain.

Unlike most men of his profession Iron Eyes had learned to read the warning messages hidden in signal smoke long ago.

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