The Scalp of Iron Eyes by Rory Black

Author:Rory Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780719821417
Publisher: Robert Hale

EIGHT

Darkness enveloped the dense forested hills to the south of Ten Strike as the bank robbers continued to spur their mounts deeper into the vast unknown. The three ruthless horsemen had ridden until the sun eventually set before they drew rein and stopped their lathered up mounts. They had not seen the signal smoke but they knew that the brutal slaying of the lone Kiowa brave had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the slain warrior’s kinsmen.

The war drums told them that. They echoed through the tree-covered hills like the beating of countless hearts. Neither of the bank robbers could tell where the drums were coming from, all they knew for sure was that they seemed to be everywhere.

Ben Brooks dismounted first and held on to his leathers tightly as his eyes scanned the surrounding trees for any sign of more Indians.

Sol Cohen slid silently from his saddle and bit his lip as he pulled his weary horse up to the side of the brooding Brooks.

‘You shouldn’t have killed that Injun, Ben,’ Cohen said nervously as the noise of the incessant drums drilled into his skull. ‘We could have just beat the tar out of him and left him back there. Killing that young buck was just plumb stupid.’

Brooks grabbed the shirt collar of Cohen and dragged him closer. Even the darkness could not hide the fury burning in his eyes as the gang leader snorted into his cohort’s face.

‘I killed that young buck, Sol,’ Brooks growled, ‘because he was in our way. I killed him just like I’ll kill you if you ever dare to question me again.’

Jody Laker steered his horse right up to his partners and let his snorting mount draw their attention.

Brooks glanced up at Laker and was about to rage at him when he noticed that the young outlaw was staring through the twilight at something else.

He released Cohen and squinted. ‘What you see, Jody?’

‘I’m looking yonder, Ben.’ Laker pointed up the rise where the trees were entangled. ‘Do you see it?’

Brooks took a step forward. ‘All I see is moonlit trees and shadow. What the hell do you see?’

Cohen began to nod. ‘I see something up there as well, Ben. Whatever it is, I don’t reckon on it being sociable.’

Brooks gritted his teeth. He was angry.

Angry at the fact that he had not figured there might be Indians in this part of the territory to hamper their escape from Ten Strike. Angry that he had lost his temper and killed one of them and angrier that the constant sound of war drums was slowly driving him out of his mind.

‘I don’t see nothing,’ he insisted. ‘There ain’t nothing there. You boys are seeing things.’

Laker tapped his spurs and allowed his tired horse to step between his partners. He leaned over the money bags and then dismounted.

‘I don’t see things that ain’t there, Ben,’ he said. ‘I see trouble and I see feathers.’

Brooks looked at Laker and then returned his eyes to the eerie half-light.

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