Free Iron Eyes, no. 1 by Rory Black

saddle-bags and
emptied their contents upon the bed. The boxes of bullets were
quickly swooped up by his long fingers. He started to insert them
one by one into his Navy Colts. ‘How much money do you want, my
tall one?’
    ‘ Half of whatever those varmints demanded in the ransom note,’
Iron Eyes grunted.
    ‘ Only half?’ Valdez stood and offered the man a cigar, which
was accepted.
    ‘ Half will be fine.’ Iron Eyes bit off the end of his cigar and
rammed it into his mouth as he accepted a light from the smaller
man.
    Dwan José stood
and bowed his head. ‘I am sorry about drugging your wine, my tall
friend, but I had to ensure that you would still be here this
morning. I required time for us to talk.’
    ‘ That wine tasted pretty good,’ Iron Eyes almost smiled as he
took in a lungful of the strong smoke.

Chapter Sixteen
    The saddles
were on and Whit Hardy leaned over his horse at his brother, who
sat watching the Apache who watched them.
    ‘ Ready, Tom,’ he reluctantly said. He might have a hangover
straight from hell itself but he was sober enough to be very
worried at what might happen in the next few minutes of their
futile lives. He knew that his sibling was correct — he could not
hit the side of a barn with his gun, and had only ever been useful
to Dan at firing in the air outside banks they were robbing, in an
action known as ‘clearing the streets’. If Whit had to shoot at
Indians charging at them, it was likely that Tom was going to get
hit before the warriors.
    Tom Hardy
slowly rose to his feet, keeping the rifle close to his chest, as
he moved backward toward the saddled mounts.
    Whit mounted,
staying behind the bushes to conceal his actions as his elder
brother cautiously took hold of the reins in his free hand. It was
just as he lifted his leg and slid his pointed boot into the
stirrup that the Indians suddenly became animated and very, very
loud.
    The small band
of Apache were charging through the river toward them, screaming at
the top of their high-pitched voices. It was a sound that could
freeze the blood of any normal man, and both the Hardy brothers
were very normal.
    Somehow, Tom
managed to get his leg over the horse and get into the saddle.
    He pulled the
horse’s neck around as far as it would go and started, before
aiming at the long trail that edged the river down toward
Mexico.
    Sinking their
spurs into their horses’ flesh, they rode away from their camp.
    The two riders
thundered along the sandy embankment as the Apache finally got
across the wide river, and began giving chase to them.
    A shot passed
over Tom Hardy’s Stetson as he kept pace with his younger brother
in their desperate gallop along the trail.
    ‘ They got rifles, Tom!’ Whit yelled, as another shot whistled
past them. ‘I told you they had rifles!’
    ‘ Guess so,’ Tom Hardy agreed as he tried to give his horse its
head as well as slide his Winchester back into its
sheath.
    The warriors
were chasing the pair at top speed along the rough terrain and
letting rip with their rifles. For them to ride and shoot was
something they learned as children, whereas the Hardy brothers had
difficulty in doing one thing at a time, let alone two.
    For them, to
ride and stay in the saddle was an achievement to brag about. They
had been chased by the odd posse before, but never by Indians.
    Forging their
way through a wall of tall bushes that strayed in front of them,
the two brothers managed to stay in their saddles. More shots
filled the air, and were closer than either man liked.
    It seemed that
they would have to ride to the far-off ocean before these Indians
would quit.
    Blood filled
the air as they continued to spur their galloping mounts into
finding speed that neither animal knew it possessed.
    The chase went
on for over two miles along the river’s edge, before the young
Apache braves pulled their ponies to a halt and then started
laughing at the fleeing pair of white men. They had had their fun,
and returned