Free The Ghost of Iron Eyes (An Iron Eyes Western Book 8) by Rory Black Page B

give it up.
    ‘ Don’t
none of you make any sudden moves,’ Iron Eyes warned the four
lawmen. ‘I’m kinda testy.’
    The disheveled pony kept on responding to
the bounty hunter’s spurs as he forced it to keep cantering through
the stinging sand-storm towards the men with four gleaming stars
pinned on their vests.
    ‘ He
ain’t alive!’ Col Drake announced. ‘Nobody could look that bad and
still be alive, could they? He’s a ghost or something.’
    Iron Eyes dragged at the
mane of his exhausted pony and stopped it right before the four law
officers. His eyes darted from one rider to the other at a speed
that only someone with instincts as sharp as his spurs could
equal.
    ‘ Reckon I ain’t too pretty, son,’ the bounty hunter said in
a low deliberate tone. ‘But then I never was. I’m still capable of
killing every one of you before you can blink, though.’
    ‘ Would
you kill us?’ Ripley asked.
    ‘ Nope.
I don’t waste bullets on folks with no bounty,’ Iron Eyes admitted.
‘There ain’t no damn profit in killing just for the fun of
it.’
    Marshal Clark eased himself
in his saddle.
    ‘ Howdy, Iron Eyes. Long time since we run into each
other.’
    Iron Eyes tilted his head
and stared hard at the marshal.
    ‘ Lane
Clark. I thought you was dead. You’re old enough to be dead and no
mistake.’
    ‘ Reckon it’s mutual, son,’ Clark replied. ‘Everybody thinks
that you’re dead as well. The West has been running wild with
vermin since you last claimed the bounty on an outlaw’s
head.’
    Iron Eyes looked
interested.
    ‘ So
them outlaws think I’m dead and they’re having themselves some fun,
huh?’
    ‘ Too
much fun, Iron Eyes.’ Clark sighed. ‘Lots of gangs have joined
together into small armies. The law can’t cope with all the
killing.’
    ‘ Is
that why you came looking for me?’ the bounty hunter asked. ‘Is
that why you came out here in the middle of no place looking for
old Iron Eyes, Clark?’
    ‘ Yep!’
    The tall man eased himself
off the back of the painted pony and then looked around the arid
landscape. His eyes seemed never to stop moving as he held firmly
on to the mane of his nervous mount.
    ‘ Maybe
everybody is right about the both of us, Clark. Maybe we are dead
and this is Hell.’
    Clark dismounted and stood
beside the thin figure.
    ‘ It’s
sure hot enough. You still game to hunt bounty?’
    ‘ I’m
game,’ Iron Eyes drawled. ‘I’ll kill anything if the price is big
enough. Is it big enough?’
    Lane Clark unbuckled one of
his saddlebag satchels and pulled out a fistful of wanted posters.
He handed them to Iron Eyes and watched as the hint of a smile
etched across the mutilated features.
    ‘ I
reckon that adds up to about ten thousand bucks,’ Iron Eyes
calculated aloud.
    ‘ Exactly ten thousand dollars, son.’ Clark nodded as he
watched the bounty hunter push the posters down into one of his
deep coat-pockets.
    The deputies could not hide
their fear of the horrific-looking creature standing beside the
marshal. No one looked directly at the bounty hunter.
    ‘ Your
boys ain’t got very strong stomachs, Clark,’ Iron Eyes noted.
‘Ain’t one of the varmints that can look at me.’
    ‘ You
don’t look too pretty, Iron Eyes,’ the marshal said
honestly.
    Iron Eyes nodded silently. He
knew that if he looked only half as bad as he felt, he must be a
sight that no one would willingly cast their eyes upon.
    ‘ Ya
got a cigar, Clark?’ Iron Eyes asked. ‘I could sure use a smoke.
Ain’t had one in a coon’s age.’
    ‘ Sure
have.’ Clark nodded.
    ‘ What
about whiskey?’ Iron Eyes added. ‘I’d imagine that you boys must
have at least one bottle between ya.’
    The marshal
smiled.
    ‘ Yep.
I got me a full bottle of rotgut in my saddlebag, if n you’re
interested?’
    ‘ I’d
drink iodine right about now, old man,’ said Iron Eyes, squaring up
to the mounted deputies. He looked at the pack-horses behind the
deputies and the bloodstained