Free Blood of Iron Eyes by Rory Black

the blacksmith.
    Hume munched with what teeth he had left inside his mouth on a dry chunk of bread as he inspected the half-dozen horses tied up in their stalls.
    The flickering light from two oil-lanterns hanging on chains suspended from the rafters gave the interior of the stable a strange haunting illumination . Black shadows seemed to dance to the tune created by the light of the flaming kerosene-soaked wicks.
    To the more imaginative it might have seemed as if demons or the like were possessing the cavernous structure, but the blacksmith had stopped believing in ghosts long ago. He knew that such things were for the weak-minded. There was only the reality of a life which had grown harder and harder to survive.
    The eyes of the horses in the stalls sparkled as Hume checked each in turn. 
    The blacksmith might have been long past his best days, but he was good at his job. No horse that he cared for ever lacked attention, food or water.
    Even in his darkest moments the burly man never allowed his own despair to affect his work. Hume never mistreated any animals in his stables. He knew that however bad his life had become, their burden was far heavier than his own.
    After checking the last of the horses, the well-built Hume nodded in satisfaction and made to return to his small living-quarters to finish his supper.
    Suddenly he sensed that he was no longer alone inside the large building.
    He paused and looked around.
    For a moment he saw nothing. Then his eyes focused on the shape of a tall figure framed in the middle of the stable’s open doors.
    The sight startled the blacksmith.
    Hume took a backward step and tried to focus even harder on the unexpected visitor. He told himself that whatever this creature was, it had to be human. The trouble was, no human had ever put the fear of God into him the way this apparition did. Hume felt his heart pounding inside his broad chest. His throat felt as if a noose had been tightened around it.
    The blacksmith steadied himself and swallowed hard. He rubbed his whiskered chin with the palms of his hands and forced himself to step forward once again. The light from the pair of lanterns caught the metal of a pair of Navy Colt gun grips which poked out from the man’s belt.
    Iron Eyes remained totally still.
    Only his long limp hair moved as the gentle breeze washed over his broad shoulders from along the empty street. Hume had not heard the tall skeletal figure approaching. Even with an injured leg, Iron Eyes’s honed hunting instincts had not deserted him. He was still able to move unseen and unheard when he had to.
    ‘Ya open for business?’ Iron Eyes asked.
    ‘I’m always open for business, stranger!’
    ‘Good!’
    ‘Who are ya?’ Hume asked nervously.
    ‘My name’s Iron Eyes!’
    Hume gasped.
    ‘The bounty hunter?’
    Iron Eyes nodded.
    ‘Yep!’

THIRTEEN
    Fear fuelled the imagination of Will Hume as he stared open-mouthed at the unholy image of Iron Eyes bathed in the blackest of the livery stable’s shadows. He knew that the infamous bounty hunter had a thousand ways of killing. Each and every one of them flashed through his mind. The blacksmith could feel his knees knocking as the tall figure limped toward him silently. The chilling realization that the most hunted man in Hope was less than a few yards away from him made Hume feel as if he were living his last moments on earth.
    If death had a face, then surely this was it.
    As Iron Eyes ventured into the light of one of the suspended lanterns Hume gave a gasp. He had never seen anyone who looked like the tall man before. A hundred or more battles were carved into the features of the bounty hunter. Scars twisted the flesh of Iron Eyes’ face until it no longer looked remotely human. The small bullet-coloured eyes peered rapidly all around the interior of the large stable as if seeking out enemies yet to be discovered.
    The grips of the well-used guns poked out from the belt around the thin belly of the bounty