Free The Spirit of Iron Eyes by Rory Black Page A

they had no idea of how big the arid prairie
that stretched out before them was.
    Even the hours of night could not slow their
pace.
    Hume stood in his stirrups and
took the weight off his mount ’s shoulders. His sharp eyesight studied the
moonlit hoof-tracks that led off into the distance before
them.
    Gibson led their pack-mule whilst Wall sat
firmly on his saddle with his trusty scattergun across his waist.
He was the eyes and ears of the three horsemen. The heavily built
Texas Ranger looked out for any sign of danger that might arise and
strike at them from any direction.
    The three horsemen had made good time since
leaving their Texan outpost. They had managed to get through more
than a dozen mounts between them on their long wearying quest.
    A saddle-bag full of golden eagles had
ensured that the three men could buy as much fresh horseflesh as
they needed to hasten their pursuit of the lawman they sought. It
had proven an effective policy and the trio had managed to close
the distance between themselves and Quaid from days to mere
hours.
    The soft sand beneath the hoofs of their
horses began to slow their progress. Hume pulled back on his reins
and stopped the tired mount beneath him. He slid off his saddle,
crouched down and ran his gloved hand back and forth through the
sand.
    Wall and Gibson dismounted behind him and
walked to the silent Texas Ranger officer.
    ‘ What’s wrong, Cap?’ Tanny Gibson asked.
    Hume glanced up at the younger
man and smiled. ‘No trouble, Tanny. I just thought we’d make better pace if
n we take the saddles off our horses and let the poor critters rest
for an hour.’
    Gibson nodded and headed for their
pack-mule.
    Col Wall leaned on his scattergun and stared
all around the moonlit landscape.
    ‘ We
eatin’, Matty?’ he asked.
    Hume rose to his full height.
    ‘ Reckon so, Col.’
    ‘ Break
out some vittles, Tanny,’ Wall told Gibson. ‘We’re gonna
eat.’
    Captain Hume exhaled heavily and rubbed his
rump with both his gloved hands. It had been a long hard ride, and
every bone in his body ached.
    ‘ You
ever think about anything else but grub, Col?’
    Wall smiled. His eyes twinkled in the
moonlight.
    ‘ I thinks about
females and beer! But most of all I thinks about
vittles.’
    Hume nodded and smiled.
    ‘ I don’t cotton to
being out on this damn prairie once the sun rises, Col. I figure
we’ll need every drop of our water just to survive this darn
place.’
    ‘ How
close do ya reckon we are to catching up with old Tom Quaid,
Matty?’ Wall asked, rubbing his belly.
    ‘ We’re
less than an hour or so behind the old-timer, Col.’
    Wall leaned over and looked into the face of
his superior.
    ‘ I f’n we is that close to old Quaid, how come we’re stoppin’
for grub? We ought to ride hard and catch the old
buzzard.’
    Matty Hume pointed down at the tracks that
led off into the eerie distance.
    ‘ That’s why, Col.’
    Col Wall removed his hat and scratched the
top of his head as he stared down at the tracks.
    ‘ Huh?
What ya trying to say, Matty?’
    ‘ Can’t
ya see it?’
    ‘ See
what?’ Wall shrugged.
    Captain Hume shook his
head. ‘You’ll never make a tracker, Col. Can’t ya see the unshod
hoof-tracks that have cut in from over yonder?’
    Col Wall raised both his eyebrows.
    ‘ Unshod hoof-tracks?’ he repeated. ‘Are ya trying to tell me
that them tracks are Injun pony-tracks?’
    ‘ Yep!’
Hume sighed.
    Tanny Gibson dropped the bag of food he had
just pulled off the pack-mule on to the sand.
    ‘ Injuns?’
    The Texas Ranger captain glanced at the
youngest member of their small group.
    ‘ That’s right, Tanny. We seem to have ourselves a whole
bunch of Apache tracks here. Ya ain’t worried, are ya?’
    Tanny Gibson swallowed hard. He bent down
and picked up the bag. His hands were shaking as much as his
voice.
    ‘ Nope.
Injuns don’t bother me none, Cap,’ he said. He straightened up with
the bag in his arms again and walked towards the