The Curse of Iron Eyes
a moment’s hesitation, the man ran behind his spooked
horse with the primed buffalo gun gripped firmly in his hands. The
dust that kicked up by the hoofs of his mount gave him a little
cover and he intended to use that to his advantage. As he got
closer to the huge boulder his eyes were locked on to the gap
between it and the rock face.
    His squinting eyes
could clearly see movement beyond its huge bulk. Shadows danced on
the canyon wall.
    The low-life Iron Eyes
was hiding there, waiting to ambush him, he thought.
    His horse had only just
passed the boulder when it slowed to a halt, then turned to look at
whatever was hiding behind the large rock. It too had seen
something behind the boulder, the man told himself.
    The man was now within
the range of the Navy Colts. He had to act quickly if he were to
survive a showdown with such a devious and skilled enemy. He would
have to get a clean shot with his buffalo gun to finish the bounty
hunter off with one bullet. The man knew that he would have little
time to reload the mighty single-shot rifle in his hands if he
missed his target.
    It was a thought too
awesome to even dwell upon.
    This had to be done
swiftly.
    He
crouched into the floating dust and then ran to the opposite rock
face. He could see the Apache pony clearly just behind the rock as
it vainly fought against its bonds.
    Where was Iron
Eyes?
    Knowing that he was risking walking into the deadly sights of
Iron Eyes’ Navy Colts, he trained the barrel of his buffalo gun in
the direction of the skittish pony and cautiously edged
forward.
    Inch by inch, his boots
moved along the canyon wall through the soft sand.
    Sweat poured from
beneath his Stetson hatband and ran unchecked down his weathered
face.
    Then
he caught sight of the bounty hunter’s long trail coat against the
boulder and the distinctive blue gun resting by its frayed
sleeve-cuff halfway up the jagged rock.
    A sense of panic
suddenly overwhelmed him.
    The
long trail coat was covered in blood and Iron Eyes was motionless.
A thousand questions raced unanswered inside the sniper’s brain.
Had Iron Eyes died from the shot that had brought him off his pony
earlier?
    With a
speed that defied the heat of Devil’s Pass, he ran forward and
squeezed the trigger. The buffalo gun blasted its deafening charge.
The bullet hit the coat dead center and the boulder exploded into a
thousand pieces.
    The man watched it fall
to the ground.
    His eyes widened when
he realized that the trail coat had been carefully placed against
the side of the boulder. There was no one inside its already
blood-soaked fabric.
    Where was Iron Eyes?
His mind screamed as his fingers desperately pulled another bullet
from the belt hanging over his shoulder. He opened the chamber of
the weapon, pulled out the still-smoking brass casing, then slid
the fresh shell into the chamber. He locked it into place.
    Then he heard the sound
of spurs again.
    He hauled the hefty
weapon around and stared at the spurs hanging on the saddle horn of
the terrified Indian pony.
    ‘ What the hell?’
he muttered as the thought that he had been well and truly tricked
sank at last into his fevered brain.
    He stared at the coat
on the ground, then searched the area behind the boulder for the
man he was hunting. There was no sign of Iron Eyes anywhere.
    Had the bounty hunter
somehow disappeared into thin air?
    That was the way it
seemed to the confused man as he lowered the rifle and moved
towards the tethered Indian pony and the long sharp spurs that had
been deliberately left hanging on the saddle horn.
    Before he had time to
think, he heard a sudden noise behind him. He twisted on his heels
and fired his buffalo gun again.
    Blood splattered all
over him.
    He watched in horror as
his horse was nearly cut in half by the shot from his own smoking
weapon. The pitiful creature was knocked backwards and crumpled
heavily into the blood-covered sand.
    His startled gaze
darted away from the body of the stricken animal and

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