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The life of a bounty hunter can be a lonely one. For the longest time he thought he had accepted this. After all, he had been in this line of work for quite some time now. The bounty hunter had come to understand and accept the nature of his job as a hired gun. He knew that the job demanded that he place his life on the line for the promise of a potential bounty. He knew that this kind of a job often gave people like him a fearsome kind of reputation....
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The bounty hunter chuckled. It was then that a young woman approached him. She looked a little beaten and exhausted, but there seemed to be a certain fire and determination in her eye. She was actually a looker if not for the curious eye patch that she sported. It covered one of her eyes and the bounty hunter could tell that her face was very slightly contorted because of the injury to her eye. "That how you settle all your disputes at the Poker table?"...
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The first thing I noticed about the bullfighter was his loud and booming voice. That was the first thing that would have struck anyone about him. I was seated in the middle of the small, but packed arena in the middle of Mexico. Beside me was Ronaldo Matanza one of the wealthier men in the bario. Matanza was a wealthy and powerful man with his own group of regulators that watched him wherever he went. His power reached far from just the tiny bario...
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Hank Hazelwood, aka the White Hood, was seemingly fearless, as was his gang. Not only did he laugh in the face of danger, but he was one lucky outlaw. Pinned down in an alley by fifteen Pinkerton detectives never slowed the White Hood down. He simply threw a lighted stick of dynamite at them, after he shot and killed one of the agents.During their getaway, their intention being heading back into New Mexico, the gang spotted a lone rider trailing behind...
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The bounty hunter is comin' to town tomorrow!Everyone had heard of the bounty hunter. Who had not? The man had reached near mythic and infamous status. He had developed a nasty reputation of always getting his man, no matter how tough or dangerous. And he always demanded to be paid fair and right. To many, hiring the bounty hunter was like making a pact with the devil himself. And for them, the devil was coming to town tomorrow.
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The flames flickered in front of the bounty hunter, as he sat alone in his little camp. He had no one for company, but his guns and his coffee. He had a horse tied nearby, but he did not consider the animal as company. He had taken it from someone he had shot and killed and there was no bond between them. He was cold to the animal and the animal showed likewise feelings. No, for all intents and purposes, the bounty hunter was alone.
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Bounty Hunter Clay Barton is to deliver Joseph 'Joe' Barnes to a small train station ran by beautiful Stacey Irvine.While waiting for the Texas Rangers to show up to collect the outlaw and pay Barton the bounty, Barnes' gang attempts a rescue. A violent gun battle ensues.Will the Bounty Hunter be able to repel the gang long enough to collect his bounty?
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Before I begin my sordid tale, let me tell you I have no idea why they nicknamed me 'Saint'. If anything. I am the farthest thing from a blessed or divine individual. My profession is anything but holy. If anything, it's probably on the dark side of things. I guess that's how it always is in the West.I'm a bounty hunter, you see. A man that hunts other men that have crossed the law and have a price on their head. In my travels, I've been to a lot...
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His name was Bart Samson, but sometimes, even he wasn't sure. The young man had been wandering so long under so many aliases, that he didn't really know anymore. It seemed as though all he ever really knew was a life on the run, constantly trying to keep ahead of the long arm of the law. The kid would often hide out and go wherever the wind took him. He was always trying to escape the law, but the law had a nasty habit of always catching up. Still,...
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Once the coffin splintered into several pieces, Lincoln fell into the water. His wrists were still handcuffed, and there was no way that he could swim to safety. He was still reeling from the impact of the fall, and he couldn't kick up to the surface. Lincoln was too tired to fight, and simply accepted his fate.But it was to be a fate that even he did not expect.From out of nowhere, he felt hands grab onto him, and pull him away from the river's beckoning...
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