A bounty hunter is hot on the trail of a dangerous and sadistic outlaw.
|The Bounty Hunter (sample)
by Alec Michaels
The Desert was hot. Incredibly, unbearably hot. One could compare the heat to that of hellfire. Not to mention the endless amount of cactus and rattlers that riddled this desert. Yet Charlie Smalls noticed nothing of the heat or discomfort, rather, he didn't care. His focus was on HIM, that Bastard, Beto Esquivel, the $20,000 dollar man and outlaw; who had robbed banks, killed men and raped women all over West Texas. Small's focus was not on Esquivel's dastardly and atrocious deeds; he didn't really give a shit. No, his focus was on the money, the great green monster, and all of the fame, women, and respect that it would gain him. So Smalls did not notice the hellfire at all he was too excited and caught up in the moment.
He did notice though, that he had been riding his mule for the past four hours and needed to piss. He yanked up on the reins quickly and forcifully, stopping the animal dead in his tracks. The mule was panting and looked at the ground as if to say, "Thank God, I dont have much left in me." The bounty hunter disembarked on the left side of the creature, and stood at the top of a canyon wall to do his business. He carried a single Colt .45 on his belt and wore a leather Mississipi Mud hat that had been scarred and torn on his long journey. His shirt was a dark red, like the color of blood flowing fresh from a vein, and the sleeves were torn at the top of the shirt revealing a scar created from a fairly big hunting knife. His rugged face sported a full beard, one that you could almost strike a match off of. His eyes were almost unnatural, a green color that made his eyes seem as if they were constantly ablaze.
When he finished his pissing, he buckled his pants back up, cut off a piece of chewing tobacco and put it in his mouth. This nasty habit of his had made him forget for the past three hours that he needed water. Of course, He hadn't really focused on anything lately, except for the look on Beto's face when he realizes that he was caught. The bounty hunter spit a glob of juice on the ground, and walked on the canyons edge about twenty paces to his right. Looking left, and slightly downward he noticed the cool, muddy, and rugged waters of the Rio Bravo and the majestic Mexico across from it. He had no interest in Mexico though. No his interest was in a town named Corpus Christi (not the seaside port) that layed approximately 20 miles in front of him. He spit another glob of juice on the ground. He knew that Esquivel had a brother and two sisters in this town, so he figured that unless the son of a bitch enjoyed walking through hell, this town was his destination. All the bounty hunter could see at the moment was the faint, cloudy, outline of the mountains that layed in the distance. He knew though, he was not far off from the town and that as soon as he rode into it by himself, Beto and his gang would be ready to pump his heart and head full of lead. Smalls decided to rest and wait until nightfall to continue riding. He unsaddled his horse and took off his hat to pour water into it. The animal drank it greedily and brayed for more, which he recieved. Smalls then proceeded to make a fire ring and prepare the nights supper, a rattlesnake which he had killed an hour before. It was still early in the day, but Smalls did not care. He was ready to be lazy and rest. He had all the time in the world, and he knew he only had to wait a little bit longer.