Man with No Name- Bounties by Face

The bounty hunter could see nothing further of interest toward the front of the building. He turned to go back toward the rear and froze. A man was crouched near the doors, covering him with a cocked gun. Through the gloom he could make out an ugly knife-scarred face that looked familiar. In the depths of his cash-register memory a bell jangled and a tab popped up, bearing a name and a figure. Ike Fease—five hundred dollars. It was no great shakes as a bounty, perhaps, but five hundred dollars would cover a lot of expenses during a long-drawn-out pursuit. Rack up another potential score for his hunches.
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A second roughneck stepped from behind a shadowed stall partition, gun in hand. “We’re making it our business, mister, as of right now.” The hunter squinted at the new arrival’s long, lantern-jawed face and back in his mind his mental cash register went bing! again. The pay-tab popped up, this time with the name of George Muggins and the sum of seven hundred fifty dollars. The ante was climbing most comfortably.
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The big moon face of the third man rang no cash register bell in his memory. Apparently the Ox was either too new or too inept at outlawry to rate a bounty notice. Oh well, the hunter reflected, you can’t win ’em all, and twelve-fifty isn’t too bad for a few moments of violence.

- The Devil’s Dollar Sign, chapter 3