Man with No Name- Pistol Whipping Woman

 Its weight told him the box was full, but he had a yen to see the contents and was preparing to hoist the box clear of the barrel when he heard a noise from the passageway to the storeroom.

He lowered the box carefully back into its resting place, spun the lid into place and glided across to the side of the small door, pressed himself flat against the wall, pistol at the ready.

The door creaked faintly as it was pushed open and the Man With No Name raised his hand holding the pistol, brought it down decisively as the intruder entered, a mere dark shadow in the gloom. The newcomer collapsed into a heap on the floor without so much as a groan and the stranger bent down over the body, let out his breath in a deep sigh.

“Sorry, señora,” he muttered softly as he recognised the beautiful Marisol, out cold.

For a moment he was confused, but then he reached a decision, holstered his pistol and scooped up the woman in his arms, carrying her weight easily, and kicked the door closed behind him as he moved with his burden back down the passageway.

- A Fistful of Dollars novel, chapter 13