Man with No Name- Spurs Reflection

  He finished tying the buckskin thong but remained in a half-crouch, his slitted gaze fixed on the dead man's gleaming spurs. It was not a look of envy or admiration but one of grim intent.

  The polished rowels made perfect mirrors and one of them reflected the image of a man peering over the top of a rock behind him. The stranger's right hand was using the rock as a rest to steady the pistol he was leveling at the hunter's back.

  The Man With No Name whirled around, spinning away from his horse's flank, tossing the poncho over his shoulder and drawing, all in one lightning move. As his gun cleared the holster, his left palm was already slapping the hammer. Two shots crashed almost as one but the stranger's was wild, the reflex of a man already dead with a bullet hole between his eyes.

- A Coffin Full of Dollars, chapter 1