Man with No Name- Dynamite Kill

It was almost as if the stranger had expected the man to be there. His eyes flicked towards Martin and this was the only movement he made. And when Paco stepped out on the other side of the rock, pistol in one hand, stick of dynamite in the other, it was again only the eyes which moved.
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Paco turned surprised eyes downwards at his gun hand and Martin flicked a glance in the direction of his colleague on the other side of the rock. It was all the time the American needed. His hands disappeared under the poncho, emerged a split second later with two pistols, ready cocked. They exploded simultaneously. Martin died without a sound, pitching forward on to his face with a bullet in his heart. Paco screamed, had still been looking at his hand when the bullet tore a long groove along the back of it, causing him to drop the revolver. Then he looked a the Man With No Name, saw a cruel smile on the shadowed face.

“Señor,” he pleaded. “I warn you to leave. Martin made me do this thing. I did not want it. Now I tell you that Ramón knows of this place. He is coming with many men. If you go now, head for the border, I will tell Ramón that …”

The American swung both his guns close together and both exploded as one sound, this report drowned by the roar of the detonated dynamite which tore off Paco’s arm and ripped away the side of his face, tossed his limp body several yards away from where he had been standing.

- A Fistful of Dollars novel, chapter 21