Man with No Name- Embers Shot

“Grab him!” Canuse yelled. “That’s enough out of him. Tie one of those thongs around each wrist and then tie the two thongs together so it’s like handcuffs. Hurry up, you dummies! Don’t just stand there.”

“No,” the hunter said. “Don’t just stand there. Lie down and roll on the floor.”

He brought his left hand around, holding the double-barreled derringer with the huge bore. His first shot went into the heart of the fire, sending a cloud of burning embers and wood fragments flying over and onto the gang.

The slug ricocheted from the rock floor and lifted a second cloud, scattering most of the fire over the howling group.

His shot from the second barrel took Canuse squarely between the eyes.

The big man was still falling when the hunter dived and snatched his gun from the other’s belt. He landed on his shoulder, rolled and came up fanning the hammer of the deadly forty-four. The five had their guns out but at the moment they were dancing, howling, rolling, beating at the flames started in their clothing or branded into exposed flesh by the flying embers. The shots made one deafening crescendo in the confines of the echoing cavern. When the echoes had finally died, the hunter got warily to his feet.

The caution was needless. Six hardcases would never again be a menace to anyone on this earth.

- The Devil’s Dollar Sign, chapter 5