The Guns Of Infinity: Shoot 'Em T'a Hell!

The heavy Iron Gate swung open with a jaw clenching screech! Luis McCall stepped through the opening and turned an eye back to Huntsville Territorial Prison for the last time. It had been a long, hard two years behind those prison walls, but that was over. What he needed now was a horse and a gun! He hadn’t forgotten; There were men needed killin’ for the sins they’d committed, and the black hate he felt for a man named Clemens was about to be unleashed! She was gone... A time that had slipped from his grasp, sifting through his fingers like the coarse desert sand. But, McCall was dead still set to avenge her! He tipped his hat in the direction of Austin when he saw a dot on the horizon. A lone rider was approaching—a horse in tow behind him... Yuma, Arizona -- 1877 There was no doubt in Lawson's mind that the man was dead. He'd given him every chance to drop it and move on, but the crazy-eyed stranger would have nothing to do with it. Not willing to take the chance of being shot in the back at a future time, Lawson chose to end it right then and there. Lawson had learned a long time ago about turning his back on a wounded man. The bullet he'd taken in the back four years before in Wichita had left it's nickel-sized scar as a reminder. That bullet had nearly killed him. When he'd recovered he'd made a vowel to himself to never turn his back on a hostile man again—and he didn't! He showed no mercy when being challenged by another gun and he never gambled with his own life. In his mind there was a reason why the gun was called a six-shooter; Apparently the one-shooter of years past had needed some re-thinking and Lawson appreciated the odds that six bullets gave a man, especially when staying alive was his main interest. He thumbed open the loading-gate on his Colt .45, turned the ratcheting cylinder, dropped each smoking casing into the dust of the street; the brass casings chimed almost musically as they pinged, one by one, and bounced around at his feet. A gritty dust blew in... swirled in circles along the streets length as the gunmen from Texas stood gazing at the dead man who was now leaking a river of blood from the holes his .45 slugs had just drilled through his body. A crowd was gathering as Lawson emptied the spent casings from the smoking revolver and was replacing them with fresh ones.