Bullets on the Wind

There's a price on his head. $12,000. Dead pays the same as alive.

Jim Bannister has been running near to half his life. Long enough to know a man don't outrun what's behind him. Only puts distance on it.

Sometimes.

The land's wide, but not wide enough.

He rides into Cabra Springs with nothing—no coin, no friends, no place to turn. Just the weight of what he's done and the quiet knowing that men are coming.

Hard men.

Men who follow tracks through rock and dust. Men who don't ask questions. Men who finish things.

They'll find him. It's only a matter of time.

Folks in town look at him a second too long. They've heard. A bounty like that don't stay secret. Turns whispers into greed. Turns neighbors into hunters.

Out here, a man might sell you for less.

Bannister figures he's got two choices: keep moving and die tired… or trust someone and die a fool.

Either way, the ground's waiting.

And it don't much care how a man gets there.