bullet now or a hangrope later?
“Been a long trail, McCabe,” the tall man said.
“You lousy bounty huntin’ bastard!” Deuce McCabe sneered, his voice loaded with venom. “Goddamn, I’ve been a fool! I knew someone was followin’ me — had a hunch aways back.”
“Now, McCabe,” Rodd Lawson said, “we’ll do this nice and easy. Unbuckle your gunrig and let it drop . . . and no fool moves!”
McCabe looked into the cold eyes of the man who had trailed him for hundreds of miles. He saw no mercy in those eyes. To Lawson, McCabe was merely a face on a Wanted poster, a bounty he aimed to collect.
“Makes no difference to me whether you come back to Lemo with me dead or alive,” Lawson drawled softly. “Get the same reward either way. So unbuckle your gunbelt or I might decide to plug you for the hell of it — it’d make it a lot easier for me on the way back.”