Love On The Frontier (A Bounty Hunter's Tale) Book I

Chapter One | The Bountiful Bounty

'The Hound'

Arizona 1873

Clayton whistled an old tune while riding down one of the many desiccated valleys in the Arizona plains. Born and raised in South Texas, Clayton Hardin came to pick up the dangerous profession of bounty hunting. As of recent, he has been on the trail of the two murderous bandits, Bo Clancy and his accomplice Boone Holliday. The two bandits are half-brothers, although, you would have never guessed it due to their limited physical resemblances.

Clayton had been following the two brothers for the past three days, which is not an uncommon length of tracking. Not only is he interested in collecting the bounty by claiming their dead bodies, but if he can be led to their stash of stolen goods he can receive a pretty heavy reward for turning in the stolen treasures to the authorities. However, by the looks of it, Bo and Boone will not be returning to their hideout anytime soon.

With grunt and a sigh, Clayton hopped down from his quarter horse, Buck. He led the faithful stallion to a nearby freshwater stream. "There you go, buddy," he muttered as Buck leisurely lapped up the clear crisp water. A water break was much needed as the temperature in Arizona had reached its peak. 

While tracking the bandits Bo and Boone, Clayton made sure to remain a careful distance. Clayton is an excellent shot and thanks to living with the Comanche Indians for an extensive period of his life, he had become an incredible tracker. For these reasons Clayton has had many successful captures within his career. His name is now feared amongst all bandits in the mid-west and beyond. This has earned him the sobriquet: Clay 'The Hound' Hardin. 'If The Hound is on your tail, you'll never know it until it's too late.'

Clayton removed his tan Stetson from his head and knelt down beside Buck at the stream. He splashed some of the cool water on his tanned face before quenching his thirst. He ran his hands over his sandy colored beard, making a mental note that he needed to shave. Typically he did not let his facial hair grow out, but he had been on the road for several days non-stop. He had not the time to drop into a barber shop and his very own razor would not do him any good as it had grown quite dull.

While day Clayton dreamed of good food and a warm bed, he suddenly heard the sound of several gun shots. The gunfire rang loud enough for him to determine the exact proximity. He promptly jumped to his feet, putting his hand on the hilt of one of his pistols. It was clear by the multiple shots back and forth that these gunslingers were not hunters. It was without a doubt a gun fight.

Four pistols and a shot gun, he calculated. Bo and Boone must be raiding a nearby home. "Dammit..." Clayton swore under his breath. 

He should have been watching the two bandits more closely or even killed them before they had the chance to attack an innocent family. However, due to his own greed, Clayton had instead followed the bandits in hopes to be led to the hidden fortune. Instead now there are people likely murdered.

Clayton rushed over and swung himself upon Buck's back. "Yah!" He firmly kicked Bucks flanks. With a grunt and a neigh, Buck galloped onward at breakneck speed toward the violent altercation up ahead.

Clayton had the reigns in one hand and his pistol in the other. Once he neared the commotion the gunfire suddenly ceased. Immediately he slowed Buck, the soft ground muffled the sound of his hooves. Once close enough Clayton hid Buck out near a thicket of trees before stealthily advancing the rest of the way on foot. He could smell the gun powder in the air and hear the gruff voices of the familiar bandits arguing.

He peeked out from the trees to see Bo Clancy dragging a white man by his feet over to the stables. The man's eyes were wide open, but unseeing, and blood poured out from his chest and abdomen. The man was most definitely dead. The regret instantly began to strangle Clayton's chest.