Crazy Wolf: The Six-Gun Superhero Book One: The Six-Gun Superhero, #1

By Brian Manning

After his father's death, Miles Storch followed in his footsteps, becoming a bounty hunter to bring down the toughest outlaws. Only, Miles has abilities that his father wasn't born with, making him much better at taking on the more dangerous jobs. When he comes across an outlaw listed in an old journal, he discovers that there was more to his father's past than Miles realized. Something that got him killed. Can Miles pick up where his father left off, or will he end up in the plot next to the former bounty hunter?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Manning
• Release date: Jul 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386987116

Book preview

CRAZY WOLF

The Six-Gun Superhero Book One

by Brian Manning

Copyright © 2017 Brian Manning

All rights reserved.

CHAPTER

One

Crazy Wolf, Claude Batten, stood in the middle of the well-worn dirt road. A broad-shouldered man, thick, with heavily muscled shoulders. An imposing figure donning a Stetson hat that covered a swath of slicked back, salt and pepper hair. More salt than pepper nowadays.

This particular hill posed a problem for any team of horses. The path too steep and wound to build much speed at the crest. Claude chose this spot on this road for a reason. It afforded him a great view of anyone approaching, forcing them to approach slowly. The boulders and shrubbery also gave his two-man crew plenty of options for hiding.

Claude cradled a double-barreled shotgun in the crooks of his elbows. He finished rolling a cigarette and pinched it between his lips while resting the firearm on his shoulder to retrieve a match. The clip-clop of hooves and the creaking of coach wheels grew louder as he struck the match off of the bottom of his boot. Using the fingers of the same hand, Claude shielded the flame and lit his cigarette with practiced ease before shaking the match to extinguish it.

The outlaw cocked his head to the side, keeping one eye on the coach from under the low brim of his hat. The driver, a burly old man with a tobacco-stained beard, pulled on the reigns to stop the horses. An angry fellow sat next to the driver, coach gun resting on his lap, aimed in Claude’s direction. He looked at the stranger blocking the road, squinting his eyes to peel away the glare of the setting sun. A hint of recognition pulled his mouth into a sneer.

Claude Batten, the man said, holding his shotgun at a low ready position.

You heard of me, huh? He smirked and plucked the cigarette from chapped lips and blew out a long stream of smoke.

Crazy Wolf Claude. ‘Course we heard of you, the driver said. He spat to the side as a trail of tobacco stained saliva added to the coloring of his beard.

The man riding shotgun readjusted the weapon in his grip. You’re worth two hundred dollars. Must say, we weren’t expecting this kind of payday to just fall into our laps.

If that’s the case, then perhaps you should lower that there scattergun. Wouldn’t want to risk losing out on that tin.

Two hundred, dead or alive. He pulled back both hammers of his weapon.

Hmm, guess you got the upper hand, then.