Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman

By John J. Law

The bounty hunter had just hitched his horse and was about to settle down to the business of securing a proper place to stay and recharge, when a woman approached him.
"Hola Gringo." she said.
The bounty hunter turned and saw that she was young and quite attractive. Her long, dark hair flowed naturally from her head to her shoulders. Her eyes were large and quite inviting. Her lips were full and red. The dress she wore was not revealing, but hugged enough of her body to indicate a shapely form. 
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Hulsey Books
• Release date: Dec 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223216315

Book preview

Chapter One: Dia De Los Muertos

To say that the bounty hunter was exhausted was an understatement. He had been riding for what seemed like an eternity, his clothes were all dusty and smelled of the trail, and his lips were dry and parched. He needed a good drink, a good soak in a bath and much more to invigorate his weary self.

His real name had been lost to so much time and endless gunfights, collecting bounties large and small. There were times that even he could not recall it. Many times, it seemed as though the bounty hunter was lost in his task of hunting down lawbreakers. Many times, this seemed like a never-ending task that drowned out his own humanity. Sometimes he wondered if he still knew who the real man was behind the hired gun.

These existential thoughts floated around the bounty hunter's head as he rode his equally-tired steed forward. He was actually not surprised by these thoughts popping into his head anymore. Perhaps it was because he was so tired and thirsty, and the sun was so hot. Perhaps it was from the constant violence and death that he had witnessed in his life. Whatever the cause, the bounty hunter had learned to accept these thoughts as they popped up. They were a common occurrence during the slower moments of his violent life. This was the life he had chosen and there was no turning back from it now.

He kept his steed moving at a constant, deliberate pace. After some time, the bounty hunter noticed it. He saw something in the distance. There was the faintest outlines of man-made structures, pueblos made from sand and stone. He could also hear the faintest sound of human activity. The bounty hunter instantly recognized that there was a town in the distance. This gave his weary spirit much encouragement. Finally, there would be a chance to rest his weary bones from all the travel and fighting.

As he approached the town, the sights and sounds grew larger and louder with more clarity. He could see the pueblos clearly now. There was a long and wide main road where there were several merry makers. The sound of guitars, banjos and other musical instruments rang though the air. The people laughed and danced to the music while kids struggled to hit a pinata with candies inside. The people themselves wore loud and colorful costumes that seemed out of a fantasy tale. Masks were the order of the day, and there were even some walking skeletons moving around. Judging that the small town was close to the Mexican border, the bounty hunter instantly knew what this fiesta was all about.

Dia De Los Muertos. Day of the Dead. Can't hear myself think with all this sound an' fury. They're bound to wake the dead themselves with all this racket. the bounty hunter said.

The bounty hunter was more than a little familiar with the custom. This was