WHITE APACHE SERIES
WHITE APACHE---10 books in a series as realistic as the best of the West should be.

Taggart didn't live to kill, but he had to kill to live.

BLOOD BOUNTY

   Reaching the wagon, White Apache ducked under it as three soldiers on foot appeared on the run and blasted away.  Their shots chipped off slivers of wood.  White Apache rolled to the right, came out from under the wagon, and dashed to the rear.  He knew they would look underneath and spot his legs, so he swiftly climbed onto the wheel, using the spokes as steps, high enough so they couldn't see him.
   Perched on the wheel, White Apache transferred the Winchester to his left hand and drew a Colt.  No sooner had he done so than one of the foot soldiers barreled around the tail end of the wagon, his rifle leveled at waist height.  Too late, the man saw White Apache.  A bullet through the right eye flattened him where he stood.
   Someone cursed on the other side.  White Apache twisted.   Another soldier was coming around in front of the team of oxen.  He, too, was looking low when he should have been looking higher up.  White Apache banged off two shots.  The soldier jerked to the impact, staggered, and keeled over.

THE TRACKERS

   The shots came closer than any so far to nailing Clay Taggart.  Two whizzed past his cheek.  The third smacked into the dirt inches above his head.  Clay paid them no heed.  He had spotted the officer in charge of the patrol.  Hastily aligning his sights, he held his breath a moment, then stroked the trigger.
   When Taggart ran out of targets, he spied a wide cleft nearby and threw himself into it as a ragged volley peppered the bench.  Then the volley faded, and he peeked about the rim.  the troopers were swiftly ringing the bluff.  In another minute they would have it surrounded.
   He was trapped.