Blood Money: The Collected Placido Geist Bounty Hunter Stories

Simon Straw smiled. It was a disarming smile, almost apologetic. It wasn’t meant to give insult. His stance was relaxed, practically nerveless, none of his muscles tensed, his hands at his sides, the elbows slightly bent, like a man ready to pick up a glass. His gun was worn high on the hip, a .44 Remington single-action. “I’m here for you, old man,” he said to Placido Geist.