The Comanche wheeled his pony round and charged towards the man who stood between him and his dream of war. The long war lance glinted bright in the afternoon sun, its razor-sharp tip pointing straight at the half-breed's heart.
The man was called Matthew Gunn, though some called him Breed. And they avoided him, for Breed meant danger! Breed, the avenging warrior who hates Indian and white man with equal ferocity.
Now he stood alone on the blood-stained sand and waited. Death shone in his pale blue eyes and a cold rage filled his heart. The Comanche was nothing to him, merely an obstacle blocking his trail of revenge—an obstacle to be removed...