Publisher's Synopsis
A thrilling Western Novel that begins it Wild West Adventure in Sweden. The only thing the assassin wanted was to escape at all costs. Sven moves in closer. What he sees gives in to the creeps. Red blood mixed in with snow, dead wolves, clothes ripped to shreds. Sven looks over the scene and shakes his head, "terrible way to die." I am searching for a band of Apaches who attacked a government wagon train of four wagons killing six troopers and burning the wagons and taking the horses and what supplies they wanted and burn the rest. Opening my saddlebags, I grab the coffee and hardtack and set it down. What else? Oh, water. I reached down to pick up my canteen and turn around. Standing across from the fire is Two Hands, the Mescalero Apache with a rabbit in one hand and a Winchester in his other. "Do you have a name?" "Jackson Firethorn""Where were you born?""Good question.""Would Jackson Firethorn be your birth name by chance." "No." "How old are you.?" "Seventeen, I think. You can ask Sister Hightower, she ay know the answer." "Let me get this straight, you don't know where you were born, your age you are not sure of, and Jackson Firethorn is not your real name. And maybe, talking to Nun she may have some answers Is this correct?" "Sister Hightower, she is not a Nun, there is a difference." "Are you an orphan?" "Yes." "Sign, here."Jackson Firethorn, an ex-Pony Express Rider, wounded in the line of duty by a Cheyenne Dog Soldier, and in the eyes of many, a legend. And now, an unemployed legend.
