He was a boy when the first shots were fired. By the time he reached the border, he would be a man . . .



On a hot West Texas night, Hank Littleton was riding hard towards the Mexican border, caught up in a swirl of violence and deceit he did not yet fully understand. It began when two men murdered Hank's grandfather in cold blood and started south with a load of hijacked gold. All he had to rely on was his rage and his skill with a Henry rifle.