"Just call me Clint," he told the town the day he rode in and Wolflock would never be the same again. To some he looked like a drifter, while others were sure he spelled trouble. Whatever he was, Clint was different than anyone they'd seen before. Here was a man with a past who'd come to their town to avenge a great wrong. Clint would either succeed, or go down shooting. He was that breed of man.