Piccadilly Publishing





The hardest winter in years was closing in fast as big, raw-boned John Cutler came down from the Big Horn Mountains. After months of man-killing work, the taciturn, leathery hunter of men and animals wanted nothing more than a bottle and a woman. He sure as hell didn't want to tangle with the wild Calhoon Clan, but they forced it. And what do you know? It turned out to be the deadliest mistake they ever made ...

Published December 01, 2013
Recommended Price: $0.99/ £0.99 (exc VAT)


John Cutler trapped and killed rogue animals, For years, he'd been a Federal Marshal in Indian Territory before he married and retired, buying a ranch in Arizona. It was a rogue grizzly that changed his life. A big, snake headed monster with a silver blaze that was killing cattle, a lot on his range. He put out traps and got a hit, But before he found it, the big bear gnawed off the trapped paw and went on a berserk rage. While out hunting the grizzly, the animal showed up at his ranch and attacked his pregnant wife. Cutler rode in just in time to catch her dying breath about the bear. He immediately went on the hunt, following the beast until a blizzard caused him to lose the trail. That was five years ago and he still hunted the bear. Unlike most bears, it stayed on the move, killing anything that crossed his path. Cutler seemed to be always one step behind, But he refused to give up. He made his living hunting and killing rogue animals with bounties on them.
Written by the best-selling author of FARGO and SUNDANCE.

Published July 01, 2013
Recommended Price: $0.99/ £0.99 (exc VAT)

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John Cutler stood, at full height, something better than six feet, with broad, sloping shoulders and a barrel-chest tapering to lean waist and slim hips. The shaggy hair spilling beneath the dusty, flat-crowned sombrero was the color of a raven's wing, and, though he was only in his early thirties, it was already faintly threaded with gray. His brows were great black marks above deepset eyes the color of gunmetal, the planes of his big-nosed face rough and angular, his skin burnt to the color of rawhide by a life in the sun. He wore a filthy blue work shirt, a calfskin vest, jeans, fringed shotgun chaps, and flat-heeled boots made for walking as much as for riding. A holstered .44 Colt with a strap to hold it in its scabbard for rough riding swung from a cartridge belt around his waist, and on his other hip was a Case sheath knife.

  The series was continued written by H.V. ELKIN. Click here.