SUDDEN. A name to be feared from the Mexican border to the Black Hills of Dakota. Now his search for two men, Peterson and Webb, was spoken of in hushed tones. Who were they? What crime had they committed? Why was he looking for them?

Sudden was thrown once more into the seething cauldron of range war. But this time, there was a difference. The time, the range robbers, the two men he was looking for, were his quarry!

The word had filtered out that Sudden was dead - and there no one around to contradict it. Men who had cringed before, swaggered how; others boasted of their encounters with Sudden, the coward.

Only one man stayed quiet: a tall, saturnine feller wearing two guns tied low. When someone asked him his name, he said: "James Green" James Green alias Sudden. And when an old friend needed help, he strapped on those two well-kept guns, and reached for his hat. Now the die was cast - and Sudden was on the move again!

There was a reward of five thousand dollars for the man who could bring Barbara Davis out of Apacheria alive. Every outlaw, gunman, and scalphunter in the south-west had drifted in to Tucson, then out into Apache country, lured by the dream of easy gold. The Apaches killed some of them slowly and horribly; but still they came.

Governor Bleke knew unless the girl was brought out soon, he would have a full-scale Indian war on his hands. He sent for the one man who might be able to do it. A tall, slow-drawling man who wore his six-guns tied low and looked as if he knew how to use them.

A Texas outlaw on the run: SUDDEN!

When Jim Green took on the job of Marshal in the roaring hell town of Lawless, he was told it was plain suicide and he soon knew he'd tackled a tough one. Border bandits bushwhacked its citizens, landgrabbers plagued its oldest ranches. Green knew what he had to do something. But he had no idea just how tough a job it was,

The he discovered there was a man pirating around the town robbing and murdering, an outlaw on a black stallion and calling himself 'Sudden.' Everyone in Lawless figured that Mr. Sudden needed hanging - all except Jim Green. He wanted to meet this Sudden personally over six-guns. Because Jim Green happened to be the real Sudden and he wanted to talk with the imposter ... a talk which he reckoned would finish - sudden.

Along the far reaches of the Chisholm Trail, from deadly Kansas, along hidden outlaw trails, the tall, mysterious man named James Green stopped to ask the same questions, then moved on.

A legacy of hatred left to him by a dying man had sent him in search of two men ... and a final, deadly reckoning.

As he rode he earned a nickname that was whispered whenever men talked about gunfighters, and whenever violence ran rampant in dusty streets.

They called him Sudden, and his bitter quest was relentless.

The gunman slouched against the bar, two guns hanging on his hips, the holsters tied. Tense moments ticked by, then he straightened up and raised his glass.

'Here's to yaller!' he barked 'Yaller liquor, yaller metal, yaller-hoe gals, and to hell with Green!'

The words struck the room to silence, which was broken shortly by the scrape of a chair. Then a man spoke. 'My name is Green,' Sudden said mildly. 'You wouldn't know, of course.'

'Shore I knew it, an' I'm sayin' it again: to hell with Green.'

And his hands flashed towards his guns like outspread talons...

He was a silent man. He wore two guns tied low, the butts worn as smooth as the leather they nestled in.

He was a tall, capable man heading into Arizona badlands, moving towards trouble.

He was James Green: gunfighter, killer, murderer - a man with the kind of reputation that made men flinch when his eyes met theirs, that stilled hands on their way to holstered Colts.

He was an outlaw, heading for a deadly double agent's game in an outpost of Hell itself...

He had killed his best friend ... that it was an accident didn't matter. Neither did the howling mob who aimed to string him up for his mistake. What mattered was that he, Jim Green, had killed his friend.

He had to move on and just hope that one day he'd be able to live with himself. And never use those guns again on any man.

That was his decision, and he lived by it. Until the time came when he had to use them, and use them sudden.

Dan Dover's outfit, the Circle Dot, was a target for bushwhackers and rustlers, so he figured he'd better get some help to run them off. The stranger from Texas looked like a good man to have around, so Dover hired him.

Pretty soon, when the fires of a range war painted the prairies the colour of blood, he was sure glad he had taken him on - even though he found out there was a warrant for murder out for the lean, capable Jim Green, otherwise known as Sudden!

Nick Drait was being pushed off his range. His men were being shot at; one of them was bushwhacked fifty yards from the ranch house.

He needed a good, capable replacement. When the stranger came to see him, Drait noted the two tied-down Colts, the handles rubbed smooth with use. He hired the man on the spot.

The stranger gave his name as Jim Green, and that was enough for Drait.

He knew he'd hired himself a handy man when it came to shooting, for he knew Jim Green was ... Sudden!