Sometimes, after a long but successful hunt, a bounty feels the satisfaction of finally getting to squeeze the trigger on his rifle and see the kid he was after roll out of the saddle. And it never ceases to amaze him, the power he and his rifle have from tremendous distances. Just think about it... you're the hunter and the young buck you're after is of the human kind. He's on horseback and over a quarter mile out there. Hell, you'd be lucky to close and that's even with the powerful scope mounted on the man-killing weapon. Then there's the matter of how much the heavy bullet will drop in elevation over that distance. It all comes down to your experience, skill and luck. But you've gotta try. This is the closest you've been to 'em in days. It's near the limit of rifle's effective "kill range" even for a fifty-caliber. And even if you hit the fucker you know the slug, weighing over an ounce and a half, won't exit even a skinny body like this one.
So you aim high, to the upper chest area. BOOOOOOOOOOM. As always, you feel the somewhat painful punch to your shoulder as your entire body is rocked back. The reverberation of the gunshot echos off the walls of the canyon as you regain your footing and again use the scope of the rifle, this time for magnification alone. "Damn, I missed 'em." Hey, kid, not so quick. So you continue to watch. Maybe another five seconds pass. Then it looks like the kid is trying to pinch his legs against the sides of the saddle. Naturally, you can't hear the squeaking sound, but it's loud. Poor kid. He's apparently trying to remain in the saddle by pinching his legs together. Yeah, chap and saddle leather squeaks like hell when twisted against one another. Then you see what appears to be a red spot in his lower belly or gut area. And you see his body double over as if he's convulsing. Fuck yeah, looks as if his abdominal muscles are responding to the massive damage to that area. Then, as if in slow motion, he slides off the saddle. Got 'em. ya got the kid. He now lies spread eagle on his back. He draws one leg up and down a few times, causing his boot heel and spur to dig a shallow trench into the dirt. Then he's motionless.
And now you've finally arrived at the scene. Bitchen ain't it? The look of disbelief is frozen on his face. Hell yes. The kid probably didn't understand at first what felt like being kicked in the belly by a mule. But then the burning sensation and that heavy lump buried deep inside 'em. He probably knew that he was bleeding out fast when he started choking on his own blood and then blacking out. And now, Snipe, you can claim victory. The young bounty hunter has had only a few kills in his life so far and this was one of the best. In triumph, he plants a boot on the body and for a few seconds thinks he can feel some of his kill's muscles still twitching. Sure, he probably is. The shock to the body when taking a fifty-caliber slug makes all the nerves and muscles go haywire and that doesn't stop right away. Of course all of this has gotten Snipe horny as hell. He admires the sexy looking entrance wound, nearly the size of a poker chip. His boy-toy is so stiff that he has trouble getting it out of his skintight leather Levi's. "Yeah," he thinks to himself, "gotta get me one of them new leather cock sheaths." Then he starts stroking it. It doesn't take long before his thick load is squirting out of his piss hole onto his kill's face and his own boot.
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