Things were too quiet when the Gunsmith rode into Geneva, Texas. He'd never seen a town where the only thing that moved through the streets at midday was tumbleweed. The liveryman, barkeep, and sheriff were friendly enough, but their hands shook when they drank their whiskey. The town stank of fear. Clint could smell the rotting stench of it. But he couldn't figure out what was behind it.

Then he discovered the truth: Nobody left Geneva, Texas... not alive, anyway. The town was being held hostage. Hidden gunmen lurked on every rooftop—tensed and ready to pump lead into anybody who made a lick of trouble. And the only way out of town was in a pine box. The Gunsmith had entered a powder keg... and was about to light a match that would turn Geneva into a fireball of blood, bullets, and vengeance...

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