Trask had ridden up into the high country after yet another deadly duel seeking a place where he might find peace. Suddenly collapsing in agony, the gunfighter realized for the first time that he has been wounded. He tried in vain to reach his famed guns which hung over the neck of his stallion in hand-tooled holsters branded with the name of Trask. Lying helpless on the ground, he heard movement in the forest. Something was coming towards him and it would not be the last thing to seek him out during the following twenty-four hours. Would he live to fight another day?