Kid Montana #11

Kid Montana drifts into Tenstrike and runs headlong into Bessler, a ruthless mining camp boss who bankrolls the fastest guns in the west—and demands the young drifter either ride out or be carried out. When Kid Montana refuses to leave, he sets a daring plan in motion to turn Bessler's own greed-driven crew against him. By nightfall, Tenstrike is about to explode, and only one man will walk away.

When bushwhackers and dynamite start targeting independent miner Silver Minton, Kid Montana takes the case to heart—until he notices something doesn't quite add up about the attacks. His investigation into a supposed squeeze-out scheme by the big mining outfit Consolidated Ores Inc. uncovers a far more twisted truth that almost costs him his life in the mines.

Whitey Whiskers spots a hunting ground full of ducks and decides to try out his new rifle—despite the posted sign warning that duck hunting is forbidden with a fifty-dollar fine. When the sheriff catches him red-handed (or rather, duck-handed), Whitey finds himself owing money he doesn't have and facing fifty days of work to pay off the debt.

When a fugitive outlaw named Brock Harwig finds his hideout ranch claimed by an Eastern dude named Raintry, he expects an easy fight—but this tenderfoot fights back with surprising skill and conviction. As Harwig and his gang scheme to reclaim their headquarters through force, Raintry reveals he's tougher and better prepared than anyone bargained for, with allies of his own watching from the hills. This western showdown pits frontier ruthlessness against Eastern grit in a battle for control of the land.

Kid Montana stumbles into a conspiracy that reaches far beyond the frontier when he discovers a wagon train scout is actually smuggling Spencer carbines to Geronimo's Apaches. Taking the scout's place to investigate, Kid must outwit both the gun-running outfit and Apache war parties to get word to the cavalry before a deadly rendezvous can take place. It's a race against time through hostile territory, where one man's quick thinking and faster guns might be the only thing standing between the Southwest and an armed Apache uprising.