The front door of the bank is ripped apart by a shotgun blast, showering the patrons in glass, chunks of wood and splinters. A lone desperado steps in brandishing a six shooter and a shotgun. Strapped across his chest are two heavy leather bandoliers loaded with shells. He smiles at the cowering tellers and asks them to kindly fill a bag up with the cash on hand. 

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Ned normally carried an old Sharps Rifle and his shells on a bandolier. He didn’t like wearing a gun belt, but the Sharps was beyond repair and he had to go into town. He took the holster off an old gun belt and slipped it over the bandolier and slung it over his shoulder. The holster hung off the strap near his hip. Dropping in an old Army Revolver, he was ready. 

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With a carbine slung over his back the Hunter climbs off his horse and walks toward a small wooden shack nestled on the edge of the trees. He stops a fifty feet from the front door, reaches over his shoulder and pulls the carbine from its scabbard, spin cocking it as he takes aim. The Hunter calls out to the shack, demanding that Leonard Squibs show himself. There are a few moments of silence then the sound of a shotgun being slammed shut. Then the door bursts open and Leonard shows himself with both barrels blazing. The Hunter cuts him down with a single shot from the carbine. He spins it one more time, and then slides it back into the scabbard.

When packing a rifle or shotgun into unfriendly territory you need the Grizzly Bounty. 

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