Hank Hazelwood, aka the White Hood, was seemingly fearless, as was his gang. Not only did he laugh in the face of danger, but he was one lucky outlaw. Pinned down in an alley by fifteen Pinkerton detectives never slowed the White Hood down. He simply threw a lighted stick of dynamite at them, after he shot and killed one of the agents.
During their getaway, their intention being heading back into New Mexico, the gang spotted a lone rider trailing behind them; a bounty hunter by the name of Clay Barton. Still, Hazelwood felt no fear. With determination to end the bounty hunter's chase, the White Hood led his gang to a mound of rocks and dirt that seemingly had sprung up from nowhere, in the shape of an Indian legend, the Thunderbird. Nearly the entire gang was wary of the haunting feeling of the formation, all but Hazelwood. And he was soon to learn that Clay Barton, the bounty hunter, was the least of his worries.
During their getaway, their intention being heading back into New Mexico, the gang spotted a lone rider trailing behind them; a bounty hunter by the name of Clay Barton. Still, Hazelwood felt no fear. With determination to end the bounty hunter's chase, the White Hood led his gang to a mound of rocks and dirt that seemingly had sprung up from nowhere, in the shape of an Indian legend, the Thunderbird. Nearly the entire gang was wary of the haunting feeling of the formation, all but Hazelwood. And he was soon to learn that Clay Barton, the bounty hunter, was the least of his worries.
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