The Greatest Western Writer Of The 21st Century When The Bullets Start To Fly Smoke Jensen sat in a cave and boiled the last of his coffee. He figured he was in Idaho-somewhere south of Montpelier-but he was certain about only two things: he was cold and he was being hunted by a small army of men. Smoke knew why he was cold-it was winter. He just didn't have a clear idea of why anyone was after him. He was soon to find out that he'd unwittingly...