The Sackett Brand (The Sacketts #10)

The Sackett Brand (The Sacketts #10)

Louis L'Amour

Language: English

Pages: 151

ISBN: 0553276859

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


In The Sackett Brand, Louis L’Amour spins the story of a courageous man who must face overwhelming odds to track down a killer.

Tell Sackett and his bride, Ange, came to Arizona to build a home and start a family. But on Black Mesa something goes terribly wrong. Tell is ambushed and badly injured. When he finally manages to drag himself back to where he left Ange, she is gone. Desperate, cold, hungry, and with no way to defend himself, Tell is stalked like a wounded animal. Hiding from his attackers, his rage and frustration mounting, he tries to figure out who the men are, why they are trying to kill him, and what has happened to his wife. Discovering the truth will be risky. And when he finally does, it will be their turn to run.

Robert B. Parker's Ironhorse

Love's Unending Legacy (Love Comes Softly, Book 5)

The Fire of Greed (Bladen Cole: Bounty Hunter)

Fair Blows the Wind (Talon and Chantry, Book 1)

The Rise of Ransom City (Half-Made World)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But she was gone. Now, more even than care for my wounds I wanted weapons. Above all, I was a fighting man … it was deeply grained in my being, a part of me. Hurt, I would fight; dying, I would still try to fight. A quiet man I was, and not one to provoke a quarrel, but if set upon I would fight back. I do not say this in boasting, for it was as much a part of me as the beating of my heart. It was bred in the blood-line of those from whom I come, and I could not be other than I am. This it.

And it was there I went, edging along, for I had to go slow, and needed to for the quietness my going called for. There were no big boulders here, no gullies or cracks, and no brush at all. There was just rugged desert ground with a few places here and there, only inches deep, and scattered rocks no bigger than your head. Tufts of bunch grass grew among the yucca, but nothing larger. First I rubbed my rifle barrel all over with dust to take the shine from it. My clothes, so stained with dust.

They might kill, but now I could be sure they’d know the Sackett men before the summer was gone. There was no doubt in me that I would die, for there was no way out that I could see. For minutes, long minutes, I lay perfectly still, right in the open with those hunting men about me, knowing my only safety lay in their searching minds, for it was up on the higher ground they looked now, and not right there below them. Suddenly I heard the beat of hoofs on the trail. Riders coming! Then a harsh.

Whirly there before me, kind of shimmering, with the shadows of men beyond it. “She never had much, Mr. Allen,” I said. “I’ll never forget the first time we met, high up in the Colorado mountains. She said, ‘I’m Ange Kerry, and I’m most glad you found me.’ It was a heart-tearing thing, the way she spoke, and the littleness and loneliness of her. “I hoped to make it up to her. I hoped to bring her happiness in this fine new land where the pines stood tall and the water ran cold over the rocks. I.

Dark, and there was no smell of fire, no sound or movement. Crawling from the deerskin bed where I had been lying, I looked all around. I was alone. They had cared for me, left me, and gone on about their business. I remembered something Cap Rountree had told me once up in Colorado—that there was no accounting for Indians. Most times, finding a white man alone and helpless as I was, they would have killed him without hesitation, unless he was worth torturing first. It was a good chance that.

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