Tucker: A Novel
Louis L'Amour
Language: English
Pages: 240
ISBN: 0553250221
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
“If a man won’t fight for what is rightly his, then he ain’t much account.” With this challenge from his dying father, young Shell Tucker rode out after three men who had stolen the twenty thousand dollars his father was carrying. Two of the men he hunted, Doc Sites and Kid Reese, were his friends. Dreaming of adventure, Tucker had wanted to join their gang. But now, with his father gone and the people back home desperately in need of the proceeds from the cattle drive, Shell was determined to uphold his father’s reputation and recover their money. He knew the odds were against him. Finding his friends would be difficult. Getting the money back would be nearly impossible.
The Drawing of the Three (The Dark Tower, Book 2)
Doubtful Canon (Leisure Western)
A Million Ways to Die in the West
Big Sky Blue (Shades of Blue Trilogy, Book 1)
Around the middle, but the eyes that measured me as I went into the room were sharp and steady. “Shell, meet Do Silva. He’ll be riding with you.” “We can use him,” I said, but I was not happy over it, and he noticed it. He looked at me thoughtfully. “You do not like me, amigo?” “I’ve got nothing against you,” I told him. “You look like quite a man. Only I was on this deal alone and was planning to handle it alone.” He shrugged. “I can listen.” I hesitated. “Well, I don’t know how I can.
Cliffs. The sun was low, not yet down, but the coolness had begun and I could now ride on, but I was not pleased by this meeting. The man on the crow-bait had pulled up on the trail, waiting for me. His hands were in plain view, and he showed no danger signs, but I was wary. Swinging into the saddle, I walked my horse down to the trail. “Howdy!” His eyes were a watery blue, but there was a sharpness to them, and I was sure he had missed no detail of my outfit. “Travelin’ fur?” “Walker’s Pass.
Or two seemed right; sometimes a whole sentence fell into place for me. They led several spare horses, and suddenly a slim warrior rode over to me with a horse, and catching hold on the mane, I swung to its back. They led off swiftly, and clinging to the mane, I rode with them. Their village was miles away, but somehow I clung to the horse and kept on with them. When we came to the village at last, I saw that it was made up of perhaps two dozen lodges huddled in a cluster on a bench above a.
And I knew the tracks of that line-back dun as I knew the cracks in my own hands. The grulla I rode was a good horse. The Pah-ute had given me a good one because he knew I had a long chase ahead of me, and he knew what sort of horse a man needed when the trail stretched on for uncounted miles. Its gait was smooth. That horse was no showboat, but he’d get in there and stay until the sun was gone and the moon was up. When I came down out of those bleak, bitter mountains with the taste of alkali.
Station. It was getting on for evening and I was hunting a place to stay. The station stood in the open without so much as a cottonwood tree nearby. Just a stone corral, the stone house and the trail that bent in toward its door. There was a water trough and I rode up to it. A man peered from the doorway then came over. “Howdy! Passin’ through?” “Maybe. Have you got some good food in there?” “Sort of. Fact is, I’ve got me a new cook, if she’ll stay. That’s what I came out for. She’s lookin’.