Texas law

     Bowdrie had lived long enough to know that killing was rarely a good thing, but in this town and this area, guns were the last court of appeal. He had appeared here in the name of Texas; now he had to make his final arrests.

    He knew the manner of men they were, and he also knew that not only his life depended upon his skill with a gun, but also those of Josh and his children. The town was waiting to see which would triumph, Texas law or Tatum's law.

(from "Bowdrie Passes Through," by Louis L'Amour)

Just pray he has steady nerves

    He whipped the gunbelt from the man's waist and was just turning when he saw two men charging into the barn. He covered them. "Drop 'em! An' drop 'em fast!"

    Gingerly, careful to allow no room for a mistake, they unbuckled their belts.

    "Now, back up!"

    Tom Pettibone stepped from the house, the Sharps up and ready. "Cover them, Tom. If anyone so much as moves, blow him in two!"

    "Hey, mister!" one of the men protested. "That kid might get nervous!"

    "Suppose you just stand there an' pray he doesn't," Bowdrie suggested. 

(from "Bowdrie Passes Through," by Louis L'Amour)

Life on the dodge

 "Nothin' romantic about bein' an outlaw, son. Just trouble an' more trouble. You can't trust anybody, even the outlaws you ride with. You're always afraid somebody will recognize you, and you don't have any real friends, for fear they might turn you in or rob you themselves. The trouble with bein' an outlaw or any kind of criminal is the company you have to keep."

(from "Bowdrie Passes Through," by Louis L'Amour)

Knowing where to stop

     "Hold it right there, mister!"

    The voice behind the Sharps was young, but it carried a ring of command, and it does not require ad grown man to pull a trigger. Chick Bowdrie had lived this long because he knew where to stop. He stopped now.

(from "Bowdrie Passes Through," by Louis L'Amour)

Pay attention to your horse

     Only a moment before, Chick Bowdrie had been dozing in the saddle, weary from the long miles behind; then a sudden tensing of muscles of the hammerheaded roan brought him out of it.

    Pulling the black, flat-crowned hat lower over his eyes, he studied the terrain with the eyes of a man who looked that he might live. His legs, sensitive to every reaction of the horse he rode, had warned him. If he needed more, he had only to look at the roan's ears, tipped forward now, and the flaring nostrils. Whatever it was, the roan did not like it.

(from "Bowdrie Rides a Coyote Trail," by Louis L'Amour)

Life in the West

    No man can be understood except against the background of his own time. The characters in "Showdown on the Hogback" lived in a time and place when workdays were long, living conditions were harsh, and the work itself was brutally hard. Yet they expected nothing more. At least they had fresh air.

    Conditions in eastern cities were worse in many respects. Trade unions either did not exist or were fighting for acceptance, and sweatshop conditions prevailed everywhere. Sanitary conditions were just as primitive as in the West, only with less clean air and sunlight.

    The western man grew up fighting to protect the land he claimed and the cattle he drove. There was no policeman to call; he learned not to call for help because there was nobody to listen. He saddled his own broncs, and he fought his own battles

(Above is the Author's Note to Showdown on the Hogback, by Louis L'Amour) 

Nobody is tough

     Bodie backed up another step, and his gun slid from his fingers. He tried to speak, and then his knees buckled and he went down. Standing over him, I looked at Red.

    "I'm ridin'," Red said huskily. "Just give me a chance." He swung into the saddle and then looked down at Bodie. "He wasn't so tough, was he?"

    'Nobody is," I told him. "Nobody's tough with a slug in his belly."

(from Riders of the Dawn, by Louis L'Amour)

Who lost?

     As I rode into the yard a man materialized from the shadows. It was Jonathan Benaras, with his long rifle.

    When I swung down from the saddle he stared at my face, but said nothing. Knowing he would be curious, I explained simply, "Morgan Park and I had it out. It was quite a fight. He took a licking."

    "If he looks worse than you he must be a sight."

(from Riders of the Dawn, by Louis L'Amour)

To fight again

 "Did you think I'd run? Olga, I've been whipped by Morgan Park, shot by Rollie Pinder, and attacked by the others, but Pinder is dead and Park's time is coming. No, I made a promise to a fine old man named Ball, another one to myself, and one to you, and I'll keep them all. In my time I've backed up, I've sidestepped, and occasionally I've run, but always to come back and fight again.

(from Riders of the Dawn, by Louis L'Amour)

Real experts

     "He seems quite knowledgeable about printing."

    "Qwilleran said, "During my career, Polly, I've interviewed thousands of persons, and I can detect the difference between (a) those who know what they're talking about and (b) those who have memorized information from a book. I don't think Boswell is an 'a.'"

(from The Cat Who Talked to Ghosts, by Lillian Jackson Braun)

Don't take much

     "Who'd you get?" asked Gorman.

      "Tom Blazer. Fats McCabe, too."

     "I figgered Tom. I told him he shouldn't have shot the kid. That was a low-down trick. But why shoot Fats?"

    "He acted like he was reachin' for a gun."

    "Huh. Don't take a lot to get man killed, does it?"

(from The Train To Crazy Man, by Louis L'Amour)

    

    

The right kind of courage

     He was an honest man, a sincere man. He had a quality to be found in many men of his kind and period - a quality of deep-seated loyalty that was his outstanding trait.

    Hard and reckless in demeanor, he rode with dash and acted with a flair. He had at times been called a hard case. Yet no man lived long in a dangerous country if he were reckless. There was a place always for courage, but intelligent courage, not the heedlessness of a harebrained youngster.

(from The Trail To Crazy Man, by Louis L'Amour)

Veni, vidi, vici

     Rafe Caradec turned slowly and walked back to his horse. Without a word he swung into the saddle. He turned the horse and, sitting tall in the saddle, swept the street with a cold, hard eye that seemed to stare at each man there. Then, as if by his own wish, the black horse turned. Walking slowly, his head held proudly, he carried his rider down the street and out of town.

    Behind him, coolly and without smiles, Bo Marsh and Tex Brisco followed. Like him, they rode slowly, and like him, they rode proudly. Something in their bearing seemed to say, "We were challenged. We came. You see the result."

(from The Trail to Crazy Man, by Louis L'Amour)

The lot of a spider

 He sat up at last and put on his hat. Then he threw the blankets back and got up, pulling on his pants and shaking out his boots. This morning he had collected nothing but a half-grown tarantula, who reared up menacingly. But Canavan was in no mood for trouble, and the big spider wandered away to come again another night. He hadn't been looking for trouble, anyway, just a warm place to sleep. And that big thing, whatever it was, had no right to shake him out of his bed at such an ungodly hour.

(from Where the Long Grass Blows, by Louis L'Amour)

I know that fellow

 The west was not so large a place as many seemed to believe. The country was enormous, but the populations was not, and the men who rode the wild country knew each other, at least by hearsay. Among the gun-packing fraternity - those who lived by the gun either on the side of the law or against it - all knew each other by name and reputation. At every camp fire there was discussion of their respective abilities.

(from Where the Long Grass Blows, by Louis L'Amour)