"Red," Orrin said, "there's a fair land up north, a wide and beautiful land. It's a land with running water, clear streams, and grass hip-high to a tall elk. I tell you, Red, that's a country."
"And you know something, Red?" I put in my two-bits worth. "We think you should see it."
"We surely do." Orrin was dead serious. "We're going to miss you if you go, Red. But Red, you stay and we won't miss you."
(from The Daybreakers, by Louis L'Amour)
Politics was a high card up in the hills. A political speech would bring out the whole country. Folks would pack their picnic lunches and you'd see people at a speech you'd never see elsewhere. Back in those days' most every boy grew up knowing as much about local politics as about coon dogs, which was about equal as to interest.
(from The Daybreakers, by Louis L'Amour)
It was dry - the grass was brown, parched and sun-hot when we fetched up to Owl Creek and found it bone-dry. Little and Big Cow Creeks, also dry.
This last was twenty miles from our last night's camp and no sign of water, with another twenty to go before we reached the Bend of the Arkansas.
"There'll be water," Rountree said in his rasping voice, "there's always water in the Arkansas."
By that time I wasn't sure if there was any water left in Kansas. We took a breather at Big Cow Creek and I rinsed out Dapple's mouth with my handkerchief a couple of times. My lips were cracked and even Dapple seemed to have lost his bounce. That heat and the dry air, with no water, it was enough to take the spry out of a camel.
(from The Daybreakers, by Louis L'Amour)
Suddenly, I knew I didn't have to kill him. Mayhap that was the moment when I changed from a boy into a man. Somewhere I'd begun to learn things about myself and about gunfights and gunfighters. Reading men is the biggest part; drawing fast, even shooting straight, they come later. And some of the fastest drawing men with guns were among the first to die. That fast draw didn't mean a thing - not a thing.
(from The Daybreakers, by Louis L'Amour)
Anybody expecting Abilene to be a metropolis would have been some put out, but to Orrin and me, who had never seen anything bigger than Baxter Springs, it looked right smart of a town. Why, Abilene was quite a place, even if you did have to look mighty fast to see what there was of it.
(from The Daybreakers, by Louis L'Amour)
Again and again he delayed to study their trail, and he felt growing within him an old fierceness, a feeling he had had only once or twice since the end of the war.
He had felt it on that awful night when he had come to find his house in flames, flames already dying down as day was coming. He had felt it during those months of search when he had thought of nothing but finding the men responsible.
Now he knew they were behind him. They were back there, coming along his trail.
Dutton Mowry had told him what he had suspected, and now once more that deep and terrible rage, never quite extinguished, was mounting within him. There was in him something of the old Viking berserker, who threw all caution to the winds and charged, blade in hand, thinking only to cut down his enemy.
Devine had known that quality was in him, and feared for him. So had Grant.
(from Brionne, by Louis L'Amour)
Mike's succssor, a youth of the name of Bristow, was causing Psmith a great deal of pensive melancholy. His worst defect - which he could not help - was that he was not Mike. His others - which he could - were numerous. His clothes were cut in a way that harrowed Psmith's sensitive soul every time he looked at them. The fact that he wore detachable cuffs, which he took off on beginning work and stacked in a glistening pile on the desk in front of him, was no proof of innate viciousness of disposition, but it prejudiced the Old Etonian against him. It was part of Psmith's philosophy that a man who wore detachable cuffs had passed beyond the limit of human toleration.
(from Psmith In the City, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
"My dear chap," said Mike, "it's all rot. I can't sponge on you."
"You pain me, Comrade Jackson. I was not suggesting such a thing. We are business men, hard-headed young bankers. I make you a business proposition. I offer you the post of confidential secretary and adviser to me in exchange for a comfortable home. The duties will be light. You will be required to refuse invitations to dinner from crowned heads, and to listen attentively to my views on Life. Apart from this, there is little to do."
(from Psmith In the City, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
London was too big to be angry with. It took no notice of him. It did not care whether he was glad to be there or sorry, and there was no means of making it care. That was the peculiarity of London. There is a sort of cold unfriendliness about it. A city like New York makes the new arrival feel at home in half an hour; but London is a specialist in what Psmith in his letter had called the Distant Stare. You have to buy London's good-will.
(from Psmith In the City, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
"I suppose you're going to the 'Varsity?" he said.
"Rather," said Mike, lacing his boots. "You are, of course? Cambridge, I hope. I'm going to King's."
"Between ourselves," confided Psmith, "I'm dashed if I know what's going to happen to me. I am the thingummy of what's-its-name."
"You look it," said Mike, brushing his hair.
(from Psmith In the City, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
He glanced at the two guards. "You two want to help? We'll pay you."
One man shook his head. "Mister, I've got a family back in St. Louis. I wouldn't stick my head out of that door with a sack of gold for anything on earth."
"Not me," said the other. "Guarding inside of this car is one thing. The Colonel here, he's got steel plates in the sides of this car. He's ready for anything that happens. From in here we could stand off an army, but outside there in the dark? Mister, maybe I'm not very bright, but I'm not crazy, either."
(from North To the Rails, by Louis L'Amour)
His father had never seemed to be teaching, and yet when he thought of it now he realized that Borden Chantry had said things that counted. "If you want to live easy in your mind, son," he used to say, "be sure folks respect you. Saves a lot of trouble."
(from North To the Rails, by Lois L'Amour)
"I'll kind of set around and keep an eye on things."
"You don't even know me."
Mobile shrugged. "I don't have to. I used to punch cows for Sparrow. I came up the trail with him from Texas, decided that was too rugged a life for a man, and settled down here to deal cards. Contrary to what you might figure, I don't make much more than I would punchin' cows, but I sleep in a bed at night and I don't have to ride drag."
(from North To the Rails, by Louis L'Amour)
"We've got your husband," Hyle said, turning to Susanna. "You put down that shotgun or I'll have Doc start cuttin' fingers off. Every time I count, he'll lose anoher finger. Now you goin' to drop it or not?"
Susanna's shotgun was steady. "Mister," she spoke quietly, "if you say one, you will never say two. By the time you open your mouth I will have blown you apart with both barrels of this shotgun. You know, Mr. Hyle, or whatever your name is, you make a big, wide target, and I don't think I like you, Mr. Hyle."
(from The Quick and the Dead, by Louis L'Amour)
He knew all about Red Hyle. He was a brute, and if he possessed any human feelings at all they had not made themselves obvious. His attitude was one of contempt for everyone but his sheer physical power and harsh manner allowed no room for opposition. Just nobody wanted any part of Red Hyle.
(from The Quick and the Dead, by Louis L'Amour. This reminds me of the phrase "cruel and bloodthirsty men" from one of our hymns.)
She was alone. More than a thousand miles from friends, relatives, all that was familiar. She was sitting alone in the forest, knowing only that her husband might be injured or dead and that she had let her son go off into the night, and that he might be killed.
She had the shotgun. She looked at the charges, still in place - unfired.
She snapped the gun together again and waited. She forced herself to be strong, forced herself to be calm. Panic, someone had once said - had it been Vallian? - only enters an empty mind, and panic was what she must fear now - only panic. She steeled herself for what might lie ahead, and slowly the loneliness and fear left her. Although she was still alone, she was prepared for what might come.
(from The Quick and the Dead, by Louis L'Amour)
His father had been a man who talked of his work and his life, and he was a man who had known men and stock, who had pioneered in wild country. Had he been trying even then, to instruct his son? After all, what did a father have to pass on to his childen but his own presonal reaction to the world? Of what use was experience if one could not pass on at least a little of what one had learned?
(from North To the Rails, by Louis L'Amour)
He held his rifle easy in his hands, prepared for whatever might come. Nothing in his life had prepared him for things to turn out right. When they did, he was pleased; when they did not, he was ready.
(from The Quick and the Dead, by Louis L'Amour)
Booster stopped. "Now, ma'am, you be careful. That thing might be loaded."
"It is," she replied quietly, "and my husband tells me this will be very destructive at this range. I will hope I do not have to find out. I do not like the sight of blood, gentlemen."
Booster stared at her. He was angry but he was also scared. Would she shoot? She sounded very cool, and although she might be too frightened to shoot, he was not at all sure he wanted to make the test. A shotgun, at that range, could rip a man in two.
(from The Quick and the Dead, by Louis L'Amour)
Red Hyle had said nothing. He was slouched in the saddle, just letting them talk. Purdy glanced at him. What about that now? Was he as fast as Red? Sure. He'd never seen anybody he couldn't out-draw. But supposing, just supposing, that he was not? Supposing it came to a showdown and Red was faster.
He'd be dead.
(from The Quick and the Dead, by Louis L'Amour)
He had seen Hyle shoot, and he had seen only one man he thought was as good - just one. He'd seen Con Vallian down in the Bald Knob country that time, and Con was quick. He was almighty quick at a time when a man was either quick or he was dead.
(from The Quick and the Dead, by Louis L'Amour)
"Nothing stays the same," Kilkenny said. "A man has to go with the times. No man can put a rope on the past and hope to snub it down. The best thing is to learn to ride the new trails."
(from Kilkenny, by Louis L'Amour)
