By Louis L'Amour
You cannot pass domestic again....
East Texas wasn't a lot of a house for Cullen Baker. Few loved him, and a few even attempted to kill him. but after 3 tough years of wandering, he is get back to farm the land that is rightfully his.
Only Cullen's in for an unwelcome homecoming: his buddies have lengthy thoughts, the Reconstructionists have grasping hearts, and his worst enemy has teamed up with a vicious outlaw. yet Cullen isn't really approximately to go into reverse. in its place, he is purpose on perfecting a brand new means of gunfighting—the quick draw. And now, with enemies final in on 3 facets and dangerous the girl he loves, he will need to be speedier than lightning—and two times as deadly—just to outlive.
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Additional info for The First Fast Draw
Reese was worried. “Colonel Belser, sir, I just know he fit for the South! ” “Joel Reese,” I explained, “was always a yellow dog. He should be right ashamed to mislead you this way. If he knows anything at all he should know that I spent the war in New Mexico and Utah. Shortly after the war broke out I drove a herd of cattle east and sold them, and then three years ago I went back West. “Reese hates folks around here because they’d no use for him. My advice would be to go easy on anything he may tell you.
A bee makes so much fuss with all his perambulating around that folks think they’re doing a sight of work, but believe me, I’ve watched bees by the hour and I can tell you all that buzzing is a big fraud. The bees I’ve watched always buzzed in the sunniest places around the best-smelling flowers, just loafing their heads off fusting around in the play of sun and shadow at the swamp’s edge. Busy? Not so’s you could notice. Used to be deer along the swamp edge but tonight my luck was played out, so I contented myself with a duck who got up lazy from the water, the dark, dark water among the lily pads.
But it was not a sound of the forest, nor of the rain, nor of any wild animal or bird, for these were sounds I knew and had known since childhood. It was a rider coming, maybe two, and nobody I wanted to see, but that was why I’d put together my lean-to back over the knoll and hid down deep among the rain-wet trees. This was a rider coming and I could only hope the rain had left no trail they could find, for if trouble was to come to me here, I wanted it to wait, at least until I had walked the old path to the well again, and seen where Pa was buried.