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The Lonely Men: The Sacketts: A Novel [Paperback]

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  • Category: Books (Fiction)
  • Author:  L'Amour, Louis
  • Author:  L'Amour, Louis
  • ISBN-10:  0553276778
  • ISBN-10:  0553276778
  • ISBN-13:  9780553276770
  • ISBN-13:  9780553276770
  • Publisher:  Bantam
  • Publisher:  Bantam
  • Pages:  192
  • Pages:  192
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Pub Date:  01-Jul-1984
  • Pub Date:  01-Jul-1984
  • SKU:  0553276778-11-SPLV
  • SKU:  0553276778-11-SPLV
  • Item ID: 100128263
  • Seller: ShopSpell
  • Ships in: 2 business days
  • Transit time: Up to 5 business days
  • Delivery by: Nov 29 to Dec 01
  • Notes: Brand New Book. Order Now.

InThe Lonely Men, Louis L’Amour spins the tale of a man who must elude an Apache trap—only to discover that his greatest enemy might be very close to home.

Tell Sackett had fought his share of Indians and managed to take something of value from his battles: a deep and abiding respect. But that respect is lost when Apache braves kidnap his nephew, forcing Tell to cross the border into the Sierra Madres to bring the boy back. What troubles Tell more, though, is the boy’s mother: Could she possibly be inventing a rescue mission to deliver her husband’s brother into an ambush?

Tell knows that the only things he can depend on are his wits and cold steel. But against such adversaries, even these formidable weapons may not be enough.

Our foremost storyteller of the American West,Louis L’Amourhas thrilled a nation by chronicling the adventures of the brave men and woman who settled the frontier. There are more than three hundred million copies of his books in print around the world.Chapter 1
 
It was hot. The shallow place where I lay atop the desert ridge was like an oven, the rocks like burning coals. Out on the flat below, where the Apaches waited, the heat waves shimmered and danced. Only the far-off mountains looked cool.
 
When I tried to push out my tongue to touch my cracked lips it was like a dry stick in my mouth, and the dark splashes on the rock were blood … my blood.
 
The round thing lying yonder with a bullet hole in it was my canteen, but there might be a smidgen of water left in the bottom—enough to keep me alive if I could get to it.
 
Down on the flat lay my sorrel horse, who had run himself to death trying to save my hide, and him with a bullet hole in his belly. In the saddlebags were the few odds and ends that were likely to be as much as I’d ever have of possessions in this life, for I didn’t seem to be l³'

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