In the last year or two he had not only grown indifferent to company, he had begun to find it irritating.
If you only come face-to-face with your own mistakes once or twice in your life it’s bound to be extra painful. I face mine every day—that way they ain’t usually much worse than a dry shave.
However, he didn’t have a high opinion of the average man’s ability as a fighter. The majority of men couldn’t fight at all and even most outlaws were the merest amateurs when it came to battle. Few c...
He was just a husband and a salaried man. Choice didn’t play any part in his life.
Call saw that everyone was looking at him, the hands and cowboys and townspeople alike. The anger had drained out of him, leaving him feeling tired. He didn't remember the fight, particularly, but peo...
No matter how well he worked. It was a little discouraging: the harder he tried to please the Captain, the less the Captain seemed to be pleased.
Losing weight. When we finish eating this horse I
Virtually all his life he had been in the position of leading groups of men, yet the truth was he had never liked groups. Men he admired for their abilities in action almost always brought themselves...
They don't know it, but the wrath of the Lord is about to descend upon them.
The smartest man alive can’t learn much about a woman in two weeks.
That things were mysterious did not make them less valuable.
That possibility alone made his quandary more difficult. His wife had left for parts unknown, his deputy was wandering in other parts unknown, and the man he was supposed to catch was in yet other par...
Still, he was a salaried man. Even though Katie, who had been a good wife, was dead, he was not his own master.
Somewhere along the Rio Concho, he had stopped feeling that he lived in a world where ledgers mattered.
She sighed. Men were a pain.
Part of him wanted to remember; part of him needed to forget.
Only a rank degenerate would drive 1,500 miles across Texas without eating a chicken fried steak.
One reason I’ve hung on to book selling is that it’s progressive—the opposite of writing, pretty much. Eventually all novelists, if they persist too long, get worse. No reason to name names, since no...
Of course she teased the girls, but it was not the same as having a grown man to work on—she had often felt like pinching Bob for being so stolid. July was no better—in fact, he and Bob were cut from...
Occasionally the very youngness of the young moved him to charity—they had no sense of the swiftness of life, nor of its limits.