By Louis L'Amour
In a single rapid second, a fall wiped away his reminiscence. All he knew for sure used to be that somebody sought after him dead—and that he had higher research why. yet all over he became there extra questions—or humans too prepared to conceal the reality in the back of a smoke display of lies. He had purely the identify he have been instructed was once his personal, his mysterious ability with a gun, and a hyperlink to a part million funds’ worthy of buried gold as facts of his previous existence. used to be the treasure his? used to be he a thief? A killer? He didn’t have the solutions, yet he wanted them quickly. simply because what he nonetheless didn’t learn about himself, others did—and if he didn’t liberate the key of his earlier, he wasn’t going to have a lot of a destiny.
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Additional resources for The Man Called Noon: A Novel
Was once he Cullane? Or used to be he midday? Or used to be he neither one? Slipping off the coat he was once donning, he checked it with care. The sleeves have been too brief, and the shoulders too slender, even though no longer via a lot. The coat used to be adapted, now not a ready-made. “Tailored,” he stated aloud, “but now not for me. ” He knew he may by no means have permitted a coat that geared up so badly. If the coat used to be no longer his, it needs to be Dean Cullane’s, for the letters have been addressed to him. …Or might the coat belong to Ruble midday? For the deed have been there, too. was once there any method during which he may possibly observe who Ruble midday was once? Or Dean Cullane? Or Matherbee? He appeared back on the map. just a couple of strains on a bit paper, yet that X may be this very ranch, and the dotted line might be that faint path he had stumbled on. Why had Ruble midday a ranch within the quarter? What was once his reference to Tom Davidge? He had no answers—nothing yet questions. He used to be hungry, and he had no longer concept to convey meals with him. yet he didn't want to return now. there has been an excessive amount of to contemplate, an excessive amount of to determine. And he didn't understand what awaited him again on the ranch…Ben Janish may have back, and it used to be Ben Janish who had attempted to kill him. He swung his horse round, back to the path, and became the dun up the mountain. After a dozen quickly, tight turns they started to wind in the course of the wooded area, hiking gradually. The mountain was once steep, however the deer had came across how to the meadows under. there have been no horse tracks at the path, merely these of deer. He saved on, learning the rustic as he rode. the expansion was once so thick that purely sometimes may well he see the ranch or the valley under him. He the dim, slim path from side to side up the steep scarp until eventually without warning a notch within the mountain, invisible from under, opened prior to him. The dun went ahead slowly, ears pricked with interest. The notch opened after a few hundred yards right into a lengthy trough down which a circulation ran. It was once excessive grassland, the slopes lined with pines, and a couple of zone of a mile away he may perhaps see a small cabin, perched on a shelf one of the timber. there has been no sound, nor any signal of lifestyles there. Above at the mountain a rock cropped out, naked and chilly opposed to the sky; under it just a couple of straggling pines, wind-torn and twisted, stretched black, skinny hands opposed to the sky. It used to be a lonely position the place the shadows got here early and the place chilly winds blew off the ridges. Who had came across this spot? primarily, who had proposal to construct right here, lower than the awful sky? On any cloudy day where needs to be choked with damp, clinging grey clouds, and thunder needs to roll down this slim valley, leaving the air charged and smelling of brimstone. It was once a spot of sour solitude…yet by some means it appealed to him, one way or the other he knew this used to be his position, the place he belonged. the single sound was once that of the dun’s hoofs within the tall grass, and sometimes the clicking of a hoof opposed to stone. He went up the path to the shelf and stopped ahead of the cabin. It was once equipped opposed to a wall of rock, sheltered part underneath the overhang, and used to be of local stone, the chilly grey rocks collected from the foot of the cliff.