Outlaws Mock A Silent Stagecoach Driver, Only To Discover He's The West's Deadliest Gunfighter скачать в хорошем качестве

Outlaws Mock A Silent Stagecoach Driver, Only To Discover He's The West's Deadliest Gunfighter

Outlaws Mock a Silent Stagecoach Driver, Only to Discover He's the West's Deadliest Gunfighter On the desolate trails of Redemption Pass, six outlaws made the fatal error of ridiculing the weathered stagecoach driver who barely spoke above a whisper. They couldn't have known that Samuel "Silent Sam" Kincaid had buried his Colts years ago after leaving twenty-seven men in shallow graves across three territories, or that their mockery would resurrect the man once known as "The Pallbearer" – a ghost even the most hardened killers prayed never to meet. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dusty yard of the Copper Creek Stage Station as Samuel Kincaid methodically inspected the undercarriage of the six-horse Concord coach. His movements were deliberate and precise, checking each bolt and spring with the attention of a watchmaker. For three years now, he'd been driving the perilous route between Copper Creek and Fort Laramie, and in all that time, Martha Sullivan had never seen the man waste a single motion or speak when silence would suffice. "Sam, have you ever thought about taking a day off?" Martha asked, marking entries in the station ledger from her seat on the porch. Her question earned her that slight tilt of his head that passed for acknowledgment these days. "What would I do with a day off, Mrs. Sullivan?" His voice was soft, almost gentle – the kind that made most travelers lean closer to hear, the kind that made them underestimate him. This suited Sam just fine. The station was quiet this afternoon, just old Jim Taggart whittling on a piece of pine in the shade, and Doctor Henry Wells reading correspondence at a small table near the water trough. The doctor glanced up occasionally, his eyes meeting Sam's in that knowing way they had. Of all the people in Copper Creek, only Doc Wells knew why Sam's hands, now so careful with the delicate workings of a stage harness, had once been whispered about in saloons throughout the West. The peaceful routine was broken by the sound of approaching hoofbeats as Sheriff Wilson McAllister rode into the yard, dust clinging to his weathered face and concern etched in the lines around his eyes.