Man From Boot Hill

Начало книги

Nobody thought too much about the undertaker until it was too late.

It was a quiet yet important job that didn’t draw attention—and that suited Nick Graves just fine.

The sun beat down upon Nick’s shoulders as he stripped layer after layer from the side of a freshly cut plank of cedar. As slivers of wood curled up over the top of the plane, they were caught by the wind and blown back against his rough, callused knuckles. Like any other carpenter’s hands, they showed the wear that accompanied his trade. The missing fingers and gnarled scars, however, weren’t so typical.

It had taken a bit of effort and plenty of practice on Nick’s part, but he was able to guide the plane along the wood’s surface with perfect accuracy, despite his wounded hands. He moved with slow, easy motions, as if he was rocking a baby to sleep. All the while, a satisfied grin took hold of his face.

It had been some time since he had relaxed and enjoyed his chosen profession. Nick had learned his trade when he was a boy and had been practicing it for several years, but only recently had been able to give himself over to simple physical labor while letting his mind wander among the smaller things. A man couldn’t fully enjoy something like that until his face had collected a few lines around the edges.

Читать дальше →