Lay Down My Sword and Shield (Hackberry Holland Series #1)

by James Lee Burke

Overview

Back in print for the first time in many years, LAY DOWN MY SWORD & SHIELD is vintage James Lee Burke--featuring Hack Holland.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781439167663
Publisher:	Simon & Schuster
Publication date:	04/27/2010
Series:	Hackberry Holland Series , #1
Sold by:	SIMON & SCHUSTER
Format:	eBook
Pages:	336
Sales rank:	31,391
File size:	2 MB

About the Author

James Lee Burke, a rare winner of two Edgar Awards, and named Grand Master by the Mystery Writers of America, is the author of twenty-nine previous novels and two collections of short stories, including such New York Times bestsellers as The Glass Rainbow, Swan Peak, The Tin Roof Blowdown, Last Car to Elysian Fields and Rain Gods. He lives in Missoula, Montana.

Hometown:

New Iberia, Louisiana and Missoula, Montana

Date of Birth:

December 5, 1936

Place of Birth:

Houston, Texas

Education:

B.A., University of Missouri, 1959; M.A., University of Missouri, 1960

Website:

http://www.jamesleeburke.com/

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

ALMOST NINETY YEARS ago during the Sutton-Taylor feud, John Wesley Hardin drilled a half-dozen .44 pistol balls into one of the wood columns on my front porch. My grandfather, Old Hack, lived in the house then, and he used to describe how Wes Hardin had ridden drunk all night from San Antonio when he had heard that Hack had promised to lock him in jail if he ever came back into DeWitt County again. The sun had just risen, and it was raining slightly when Hardin rode into the yard, his black suit streaked with mud, horse sweat, and whiskey; he had a shotgun tied across his saddle horn with a strip of leather and his navy Colt was already cocked in his hand.

"You, Hack! Get out here. And don't bring none of your Lincoln niggers with you or I'll kill them, too."

(My grandfather was sheriff and justice of the peace, and the Reconstruction government had forced him to take on two Negro federal soldiers as deputies. Of the forty-two men that Hardin eventually killed, many were Negroes, whom he hated as much as he did carpetbaggers and law officers.)

Hardin began shooting at the front porch, cocking and firing while the horse reared and pitched sideways with each explosion in its ears. Wes's face was red with whiskey, his eyes were dilated, and when the horse whirled in a circle he whipped the pistol down between its ears. He emptied the rest of the chambers, the fire and black powder smoke roaring from the barrel, and all six shots hit the wood column in a neat vertical line.

Hack had been up early that morning with one of his mares that was in foal, and when he saw Wes Hardin through the barn window he took the Winchester from the leather saddle scabbard nailed against the wall and waited for Wes to empty his pistol. Then he stepped out into the lot, his cotton nightshirt tucked inside his trousers, blood and membrane on his hands and forearms, and pumped a shell into the chamber. Wes jerked around backward in the saddle when he heard the action work behind him.

"You goddamn sonofabitch," Hack said. "Start to untie that shotgun and I'll put a new asshole in the middle of your face."

Hardin laid his pistol against his thigh and turned his horse in a half circle.

"You come up behind me, do you?" he said. "Get your pistol and let me reload and I'll pay them nigger deputies for burying you."

"I told you not to come back to DeWitt. Now you shot up my house and probably run off half my Mexicans. I'm going to put you in jail and wrap chains all over you, then I'm taking you into my court for attempted assault on a law officer. Move off that horse."

Wes looked steadily at Hack, his killer's eyes intent and frozen as though he were staring into a flame. Then he brought his boots out of the stirrups, slashed his spurs into the horse's sides, and bent low over the neck with his fingers in the mane as the horse charged toward the front gate. But Hack leaped forward at the same time and swung the Winchester barrel down with both hands on Hardin's head and knocked him sideways out of the saddle into the mud. There was a three-inch split in his scalp at the base of the hairline, and when he tried to raise himself to his feet, Hack kicked him squarely in the face twice with his boot heel. Then he put him in the back of a vegetable wagon, locked his wrists in manacles, tied trace chains around his body, and nailed the end links to the floorboards.

And that's how John Wesley Hardin went to jail in DeWitt County, Texas. He never came back to fight Hack again, and no other law officer ever got the better of him, except John Selman, who...

Editorial Reviews

These titles, published throughout the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s, represent Burke's early work before the creation of his now famous Cajun detective, Dave Robicheaux. Each features protagonists forced to make tough decisions that will forever change the paths of their lives (LJ 3/1/65, LJ 7/70, LJ 1/15/72).

Library Journal

Hackberry Holland—a Texas attorney, Korean War vet, and candidate for Congress—is haunted by memories of his days as a POW and driven to finding relief at the bottom of endless bottles of alcohol and in public displays of potentially career-ending behavior. Stuck in a loveless marriage and a law practice he cares little about, Hack is given a shot of redemption when a fellow vet is thrown into jail on trumped-up charges. Hack's decision to help his former brother in arms and his subsequent involvement with a beautiful union organizer leads him on a journey of self discovery and a shot at personal redemption. Will Patton delivers a soulful, world-weary reading as bleak as the Texas landscape, a performance that expertly captures Burke's multileveled characterizations and rich descriptive passages. Patton's narrations of Burke's novels are the perfect marriage of writer and reader. A Gallery paperwork. (Feb.)

Publishers Weekly