I read this one on a camping trip to West Texas, and read it
mostly in the afternoons after a long day of hiking the Guadalupe mountains,
pounding down Powerade as I sat in the rare shade of my campsite in the flats
hoping the temperature would drop below 100 soon.
Does that explain why I don’t remember much of the plot? Rapine, kidnapping, revenge, ego, chase, gunfights, fatherly advice, sudden death, and maybe some fucking with a smidge of “the wilderness is the best” thrown in. This is the kind of book that fits great for me out in the woods. I don’t need lofty literature, I just need to roam and ramble and let me mind do the same. On a Texas Manhunt was an ideal campfire book.
The fact that I finished it, but have never been able to
finish a Longarm book, should speak volumes.
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