Shane

Shane

He rode into our valley in the summer of €89, a slim man, dressed in black. €œCall me Shane,€ he said. He never told us more.<br><br>There was a deadly calm in the valley that summer, a slow, climbing tension that seemed to focus on Shane.<br><br>€œThere€s something about him,€ Mother said. €œSomething . . . dangerous . . .€<br><br>€œHe€s dangerous all right,€ Father said, €œbut not to us.€<br><br>€œHe€s like one of these here slow burning fuses,€ the mule skinner said.<br><br>€œQuiet . . . so quiet you forget it€s burning till it sets off a hell of a blow of trouble. And there€s trouble brewing.€<br><br>Jack Schaefer is best known for this timeless classic.