Jubal Sackett

Jubal Sackett

by Louis L'Amour

Paperback(Large Print)

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In Jubal Sackett, the second generation of Louis L’Amour’s great American family pursues a destiny in the wilderness of a sprawling new land.

Jubal Sackett’s urge to explore drove him westward, and when a Natchez priest asks him to undertake a nearly impossible quest, Sackett ventures into the endless grassy plains the Indians call the Far Seeing Lands. He seeks a Natchez exploration party and its leader, Itchakomi. It is she who will rule her people when their aging chief dies, but first she must vanquish her rival, the arrogant warrior Kapata. Sackett’s quest will bring him danger from an implacable enemy . . . and show him a life—and a woman—worth dying for.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780739378090
Publisher: Diversified Publishing
Publication date: 08/16/2011
Series: Sackett Series , #4
Edition description: Large Print
Pages: 544
Sales rank: 522,751
Product dimensions: 6.10(w) x 9.20(h) x 1.10(d)

About the Author

Our foremost storyteller of the American West, Louis L’Amour has thrilled a nation by chronicling the adventures of the brave men and woman who settled the frontier. There are more than three hundred million copies of his books in print around the world.

Date of Birth:

March 22, 1908

Date of Death:

June 10, 1988

Place of Birth:

Jamestown, North Dakota



Read an Excerpt

A cold wind blew off Hanging Dog Mountain and I had no fire, nor dared I strike so much as a spark that might betray my hiding place. Somewhere near, an enemy lurked, waiting.
Yesterday morning, watching my back trail, I saw a deer startle, cross a meadow in great bounds, and disappear into the forest. Later, shortly after high sun, two birds flew up suddenly. Something was following me.
Warm in my blanket, I huddled below a low earthen bank, concealed by brush and a fallen tree. The wind swept by above me, worrying my mind because its sound might cover the approach of an enemy creeping closer. There he could lie waiting to kill me when I arose from my hiding place.
I, Jubal Sackett, was but a day’s journey from our home on Shooting Creek in the foothills of the Nantahalas, close upon Chunky Gal Mountain.
All the enemies of whom I knew were far from here, yet any stranger was a potential enemy, and he was a wise traveler who was forever alert.
Our white enemies were beyond the sea, and our only red enemies were the Seneca, living far away to the north beyond Hudson’s River. No Seneca was apt to be found alone so far from others of his kind. The Seneca were a fine, fierce lot of fighting men of the Iroquois League who had become our enemies because we were friends of the Catawba, who were their enemies.
Whoever followed me was a good reader of sign, for I left little evidence of my passing. Such an enemy is one to guard against, for skilled tracking is a mark of a great hunter and a great warrior. Nor do I wish to leave my scalp in the lodge of some unknown enemy when my life is scarce begun.
What was this strange urge that drove me westward, ever westward into an empty land?
Behind me were family, home, and all that I might become; before me were nameless rivers, swamps, mountains, and forests, and beyond the great river were the plains, those vast grasslands of which we had only heard, and of which we knew nothing.
About me and before me lay a haunted land whose boundaries we did not know. What little we had heard was from the tales of Indians, and they shied from this land, hunting here but always moving and returning to their homes far away. When the night winds prowled they huddled close to their fires and peered uneasily into the night. There was game here in plenty, and when the need was great they came to hunt. We did not know what mysteries lay here or why the place was shunned, but they spoke of it as a dark and bloody ground.
Why, in such a land of meadows, forests, and streams, were there no habitations? Once it was not so, for there are earth mounds, and friendly Indians had told us of a stone fort built they know not when nor by whom.
Who were those who vanished? Why did they come, build, and then disappear? What happened upon this ground? What dark and shameful deed? What horror so great that generations of Indians feared the land?
There are rumors, also, of a dark-skinned people who live in secluded valleys, a people who are neither Indian nor African, but of a different cast of feature who hold themselves aloof and keep strange customs and a different style of living. But we know nothing beyond the rumor, for their valleys lie far from ours.
I do not come to solve mysteries, but to seek out the land.
My father was Barnabas, the first of our name to come to this place beyond the ocean from the England of his birth. Of Barnabas I was the third son, Kin-Ring and Yance born before me. My elder brothers had found homes among the hills. My younger brother, Brian, and my one sister, Noelle, had returned to England with our mother, my brother to read for the law, my sister to be reared in a gentler land than this. I do not believe I shall see them again, nor hear of them unless it be some distant whisper on the wind. Nor shall I again see my father.
I had been called the Strange One, like the others but different. I loved my brothers and they loved me, but my way was a lonely way and I went into a land from which I would not return.
Of them all my father understood me best, for with all his great strength and magnificent fighting ability there was much in him of the poet and the mystic, as there is in me.
Our last evening together I would not forget, for each of us knew it was for the last time. Lila, who prepared our supper, also knew. Lila is Welsh and the wife of my father’s old friend, Jeremy Ring, and had been a maid to my mother ere they departed from England.
My father, Lila, and I have the Gift. Some call it second sight, but we three often have pre-visions of what is to be, sometimes with stark clarity, often only fleeting glimpses as through the fog or shadows. All our family have the Gift to some degree, but me most of all. Yet I have never sought to use it, nor wished to see what is to be.
I knew how my father would die and almost when, and he knew also when we talked that last time. He accepted the nearness of death as he accepted life, and he would die as he would have wished, weapon in hand, trying his strength against others.
We parted that night knowing it was for the last time, with a strong handclasp and a look into each other’s eyes. It was enough. I would keep his memory always, and he would know that somewhere far to the westward his blood would seek the lonely trails to open the land for those who would follow.
A faint patter of rain awakened me and I eased from under my blanket, preparing a neat pack. Daylight, or as much as I was likely to see, was not far off. It had been snug and dry where I had slept, but with only a few inches of overhang to shelter my bed from the rain. I had shouldered my pack and girded my weapons before the thought came to me.
Smoothing the earth where I had slept, I took up a twig and drew four crosses in the earth.
The red man was forever curious, and to most of whom we call Indians four was a magic number. He who followed would come upon this mark and wonder. He might even worry a little and be wary of seeking me out, for the Indian is ever a believer in medicine, or as some say, magic.
So it was that in the last hour of darkness I went down the mountain through the laurel sticks, crossed a small stream, and skirted a meadow to come to the trace I sought.
Nearly one hundred years before De Soto had come this way, his marchings and his cruelties leaving no more mark than the stirring of leaves as he passed. A few old Indians had vague recollections of De Soto, but they merely shrugged at our questions. We who wandered the land knew this was no “new world.” The term was merely a conceit in the minds of those who had not known of it before.
The trace when I came upon it was a track left by the woods buffalo, who were fewer in number but larger in size than the buffalo of the Great Plains. The buffalo was the greatest of all trailmakers. Long ago the buffalo had discovered all the salt licks, mountain passes, and watering holes. We latecomers had only to follow the way they had gone, for there were no better trails anywhere.
When I came upon the track I began to run. We who lived in the forest regularly ran or walked from place to place as did the Indians. It was by far the best way to cover distance where few horses and fewer roads were to be found.
My brothers ran well but were heavier than I and not so agile. Although very strong I was twenty pounds lighter than Kin-Ring and thirty lighter than Yance.
Our strength was born of our daily lives. Our cabins and our palisades were built of logs cut and dragged from the forest. The logs for the palisade stood upright in ditches dug for the purpose. Only in the past few years had we managed to obtain horses from the Spanish in Florida, who broke their own law in selling them to us when they departed for their home across the sea.
Every task demanded strength, for the logs used in building the cabins were from eight to twenty inches thick and twenty to thirty feet in length. There are “slights” and skills known to working men that enable them to handle heavy weights, but in the final event it comes down to sheer muscle. So my brothers and I had grown to uncommon strength, indulging in wrestling, tossing the caber, and lifting large stones in contests one with the other.

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Jubal Sackett 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 77 reviews.
LarryWilliams More than 1 year ago
Jubal Sackett is another great early (very early) American tale. It is a continuation of the early Sackett story. It picks up as Jubal leaves to see the "shining mountains", far beyond the "Far Blue Mountains" of his father. Friendship, loyalty and eventually romance all enter into this tale. The plot is relatively simple, but as usual with Louis L'Amour novels it is in the telling that the story shines. L'Amour could easily sit in a cabin or lodge in the winter and tell stories of past adventures. If one likes history or adventure I highly recommend this book. The early "Sackett" stories are among L'Amour's best; recalling a time when this land was as wild and untamed as the people who inhabited it.
Izy More than 1 year ago
This is truly a book worth 2 THUMBS UP!!! This book is so captivating and intense. It puts you in time travel, opening your eyes to America's amazing past. I read this book in two days. I couldn't put this book down and it ended so well. It didn't leave you hanging wondering what happened to the characters. This book has made this genre my favorite, and I read everything now about frontier individuals, and Native Americans. Louis L'Amour and James Alexander Thom are amazing authors. TRULY A MUST READ!!!!
Guest More than 1 year ago
If ever you wished to read THE beginning frontiers' story, this is the one you want. Jubal, the protagonist, explores the far western lands and meets endless surprises along the way. I just finished this book for the second time and enjoyed it even more. This is on the top 3 for L'Amour books, certainly my favorite of the well-known Sackett series. Faced with enemies, love of women and wandering, and huge wild game, Jubal proves his worth over and over again.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This was the one book which started me off on reading again.It was the first western I had read and consequently hasn't been the last. I love the style of Louis Lamour and found the characters in the book and the lives they lead to be easy reading with a wanting to know more about what was to happen next and my curiosity being fulfilled with a great story.I thorouly recommend this book to any fan of Louis Lamour ( especially his Sackett novels) or indeed this makes for an enjoyable read for those who have never read a western yet.
dragonasbreath on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
It was fun and entertaining. Some of the problems he got himself into - such as breaking his leg in the middle of nowhere with nobody around - while perhaps a bit mindstretching, were also examplary of the problems frontiersmen actually had.This volume was much more entertaining than Ride the River or Lando were.
DeltaQueen50 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Jubal Sackett by Louis L¿Amour is part of the continuing saga of the Sackett Family. This story is set in the 1700¿s and follows the adventures of Jubal, third son of the original Sackett to come to America.Although his brothers were content to settle down and raise families on their original home site in North Carolina, Jubal is a wanderer. He vows to follow his dreams and heads west. Along the way he explores much virgin territory, meets with various people, finds a travelling companion and a beautiful Indian woman to love. This book required a large stretch of imagination as the events become more and more unbelievable. By the end of the book we have Jubal fighting a mammoth that should have been extinct centuries before. I managed to finish the book, but it will remain one of my least favorite of this series so far. With the territory that Jubal covered, this could have been an excellent adventure story instead of such a disappointment.
clif_hiker on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Third (or is it fourth?) in the Sackett series, this book follows Jubal, the youngest son of Barnabas Sackett, west to find his destiny. A longish story that could've done with cutting 30 pages or so of Jubal's repetitive naval gazing about his destiny amongst the mountains. Still, a good story in the line of Sacketts, and introduces some new characters into the saga.
MerryMary on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This book follows Barnabas Sackett's youngest son Jubal into the west. The setting is considerably earlier than most of L'Amour's mountain man epics. The native tribes are Kickapoo and Natchez, instead of Apache, Sioux, and Cheyenne. The wilderness is less touched by European influence except for the Spanish soldiers filtering up from the south. L'Amour's notes at the end even make the mammoth encounter feasible!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I enjoy this story like all of the rest
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Though it was indeed a longer Sackett book, i still thoroughly enjoyed it and liked the unexpected twist at the end. I liked it better than some of the Sackett books that were set later in time. If you like the Sackett series, don't miss this one.
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Angie_Lisle More than 1 year ago
This has been my favorite book in the series so far - would've been five-star if L'Amour had just left out the animals, the first being Jubal's pet buffalo and the second being the Mammoth/Mastodon. Pure fantasy on L'Amour's part and I had problems buying it. Through his entire body of work, L'Amour repeatedly mentions that Columbus wasn't the first to discover America - the Mammoth scene in this book made me think that maybe L'Amour should've stepped out of this series to do another stand-alone (like The Walking Drum) about prehistoric America. I think he would've enjoyed it and I'd have liked to read it. But, aside from that element, this book provides everything a good story offers - history/local lore, romance (without pages of gazing into each other's eyes and mushy conversations), violence with multiple villains. Also, the telling of this story is less choppy than the previous books in the series. In previous reviews, I stated that I cast Brad Pitt as Barnabas Sackett, and then, because of similarities between Kin and his daddy Barny, I also recast a younger Mr. Pitt to play the Kin that I imagined while reading. At the start of this book, L'Amour tries to emphasis that, of all of Barnabas' sons, Jubal is the most like him. I disagree. Jubal is more introverted and more of a strategist than his daddy, so I did cast a different actor to play the Jubal in my mind - Travis Fimmel. And I do mean Viking-Ragnar Fimmel with all that sexy bearded glory and not the metrosexualized Fimmel hanging out in his underwear (FYI, I didn't find Fimmel attractive until he grew the beard). A young Sheila Tousey became Itchakomi, Jubal's love-interest, and Rick Mora (because only someone who is extra-pretty can stand beside Fimmel's gorgeous beard and not get lost in the background) became Jubal's Indian sidekick (in this context, I'm specifically referring to the Hollywood trope because Keokotah is definitely Jubal's Tonto. Oh, and you can plug in Rick at any age - that man is just down right beautiful). And, of course, because I adore Jubal and want to know what happens next, this is the last we'll see of him. The time-chronology jumps 200-years forward in the next book, Ride the River. I really would've enjoyed a next book for Jubal.
Olebiker More than 1 year ago
I have been a big fan of Louis Lamour's westerns but have only recently begun reading the Sackett series of books. I must say I was surprised and disappointed at the repetitive nature of much of the narrative. It felt as though Lamour just couldn't figure out a way to make Jubal's actions speak for his state of mind so the narrator had to explain it to us over and over. This was the first Lamour book that has been a disappointment to me.
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BookbugGH More than 1 year ago
Every Louis L'Amour book I read just gets me hooked deeper. I am so glad I finally started reading this great author. "Jubal Sackett" is another great example of a book you don't won't to put down but on the other hand you want to finish so you can go on with the series. I find myself so engrossed in his story that time has a way of slipping by and I have to put it down to get something done besides read. Fantastic book as all of his are.
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I love this book. I remember my dad reading this to me as a little kid. I just re-read it and it totally stands up to the tests of time. It's got all of the classic L L'Amour elements. Wilderness, adventure, intrigue, good vs evil, man vs wild, and just a touch of romance. A must read. You won't be disappointed.
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