CHAPTER ONE<br >It was November， cold and wet in west Arkansas， a<br >miserable dawn following on a miserable night.<br >Sleet whistled through the pines and collected on<br >the humps of stone that jutted out of the earth; low<br >overhead， angry clouds hurtled by. Now and then<br >the wind would rush through the canyons between<br >the trees and blow the sleet like gunsmoke. It<br >was the day before hunting season.<br > Bob Lee Swagger had placed himself just off the<br >last climb that led up to Hard Bargain Valley， that<br >fiat splurge of tabletop high in the Ouachitas， and<br >he sat in perfect silence and perfect stillness against<br >an old pine， the rifle across his knees. This was<br >Bob s first gift: the gift of stillness. He acquired it<br >naturally， without instruction， from some inner pool<br ><br >