It was one of those perfect autumn days so common in stories and so rare in the real world. The weather was warm and dry, ideal for ripening a field of wheat or corn. On both sides of the road the trees were changing color. Tall poplars had gone a buttery yellow while the shrubby sumac encroaching on the read was tinged a violent red. Only the old oaks seemed reluctant to give up the summer, and their leaves remained an even mingling of gold and green.
Everything said, you couldn't hope for a nicer day to have a half dozen ex-soldiers with hunting bows relieve you of everything you owned.
The humorous style of writing made it a joy to read. I picked that passage at random - it is the start of the second chapter - but it is typical of the whole. Just reading that passage again makes me want to re-read the whole book. The characters are well-developed and this, the first of three books, finished much too soon (662 pages).