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Updated: June 2, 2025
"This here valley?" queried Sundown, immediately interested. "Sure! Well, I can sabe all that. I seen 'em." "Seen 'em?" "Sure! Why Arizona's got more leavin's of history and dead Injuns and such, right on top of the ground, than any other State in the Union.
Ther' ain't bin a feller slep in that bunk since Dave went away." "Why?" Tresler's interest was agog. "Why?" Arizona's voice rose. "'Cos it's mussed all up wi' a crazy man's blood. A crazy man as wus killed right here, kind of, by Jake Harnach." "I heard something of it." "Heerd suthin' of it? Wal, I guess ther' ain't a feller around this prairie as ain't yelled hisself hoarse 'bout Dave.
Therefore, when some one suggested Arizona's saddle since Arizona was on the sick list he jumped at the chance, for that individual was about his size. The mare was now on her legs again, and stood ready bridled, while two men held her with the lariat drawn tight over her windpipe. She stood as still as a rock, and to judge by the flashing of her eyes, inwardly raging.
"I must set her free of Jake somehow." Arizona's eyes flashed round on him quickly. "Jest so," he observed complainingly. "That's how I wanted to do last night." "And you'd have upset everything." "Wrong plumb wrong." "Perhaps so," Tresler smiled confidently. "We are all liable to mistakes." Arizona's dissatisfied grunt was unmistakable.
Stories came that men had tilled the land of the valley and had found that it would grow almost anything, as, indeed, it has since been found that any land in Arizona will do, providing the water is obtained to irrigate it. One of Arizona's most wonderful phenomena is the sudden greening of the sandy stretches after a heavy rain. One day everything is a sun-dried brown, as far as the eye can see.
You're goin' to hit the One-Way Trail. But you ken hit it like what you ain't, an' that's a man." Arizona's calm, judicial tone goaded his hearer. But "Tough" McCulloch was not the man to shout. His was a deadlier composition such as the open American hated and despised, and hardly understood.
"By the way, when you had your glove off a while ago I seen something on your wrist that looked like a rope gall, Kern. If I was to tell the boys that, what d'you figure they'd think about their sheriff?" It was Kern's turn to change color. For a moment he hesitated, and then he dropped a hand lightly on Arizona's shoulder.
Which attack had the effect of reducing the pandemonium, but in no way suppressing the ardent spirits of the party. It acted as a challenge, which Jacob Smith promptly took up. "Say, boys," he cried, "we're goin' to git eddication from Arizona!" His remark was followed by a derisive roar of laughter at Arizona's expense. But the moment it had subsided the derided one shot out his retort.
There was no earthly reason why he should not try to win her. He vividly called to mind what Joe had suggested, and Arizona's unfinished sentence rang in his ears, but both suggestions as a basis of hope he set aside with a lover's egotism. What could these men know or understand of such a matter?
Won't that change Sinclair's mind and make him move on?" "You don't know Sinclair," persisted Arizona. "You don't know him at all, sheriff." "Grab your hosses, boys. I'm following Arizona's lead." Pouring out of the door in silence, the omniscience of Arizona lay heavily upon their minds. Inside, the sheriff lingered with the wise man from the southland.
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