Dawn Comes Early Read Online Free PDF Page A

strong words for the lady ranch owner, but described Cactus Joe as a mere nuisance. Could Miss Walker really be that bad?
    In an effort to calm her nerves she rearranged her hat, wiggling the hatpin in place, and straightened her travel suit jacket. Her shirtwaist was now dry, but her skirt was wrinkled and covered in dust and smudged with train cinders. She neither looked nor felt her best.
    She craned her neck looking for a ranch house or something—anything. Nothing stirred. Even the muted horse hooves and rattling buckboard failed to disturb the stark panorama that stretched all the way to the mountains.
    She had taken him at his word when he said they had reached the ranch. So where was it? Maybe once she sighted civilization—if there was such a thing out here—the butterflies in her stomach would settle down.
    â€œI thought you said this was the Last Chance.”
    â€œIt is, ma’am, acres of deeded property surrounded by thousands of acres of free range. The ranch house is just a mile or so up the road.”
    â€œA mile?”
    He glanced at her. “The entire area covers around two hundred and fifty square miles.”
    She stared at him, openmouthed. “That much?” Westerners sure did think a lot bigger than their eastern counterparts.
    She already doubted the wisdom of coming to Cactus Patch, and the size of the ranch only added to her apprehension. Had she not been so hot and exhausted she would have been tempted to ask Mr. Adams to turn the wagon around and drive back to town and . . . go where? As forbidding and inhospitable as this land was, she had no desire to return to Boston and the terrible memories left behind.
    She shook her thoughts away. “So where are the cattle?”
    He pointed to the right. “Over there.”
    Shading her eyes against the midafternoon sun, she followed his pointing finger. The air shimmered with heat and the landscape was blurred. At first she didn’t see anything but saguaro cacti rising from the desert floor. Some of the cacti stood twenty feet high, arms branching out from a rounded pole—a strange plant, indeed.
    Finally she spotted little black dots of grazing cattle next to a body of water. She hadn’t expected to see a lake in the middle of the desert and the sight offered a measure of comfort, however tenuous.
    Spying the cattle too, Homer barked as if in greeting and raced ahead of the wagon.
    â€œWhat I would give to dive into that lake,” she said, fanning herself with her hand.
    He grinned at her. “I wouldn’t advise it, ma’am. That’s a mirage. All that’s out there is sand, rattlers, and burro grass.”
    She blinked. “It certainly looks real.”
    â€œThe desert is deceivin’.” He glanced at her. “You just never know what you’re gonna find.”
    â€œWhat about that up ahead? Is that a mirage too?” She pointed to a carpet of green that offered a pleasing contrast to the miles of arid land they’d passed.
    â€œNope, that’s real. Two hundred acres of alfalfa and red-top clover. Up ahead is the ranch house.” He clicked his tongue and flapped the reins, and his horse picked up speed.
    At the first building they reached, he brought the wagon to a stop and set the brake. Jumping from his seat he hurried to Kate’s side. Hands around her waist, he lifted her to the ground as if she were weightless.
    His horse drank from the water trough next to the largest windmill Kate had ever seen. The sucker rods made a swishing noise as they rose and fell in the well casing. The metal teeth of the gears scraped and grated as the windmill drew water from the depths of the earth.
    Homer stuck his long nose in the trough and drank with loud lapping sounds. Mr. Adams filled his canteen directly from the wooden tank that no animal could reach and handed it to her. Next to the hot air, the water tasted cool and sweet.
    â€œMiss Tenney, I want you to