through the town. “A prospector fella named Ed Schieffelin discovered mighty rich veins of silver in 1877, in the Goose Flats area. That old boy named his first mining claim ‘The Tombstone,’ after soldiers told him the only thing he’d find in those hills was Apache Indians and his own tombstone.
“That there on our left,” Chuck continued, “is the Boothill Graveyard. They named it that ‘cause so many of the folks buried there died sudden-like or were killed with their boots still on.”
Chuck launched into a story about the town’s first mayor and the gunfight at the O.K. Corral.
“Fascinating,” Lani murmured then looked back out the window. “Is that all there is to it? I think I missed the rest of the town.”
Rick chuckled and said, “If you blink you miss it. From the highway there’s not a whole lot to see of ‘The Town too Tough to Die.’” He pointed to the gentle swells of land. “When I was a boy, and Mom and Dad would drive through here, I used to imagine a dusty road replacing the highway, and wagons instead of cars. I’d picture gunslingers on horseback, plodding along the gritty trails, and prospectors mining for silver.”
“It’s so…empty,” she said. “So open and free.” Rick glanced at her as she stared out the window and drank in the landscape. “I can almost picture it. Take down those telephone poles, get rid of the asphalt, replace the soil that was blasted out to make room for the highway, and nix the occasional passing car, and I bet it looks much like it did a hundred years ago.”
He smiled. So, she could see it. She did get a sense of how it was out here, half-old, half-new—just from this little car ride. Ms. Lani Stanton wasn’t just a big city girl after all.
And he still couldn’t believe his luck, getting to bring her home with him.
When they’d walked out of the hotel that morning, the first thing that struck Lani was how warm it was, even though it was still relatively early. The air had been thick and humid from the previous night’s rain, but she enjoyed it over the freezing chill that greeted her every time she set foot outside her apartment in San Francisco.
“What do you think of the wild west?” Rick asked as they headed deeper into rural country.
“It’s beautiful.” Southwestern Arizona had a rugged magnificence she’d never imagined, that captivated her completely. No wonder settlers came out west to start a new life in places like this. The land had a way of calling to a person’s soul and claiming it.
Clouds had built up around the mountains, but the sky in between was an endless cerulean blue. The final road they took was paved, but they had to cross several washes, some full of mud from flash floods.
Lani still couldn’t believe that she was in a car with Rick, and that it was his house she would be staying at. Her attraction to him was staggering, but she kept reminding herself that men were men, and the memory of James was still way too fresh.
No more mistakes. And no mixing business with personal, either.
Her heart rate increased when they finally drove up a dirt road to a sprawling ranch home—an oasis in the desert, surrounded by enormous weeping willows, cottonwoods, and junipers. Nothing but ground hugging mesquite bushes and tumbleweeds survived for acres and acres outside the fenced-off yard, but inside the yard everything grew lush and green from the expansive front lawn to the extensive flower and vegetable gardens.
As they reached the ranch house, a black Rottweiler bounded toward the vehicle, followed by a grubby boy. He was just a little kid. Lani studied him with a reporter’s eye, sizing him up at around eight or nine. Rick parked the SUV, and as soon as he opened the door, the boy launched himself at the man.
“Dad! I missed you!”
Dad? Oh, my god. Lani’s jaw dropped. Rick was a father? He had a son?
But of course. How could she have missed the resemblance? There was no doubt that boy was
“That there on our left,” Chuck continued, “is the Boothill Graveyard. They named it that ‘cause so many of the folks buried there died sudden-like or were killed with their boots still on.”
Chuck launched into a story about the town’s first mayor and the gunfight at the O.K. Corral.
“Fascinating,” Lani murmured then looked back out the window. “Is that all there is to it? I think I missed the rest of the town.”
Rick chuckled and said, “If you blink you miss it. From the highway there’s not a whole lot to see of ‘The Town too Tough to Die.’” He pointed to the gentle swells of land. “When I was a boy, and Mom and Dad would drive through here, I used to imagine a dusty road replacing the highway, and wagons instead of cars. I’d picture gunslingers on horseback, plodding along the gritty trails, and prospectors mining for silver.”
“It’s so…empty,” she said. “So open and free.” Rick glanced at her as she stared out the window and drank in the landscape. “I can almost picture it. Take down those telephone poles, get rid of the asphalt, replace the soil that was blasted out to make room for the highway, and nix the occasional passing car, and I bet it looks much like it did a hundred years ago.”
He smiled. So, she could see it. She did get a sense of how it was out here, half-old, half-new—just from this little car ride. Ms. Lani Stanton wasn’t just a big city girl after all.
And he still couldn’t believe his luck, getting to bring her home with him.
When they’d walked out of the hotel that morning, the first thing that struck Lani was how warm it was, even though it was still relatively early. The air had been thick and humid from the previous night’s rain, but she enjoyed it over the freezing chill that greeted her every time she set foot outside her apartment in San Francisco.
“What do you think of the wild west?” Rick asked as they headed deeper into rural country.
“It’s beautiful.” Southwestern Arizona had a rugged magnificence she’d never imagined, that captivated her completely. No wonder settlers came out west to start a new life in places like this. The land had a way of calling to a person’s soul and claiming it.
Clouds had built up around the mountains, but the sky in between was an endless cerulean blue. The final road they took was paved, but they had to cross several washes, some full of mud from flash floods.
Lani still couldn’t believe that she was in a car with Rick, and that it was his house she would be staying at. Her attraction to him was staggering, but she kept reminding herself that men were men, and the memory of James was still way too fresh.
No more mistakes. And no mixing business with personal, either.
Her heart rate increased when they finally drove up a dirt road to a sprawling ranch home—an oasis in the desert, surrounded by enormous weeping willows, cottonwoods, and junipers. Nothing but ground hugging mesquite bushes and tumbleweeds survived for acres and acres outside the fenced-off yard, but inside the yard everything grew lush and green from the expansive front lawn to the extensive flower and vegetable gardens.
As they reached the ranch house, a black Rottweiler bounded toward the vehicle, followed by a grubby boy. He was just a little kid. Lani studied him with a reporter’s eye, sizing him up at around eight or nine. Rick parked the SUV, and as soon as he opened the door, the boy launched himself at the man.
“Dad! I missed you!”
Dad? Oh, my god. Lani’s jaw dropped. Rick was a father? He had a son?
But of course. How could she have missed the resemblance? There was no doubt that boy was
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