Description
Rebel Spurs
1
Even the coming of an autumn dusk could not subdue the color of this land.
Shadows here were not gray or black; they were violet and purple. The
crumbling adobe walls were laced by strings of crimson peppers, vivid in
the torch and lantern light. It had been this way for days, red and
yellow, violet-colors he had hardly been aware existed back in the cool
green, silver, gray-brown of Kentucky.
So this was Tubacca! The rider shifted his weight in the saddle and gazed
about him with watchful interest. Back in ’59 this had been a flourishing
town, well on its way to prominence in the Southwest. The mines in the
hills behind producing wealth, the fact that it was a watering place on
two cross-country routes-the one from Tucson down into Sonora of Old
Mexico, the other into California-had all fed its growth.