They alone, in all that expanse, were dyed in the desert's sunset crimson. "The red sunset–the sign of the times–blood!"Ī broad bar of dense black shut out the April sky, except in the extreme west, where a strip of pale blue formed background for several clouds of striking color and shape. "See them? Ah! then look, August Naab, look in the heavens above for my prophecy," cried Cole, fanatically. Far away little puffs of dust rose above the white sage, and creeping specks moved at a snail's pace. Eyes keen as those of hawks searched die waste, and followed the red mountain rampart, which, sheer in bold height and processional in its craggy sweep, shut out the north. The desert, gray in the foreground, purple in the distance, sloped to the west. Suddenly, with livid face and shaking hand, Cole pointed westward." There! Dene and his band! See, under the red wall see the dust, not ten miles away. "I can't pass by this helpless man," rolled out August Naab's sonorous voice. Soon Dene will steal cattle under your very eyes. He'll ignore your water rights and drive your stock. But Holderness is creeping slowly on you. You're strong, stronger than any of us, far off in your desert oasis, hemmed in by walls, cut off by canyons, guarded by your Navajo friends. Soon yours will be if you keep your water-holes and your cattle. "August Naab, I am a Mormon too," returned Cole, "but my hands are stained with blood. What are our toils and perils compared to theirs? Why should we forsake the path of duty, and turn from mercy because of a cut-throat outlaw? I like not the sign of the times, but I am a Mormon I trust in God." Nor did they ever fail to succor the sick and unfortunate. They conquered the desert they prospered with the years that brought settlers, cattle-men, sheep-herders, all hostile to their religion and their livelihood. "They came into this desert land to worship and multiply in peace. "Martin Cole, I hold to the spirit of our fathers," replied Naab, like one reading from the Old Testament. As he lay there the strange words of the Mormons linked the hard experience of the last few days with the stern reality of the present. The formal speech, the Biblical references, recalled to the reviving Hare that he was still in the land of the Mormons.
But I've suffered enough at the hands of Dene." "You would cast the Scriptures in my teeth, and liken this man to one who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves. "Yes, August Naab, I know," replied the little man, bitterly.
"Martin Cole, I will not go a hair's-breadth out of my way for Dene or any other man. The stately answer might have come from a Scottish Covenanter or a follower of Cromwell. "He's the fellow sent into southern Utah to spy out the cattle thieves. "Leave him here," said one, addressing a gray-bearded giant. The desert still stretched before him, the appalling thing that had overpowered him with its deceiving purple distance. The words stung John Hare's fainting spirit into life. Hare is soon drawn into a web of adventure and intrigue over land, water, and the heart of a beautiful woman, all set against the sweeping backdrop of the Wild West. But Mescal is being relentlessly pursued by Holderness, a man who is not to be trusted.
As Hare is nursed back to health on Naab’s ranch, he finds himself irresistibly attracted to Naab’s adopted daughter, Mescal. John Hare lies dying in the desert until he is discovered and saved by the kind and generous rancher, August Naab. “They say I fell among thieves….I’ve fallen among saints as well.” Genre: antique The Heritage of the Desert Zane Grey
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