The Rich Desert

The American Trail, American Trail, blazed in blood, defended in blood, up to ten. The rich desert.

Thousands of square miles, yellow, red sandstone, rock formations, cactus. The desert, graveyard of legend. Then here 150 million years.

Hasn't changed much in the last million. Graveyard of men through sunburns. A white man sunburned almost black. There's water in the desert if you can find it. There's somewhere in the purple shimmering haze. It'll be over pretty soon.

First we'll drive in mad. The sun will do the rest. The man scoops the water up with his hands. I hope to be now. Some of my man found you wondering about the desert.

Oh, the man is alive. Safely. He's kitchening. I don't know. What's your name, son? How long you been down here in the desert? He got killed. You, uh, when they brought you in, recall where I came to again.

Might be lucky, son. Might find it again. Oh, find it. Well, I came here from Kentucky 25 years ago. Claimed a thousand acres of land. Look out the window there. Green cabbages, green vegetables. Fire land out here in this desert.

Now the land's in the fertile valley. Clear profit. But to been hard work. I have known fellas spent a lifetime in the desert looking to get rich quick. It died broke over there by the fence.

Lots married. Mary Hawkins. She's like my own daughter. Well, isn't she? I raised her since he was three years old. I had to take it from a patch as a folks were. Maflicant. Wagon train wiped out.

Now, Mary! Golden hair, white sombrero, rose-colored riding skirt. The girl walks over to them smiling. She says, you look much better now. He says, I feel better too. You gonna stay with it? I'd like to, but.