1914. A romantic tale by the master of the western. The book begins: When Madeline Hammond stepped from the train at El Cajon, New Mexico, it was nearly midnight, and her first impression was of a huge dark space of cool, windy emptiness, strange and silent, stretching away under great blinking white stars. Miss, there's no one to meet you, said the conductor, rather anxiously. I wired my brother, she replied. The train being so late-perhaps he grew tired of waiting. He will be here presently. But, if he should not come-surely I can find a hotel?
1914. A romantic tale by the master of the western. The book begins: When Madeline Hammond stepped from the train at El Cajon, New Mexico, it was nearly midnight, and her first impression was of a huge dark space of cool, windy emptiness, strange and silent, stretching away under great blinking white stars. Miss, there's no one to meet you, said the conductor, rather anxiously. I wired my brother, she replied. The train being so late-perhaps he grew tired of waiting. He will be here presently. But, if he should not come-surely I can find a hotel?