The Heart of the Desert Book PDF Download

ly released the slender hands and leaned back in his
chair. The sun had crossed the peach orchard slowly, breathlessly. It
cast long, slanting shadows along the beautiful alfalfa fields and
turned the willows by the irrigating ditch to a rosy gray. As the sun
sank, song-birds piped and lizards scuttled along the porch rail. The
loveliest part of the New Mexican day had come.

The two young Northerners watched the man who was swinging through the
orchard. It was Cartwell. Despite his breadth of shoulder, the young
Indian looked slender, though it was evident that only panther strength
could produce such panther grace. He crossed the lawn and stood at the
foot of the steps; one hand crushed his soft hat against his hip, and
the sun turned his close-cropped black hair to blue bronze. For an
instant none of the three spoke. It was as if each felt the import of
this meeting which was to be continued through such strange
vicissitudes. Cartwell, however, was not looking at DeWitt but at
Rhoda, and she re