Sacketts don't hunt trouble-trouble comes to them! And it sure came to me, Tell Sackett! I was footloose and fancy-free, with nothing but my thirty pounds of golddust and nuggets, me and my hair to worry about till I got to the ferry at the Colorado River. Trouble found me there. Trouble looked like a black-eyed, black-haired woman, pretty as a young filly and a hundred times more set to pitch, buck and throw any man. Trouble looked like a gang of hardcases, too, guns at their belts, fast horses under their saddles, and ideas about other folks' gold in their heads. And trouble looked like the desert across the river, the toughest desert on the continent, the MOJAVE CROSSING...