The Girl from Arizona

The clear call rang out, breaking the afternoon stillness of the ranch, but there was no response, and after waiting a moment Miss Graham gave her wheeled chair a gentle push, which sent it rolling smoothly across the porch of the ranch house, down the inclined plane, which served the purpose of steps, to the lawn. It was very hot, the sun was blazing down as only an Arizona sun can blaze, and not a breath of air was stirring. But Miss Graham was accustomed to the heat and the glare. She paused for a moment, gazing off over the vast prairie to the California mountains, nearly a hundred miles away.