Fredonia, Arizona did a decent job living down what some may have considered an indecent reputation.
He didn’t care about those polygamous sects. Whether or not they were still around, which he figured they probably were, wasn’t his concern. There were bigger fish to fry.
It was coming up on three o’clock.
He pulled off the road, crossed a cattle guard, stopped the truck and grabbed a can of Coors out of the cooler.
Just one bar of cell service on the phone so he could put through the call to Jerome, Idaho.
Once the man up there knew what he’d acquired, he figured his life would never again be the same.
