To the south was the sagebrush, a soft, gray-green carpet under the sun.

The sky was blue, the clouds were handfuls of clean cotton floating lazily.

Of the night's storm remained no trace save slippery mud when his horse struck a patch of clay, which was not often, and the packed sand still wet and soggy from the beating rain.
Rock City showed black and inhospitable even in the sunlight.

The rock walls rose sheer, the roofs slanted rakishly, the signs scratched on the rock by facetious riders were pointless and inane.

Lone picked his way through the crooked defile that was marked MAIN STREET on the corner of the first huge boulder and came abruptly into the road.