When Matt Jensen first encountered the town of Purgatory, Arizona, it rose from the prairie in front of him so indistinct in form and substance that it resembled nothing more than a rise of hillocks and rocks. But as he drew closer, the hillocks and rocks began to take on shape and character until it was obviously a town.

It had been a long ride since the last water hole, and Matt’s canteen was down to less than a third full. But the sight of a town gave promise of more water, so he stopped, and allowed himself a long drink.

“I wish I had some for you, Spirit,” he said, patting the animal on the neck. “But there’s water just ahead, and I promise you your fill, as well as a good rubdown and a supper of oats.”

Matt hooked the empty canteen onto his saddle, then slapped his legs against Spirit’s side to urge him on down into the town. A rabbit jumped up alongside the road and ran in front of him for a little while before darting off to one side. A hand-painted sign greeted him at the edge of town.