Image from https://drivetofive.com/2013/12/26/arizonas-salt-river-canyon-in-the-ilx/
I approached the wooden structure from the southwest as I hiked in over the hill-line. From the distance it appeared to be as small as a child's play house, and as I got closer I realized I wasn't half wrong.
It was one room with a sagging front porch. Long ago that porch would have welcomed a passing traveler beckoning them to visit a while in the shade. Maybe even sit a while in a rocking chair. Today though it warned that trespassing in this place could result in death. The two beams holding the porch up were rotted and bore- ridden. A strong wind could have made easy work of them.
No door hung on the front of the shack which was surprising since metal bars prevented entry (or exit) from the four windows in the structure. Perhaps it had been a jail at one time, housing the meanest and worst criminals in all of Arizona, but that was in the long past. Anyone held prisoner in this structure could kick their way through the rotted boards. Cracks the size of fingers let the sunlight in. If mud mortar had been used to fill the cracks, it had long since dried up and fallen out.
The face of the building seemed to speak to me. The sightless windows, shuttered with bars, stared out at me with a silent plea for help. Sadness filled me. Someone's hopes and dreams had been abandoned here. If it had been a jail, perhaps someone had spent his or her last hours in this building only to be forgotten over time. What someone had constructed lay dying here in the hot sun.
I shuddered slightly and pushed on.
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