Riding High
By Dale Chase
The Yuma Prison warden made light of my release on December 24, 1889. “A fine Christmas present,” he said.
I wanted to remind him I’d done my time so there was no gift about it, but in my five years inside his hell hole I’d learned to keep my mouth shut. “Yes, sir,” I said.
“You stay out of trouble, Roy Shuster,” he counseled.
“Yes, sir.”
“You can go now.”
At last I was out of prison duds, wearing new pants, shirt, and coat, but still in prison issue boots and without any hat. Or gun, of course. I felt somewhat light in going about without pistol and rig, but knew I’d best get used to it.
When I walked into Yuma proper, a town of little consequence, but paradise to me, I knew folks would spot me being a released convict because getting on the other side of
