Death Comes for the Archbishop — Willa Cather

The traveller dismounted drew from his pocket a much worn book and baring his head knelt at the foot of the cruciform tree Under his buckskin riding coat he wore a black vest and the cravat and collar of a churchman A young priest at his devotions and a priest in a thousand one knew at a glance His bowed head was not that of an ordinary man it was built for the seat of a fine intelligence His brow was open generous reflective his features handsome and somewhat severe There was a singular elegance about the hands below the fringed cuffs of the buckskin jacket Everything showed him to be a man of gentle birth brave sensitive courteous His manners even when he was alone in the desert were distinguished He had a kind of courtesy toward himself toward his beasts toward the juniper tree before which he knelt and the God whom he was addressing