Showing posts with label NM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NM. Show all posts

Thursday, August 8, 2019

Meow


dontravis.com blog post #349
  
Courtesy of en.wikipedia.org.
I didn’t realize it until I posted this story, but this is the third tale in a row featuring an animal… with a tail. Sorry, couldn’t resist that.

Let’s visit another part of the great state of New Mexico with the following piece of fiction. As the name infers, Silver City is a mining town. Copper, gold, silver, and other minerals have attracted people throughout history. Silver City sits in a valley which was once the site of an Apache camp. Spaniards mined copper there. After the Civil War, a settlement called La Cienega de San Vicente (Oasis of St. Vincent) took root there. The town of Silver City was founded in the summer of 1870 after discovery of silver ore at Chloride Flats, west of the farm of Captain John M. Bullard and his brother James. The captain was killed by Apache raiders on February 23, 1871 and is supposedly buried in the first grave in the city cemetery.

The town suffered substantial violent crime during the 1870s, but Grant County Sheriff Harvey Whitehill started putting the brakes on the trouble. He was the first lawman to arrest Billy the Kid… in fact, he did it twice. The town’s first marshal, Dangerous Dan Tucker, one of Whitehill’s former deputies continued to bring things under control. Now Silver City is considered one of the safest towns in the state… until our fictitious killer shows up. Now to the story.

*****
MEOW
Monday morning, Jonathan Biggersby listened to the excited chatter around the water cooler at Mars and Larson Architects, LLC. Sarah Reynolds, the firm’s receptionist, professed to be terrorized by the sixth murder in Silver City in the last six months. Most of the men kept a stiff upper lip—preferring to confine their pithy comments to why the authorities failed to catch the killer—but the women were clearly frightened.
An amateur historian, Jonathan knew this southwest New Mexico town was born in violence in the 1870s, but in recent years it was rated 63rd safest out of 100 cities and towns of any size in the nation. But now an elusive murderer sowed fear and suspicion throughout this town of 10,000 souls.
Several of the M&L employees expressed a fear of venturing outside their locked homes at night. Some of them curtailed their children’s evening activities, adversely impacting attendance at Western New Mexico University’s Mustangs sports venues.
Tired of all the fear mongering, he returned to his desk to resume work on drawings of a small apartment complex. He worked carefully and efficiently, even though a part of his mind mulled over the water cooler topic.
According to news reports, Dr. Josephine Rasmussen had been garroted in her home this past Wednesday night. Three weeks prior, it had been John Harginess, a pastor returning home after a welfare visit to one of his parishioners. The good parson had been found stabbed to death in Big Ditch Park near the city’s police department. Before that a gardener died of a gunshot wound, teenage athlete Billy Boyce had his throat slashed, and…. Jonathan took a moment to shake out his tense shoulder muscles as the names and circumstances of the other two killings escaped him.
The only thing that led the police to conclude these disparate killings were committed by the same individual was a one-inch square note with a printed number accurately enumerating the victim, each in turn. According to news reports, the authorities confirmed the handwriting was done by the same hand—likely a man in his prime—but they learned nothing else from the deliberately placed clues.
This modern killer was beginning to spread as much terror as some of the more notable characters who resided in, visited, or raided the town in the old days. People such as Billy the Kid, Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch, Cochise, Geronimo, Victorio, and Mangas Coloradas. Jonathan, a mature, rational man, refused to be ruffled by the notorious modern-day killer, but he did go to the trouble of obtaining a concealed carry permit, and his little APV .25 caliber semiautomatic pistol hung heavy in his right coat pocket at this very moment.
Jonathan finished his workday and, as usual, accompanied two of his workmates to a neighborhood bar for one glass of the house ale before saying his goodbyes. His companions hoisted glasses to his departure and warned him to guard against being Number 7, a raucous way of saying be careful.
In deference to the humid August afternoon weather in full monsoon flow pattern, he loosened his tie and shrugged out of his suit coat before sliding into the driver’s seat of his 2015 Audi sedan. The drive was a short one… as were most drives in Silver City. He parked in the driveway in front of his detached one-car garage and walked around the front of the house to pick up his mail and latch the gate, which was unaccountably agape.
Jonathan shuffled through the four pieces of mail—three bills and a letter from his cousin George in Albuquerque--before looking around for Oscar. The black tom with red-rimmed eyes usually met him at the front gate. Jonathan always let the cat out as he went to work each day, and they met one another in the evening on the front porch. Today… no Oscar. Unusual but not unheard of. The cat was an independent sort, but he had become a great comfort after Jonathan’s divorce two years ago.
He paused in the front yard to admire the structure he called home. Best thing about it? It was paid off. Free and clear. He retained the blonde brick, pitched roof house in the divorce settlement, because Elizabeth wanted to go to the big city. Albuquerque wasn’t that appealing to him, but it must hold an attraction for some.
He stooped to smell some of the miniature red roses Elizabeth had planted along the front of the house. They drooped from the heat, but even so, emitted a nice aroma. Tripping up the steps, he keyed the lock and entered his home. After securing the door behind him, he tossed his coat on the back of the couch, taking comfort from the thump of the little gun in one pocket against the cushion, and opened the drapes to look out the picture window, pleased by the condition of his green, flower-rimmed yard. Intelligent watering. That was the key.
As he stood taking pleasure in the moment, something brushed his leg. He glanced down. Oscar sat on his hind legs and looked up to greet him.
“Meow.”
“How in the blazes did you get in?”
Had he forgotten to let the cat out this morning? No, he distinctly remembered….
A chill played up his back as he lunged for his coat.


*****

Oh, boy! Some of you are going to be pleased as Punch I gave you the opportunity to finish the story. Others will be red-faced mad at me for not doing so. But it’s up to you, dear reader, to complete the story. I hope you’ll send me your resolutions at don.travis@aol.com.

Likewise, some of you at Worwrights Writing Class will take me to task for telling a story, instead of showing. And in truth, this is telling. But some stories are made to be told, not shown.

Dreamspinner’s publishing date for my next BJ Vinson book, The Voxlightner Scandal, is November 19, 2019. A buy link follows:  http://www.dsppublications.com/books/upcoming-releases-c

Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

My personal links: (Note the change in the Email address because I’m still getting remarks on the old dontravis21@gmail.com. PLEASE DON’T USE THAT ONE.)
                                                                                                    
Facebook: www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982
Twitter: @dontravis3

Buy links to Abaddon’s Locusts:


See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.


Thursday, April 7, 2016

A Short Journey to Otherworld, New Mexico



This blog was originally intended to extol the beauty and marvels of this great State of New Mexico, but over time has wandered into many other fields, such as last week’s post highlighting the faults and foibles of one Don Travis. This week, I’d like to share a little more about our state.

One of my favorite spots… aside from the Valles Caldera area, which is extra, extra special—remains the Bisti/De-Na-Zin Wilderness, an area of around sixty square miles in the badlands south of Farmington. Its otherworldly appearance inspired me to write a novel featuring the area, which is appropriately called The Bisti Business. The book is off the shelves at the moment, but Dreamspinner Press has picked up the BJ Vinson mystery novels (of which this is one). I just completed an edit of the first, The Zozobra Incident, for the publisher, and although the release date isn’t yet set, it’s expected to be sometime in September. Bisti will follow that one by about three months, and the third as yet unpublished book in the line, The City of Rocks, will follow the second one by about three months.

But back to my tale. While I love the area and the spooky rock formations of Bisti, it is such a long trip from Albuquerque that I haven’t been back lately.  So imagine my surprise, when my photographer/geologist/computer guru neighbor and friend, Joe Bridwell, told me about some hoodoos lying just west of Rio Rancho. Folks, that's no more than fifty miles from where we were. Now Joe has traipsed this country both by foot and by vehicle far more than I and is totally fascinated by the Bisti hoodoos. Any hoodoos. I should have known better, but I opened my mouth anyway.

“Rio Rancho. Our Rio Rancho. The one across the river and up the way?”
“That’s the one.”
“Don’t believe it,” I scoffed. “Hoodoos are up in the badlands country.”

Never one to permit a challenge to his veracity, Joe plopped me in his four-wheel drive Nissan SUV and headed west at breakneck speed. Now, I don’t entirely deserve credit for the trip for two reasons: Joe just spent an immense amount of money on a new camera he wanted to try out, and he had convinced himself by studying Google Earth Landsat photographs he’d discovered three new hoodoos in that area simply by looking at shadows.

At any rate, we raced to Rio Rancho, sped through the town on Northern Boulevard until we ran out of road, turned right, jogged left and somehow headed west to the Rio Puerco country. And sure enough, as we dropped off the mesa a whole new world appeared. There were distant buttes rising like monoliths from the desert floor. Broken country... not like badlands, but getting closer.

Then to my delight and amazement, we came upon an area of real hoodoos carved by wind and rain and time. For those of you unfamiliar with hoodoos, they are eroded columns of softer stone and shale capped by stone of a harder material (sandstone, for example) which often take the shape of flat dishs or French berets. These produce very exotic-looking images which remain with the viewer for a long time.

After feasting our eyes on a dozen or so of these geological wonders, we spotted a big column of rock about a half mile to the south which looked to be what threw the shadows on the Google Earth photos. On closer inspection, that proved to be the case. Joe identified the projections at the edge of the rock shelf as hoodoos, but they appear to me to be rock columns rather than hoodoos. Remember, he’s the geologist, and I’m the writer. Nonetheless, our dispute remains unresolved. Joe captured a magnificent shot of the formation with its stone pillars in the foreground with the night sky in the background. So tell me what you think. Are they hoodoos or not?
 
Courtesy: Dr. Joseph Bridwell, Rio Puerco Hoodoos
 *****
Thanks for reading. I really appreciate someone who takes her or his time to read something of mine… or something of anyone’s. Readers are absolutely necessary for the orderly function of our world.

Feel free to lodge your comments at dontravis21@gmail.com. I’d be interested to know if you consider the spires in the photograph to be hoodoos or not.


New Posts published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

A Little Something from the Fourth Novel in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series

Given that DreamSpinner Press is into the publication process for the BJ Vinson Series (the first book is due out somewhere around September with the other two to follow at four-month intervals), I thought I’d give you something from the fourth book with the working title of THE LOVELY PINES. 

This novel, presently a work in process, takes place in 2009 and is set in and around the Albuquerque area of New Mexico. The story begins as our intrepid sleuth, BJ Vinson, receives a visit from an individual he had run across but never met during the Bisti Business. Ariel Gonda, a Swiss national, has left the Alfano Winery operation in Napa Valley and purchased the Lovely Pines Winery in the tiny, fictitious settlement of Valle Plácido a little north and east of Albuquerque. He has come to see BJ because of a break-in at his winery.

 I chose this scene from the beginning of Chapter 2 because it shows some of the history of the area… a subject that is terribly interesting to me.
*****
THE LOVELY PINES

     I drove to Valle Plácido directly from the house the next morning, saving a trip downtown and then a run back north. In a bucolic mood, I took the old Highway 85 to Bernalillo about fifteen miles north of Albuquerque.
     Bernalillo was an interesting town, at least to history buffs like me. The area had been more or less continually inhabited for probably close to 1,000 years, first as an indigenous Anasazi town, and later by the Spaniards when they arrived in the Sixteenth Century to claim it as a trading center and military outpost. The settlers who founded Alburquerque—somewhere along the way, the city lost an “R” from its name—had begun their historic journey from here.
     In one of those odd coincidences, Albuquerque is the governmental seat of Bernalillo County, while Bernalillo is the seat of Sandoval County. Go figure. Today, some 7,000 or so souls reside there, about seventy percent of whom trace their roots back to Hispanic origins. My father was fond of telling me that in the old days every bar in the town—and there were plenty of them—was adjacent to a service station because it was illegal to sell liquor on Sundays back then. Of course, the filling stations remained open, and a thirsty motorist was usually able to get something besides oil and gas. The present day town fathers like to say Bernalillo is the gateway to the Jemez Mountain Range to the west and the Sandias to the east.
     At the north end of town, I hung a right on Highway 550 and crossed over I-25, climbing steadily toward the mountains. Before long, I passed through another former Anasazi settlement renamed Placitas, which meant Little Town. With its large adobe homes tucked into folds in the foothills or hanging on the slopes, Placitas had managed to bring some of the famed Santa Fe style south.
     Shortly after leaving the town limits, I entered an even smaller settlement about whose history I had no knowledge—Valle Plácido. All I knew of the place was that people had been growing grapes and making wine here for centuries. New Mexico was one of the earliest wine making centers in North America.
     As instructed by Ariel Gonda, I turned north on a well-graded gravel road and saw the Winery about 500 yards ahead of me. My first impression was of a French chateau plopped down in the middle of New Mexico. As I grew nearer, the image was reinforced. I passed over a cattle guard behind an impressive black, wrought iron gate anchored to a solid four-foot stone wall stretching off in both directions. I assumed it enclosed the entire place, or at least the ten acres of the winery. The wall would probably have stopped a tank but provided little protection from stealthy intruders afoot. The vineyard sat off to the east.
     Up close, the stately house did not seem so foreboding, less of a Gothic manor harboring psychopaths and star-crossed lovers. House, of course, was a misnomer. It truly was a chateau, even though it was small by European standards. I judged it to be three floors of around 1,500 square feet each. The gray stone from which it was constructed wasn’t native rock. The copper Mansard roof had a cloudy, green patina. Doors, windows, and the roofline beneath the gables were all framed in brown brick.
*****

It is amazing how often we drive down familiar roads and streets giving little or no thought to what has happened on those roads before our passage. Not every site must have seen a famous battle or sparked a revolution to have significance. The fact that the small New Mexico town of Bernalillo was founded and abandoned a thousand years ago by an indigenous people, reclaimed by Spanish settlers, and then come under the authority of Anglo conquerors is meaningful. Many New Mexicans, both native and adopted, have little appreciation of the fact that our state is one of the oldest wine-producing areas in what is now the United States. Fascinating.

I’ll make a deal with you. You keep reading, and I’ll keep writing. Feel free to contact me at dontravis21@gmail.com.

New posts are published at 6 a.m. each Thursday

Thursday, July 30, 2015

MEET A CRUSTY OLD SOUL FROM THE BISTI BUSINESS

Have you ever met a crusty old soul you don’t like, but can’t say you dislike him (or her), either? Meet Sam Dunkard, the manager of a Giant Service Station in Farmington, New Mexico. When you run across someone like him, you wonder if he hates his fellow man or if he’s just so dedicated to minding his own business it gets in the way of being helpful.

In the following scene from Chapter 15 of THE BISTI BUSINESS, our PI, BJ Vinson, and Aggie Alfano are following up on a lead in their search for Aggie’s younger brother, Lando.

*****
Sam Dunkard, the old crab who managed the Giant Service Station on Main a few blocks from the Trail’s End, rightly assumed he didn’t need to talk to us because he’d already told everything he knew to the “effing” Sheriff’s Office. To make matters worse from his standpoint, Plainer had been by to ask his own questions. The attendant, somewhere in his mid-fifties, got as much out of his five-four frame as possible by standing ramrod straight in scuffed high-heeled cowboy boots. Thumbs hooked in old-fashioned yellow suspenders gave him an air of defiance. It took some patience on my part and some pleading by Aggie to get him to give us the time of day.
“I dunno why I gotta go to the trouble of doing this three times. Twice oughta be one too many.” But he was weakening.
“Because this man’s brother is missing and may be in trouble. The sheriff is looking for him, but Mr. Alfano would appreciate anything we can learn on our own.”
“Told them two law dogs the only reason I recall the guy is because of that flashy car. A fella could spot it coming a mile off even if it was dirty as hell.”
“Dirty?”
“You know, dusty; kinda like the kid driving it. His eyeballs matched his car; you know, orange. Looked like he’d been driving all night. Figured he drove ten…twelve hours straight from somewhere or the other.”
“But he looked okay? I mean, he wasn’t hurt or anything?” Aggie fished around in his pocket. “I’ve got a picture of him. Could you confirm he was the driver?”
“Don’t need it,” Dunkard said. “Looked a whole lot like you. Like a clone that didn’t grow up as big as you.” Finally, the man glanced at the picture. “Yep, that’s him.”
“And this was when?” I asked.
“Fifteenth,” he said after thinking it over. “My brother-in-law spells me at noon on Wednesdays, so I recollect what day it was.”
“What time?”
“Early morning. Maybe eight…nine.”
“And he was alone?”
“Yep. All by himself.” Sam Dunkard studied us a moment. “Nervous as hell, he was. Kept looking over his shoulder. Made me think it mighta had something to do with the fella asking about him a little later.”
“Asking about my brother?” Aggie said.
“Asking about the car. He wanted to know if I’d seen an orange Porsche.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Said, sure. Not more’n an hour ago. Man claimed he was supposed to meet his friend but got held up by a detour on the way down from Colorado. I never heard of no detour. Course, coulda been up the road apiece, I suppose.”
“What did this man look like? Blond, around the same age as the driver?” I fed him a vague description of Norville.
“Naw. Older. Hard-looking customer. Don’t recall him too much, but think he was sandy-haired, but thinning. Probably somewhere around forty. Stocky.”
“What was he driving?” I asked.
“Don’t remember. Something bland. Brown Ford or something.”
“Any nicks, dings, dents, decals—anything that stood out?”
“Naw. It was just a plain manila envelope”
“I don’t suppose you noticed his license plate,” I said.
“Sure did. It was a New Mexico plate. And he claimed he drove down from Colorado way.” Sam Dunkard frowned. “Could of, I guess, if he was on a trip.”
“How can you be so sure about the license plate?” Aggie asked. “You aren’t even sure what kind of car it was.”
“License plates is my hobby; son. Cars, ain’t. Be surprised how many of these United States I can count every day.”
“Do you remember the plate number?” I asked.
“Hell no. That ain’t part of the game.”
“Did you tell Detective Joe about this man?”
“Sure did. Told Lonzo all of it.” He gave a sour look. “Maybe I held out on that other fella, that BLM man. Too smooth by half.”
By the time we got back into our rental, Aggie looked ten years older than when we had met a few days back. He was silent, and I left him alone.

*****
You wouldn’t think an orange Porsche would be so hard to find, would you? But it deals BJ a great deal of trouble as he chases it clear across this great State of New Mexico.

Keep up the reading. I might be old-fashioned, but I think that still the best way to get information … and some pleasure.

Be happy to hear from any of you who’d like to make contact.


New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Let’s Revisit THE ZOZOBRA INCIDENT This Week

It’s been a while since we took a look at THE ZOZOBRA INCIDENT, so I thought we’d visit the novel again for this post. I had fun writing the book – and I’m convinced that’s the way it should always be for an author. It isn’t, of course. I’ve written books that were difficult and stressful in the birthing process. But not ZOZOBRA or THE BISTI BUSINESS, for that matter.
I chose the following passage (the opening of Chapter 7, Page 68) because we meet a new character at this point, and I like the way BJ looks at her. I also like the mental musings over a mural in his country club’s foyer that depicts Albuquerque’s founding in 1706 and the loss of the extra “A” in the city’s spelling. In my own head, I hear BJ toying with the word “foyer,” and believe him to be sophisticated enough to pronounce it “foi(a),” and plebeian enough to say “foi(yer).”
At any rate, he’s just received a warning to drop the case he’s pursuing that includes a death threat, and it’s pissed him off. Let’s take a look.

*****

Still steaming over some thug believing he could intimidate me, Thursday morning, I handed over the blackmailer’s envelopes and notes, along with Del’s fingerprint card to Gloria McInnes, who looked down her thin-bridged nose at me like an English blueblood. She wasn’t. She was born and raised in the little community of Algodones north of Albuquerque and was as common as shoe leather. I often wondered at the ribald jokes she must have endured after fifteen years of working in a place called K-Y Lab. The joint was named after its founders, Sol King and Jacob Young, not the water-soluble gel that prompted erotic reactions in countless giggling teenagers and horny young adults. I asked her to print me, as well, because I had handled the envelope before tumbling to what it was. I wanted her to test the documents for whatever forensic evidence they might contain.
“Hmm,” she ran a casual eye over the crude death threat. “Somebody’s getting personal.”
“Yeah, and that was his mistake. I’m going to get the bastard.”
“And I’ll bet you do. Okay, BJ, I’ll run a prelim for you, but I’ll need 48 hours. Of course, if I pick up DNA I’ll need some extra time, but I’ll give you what I can Monday afternoon.”
“I need it a little quicker.”
“Saturday’s the best I can do.”
“Didn’t know you were open on Saturday.”
“Just for you, sweetheart. Give me until about 6 o’clock that afternoon, okay?”
With that promise, I set off for 3301 Juan Tabo Blvd. NE, which was, indeed, a Ship-n-Mail store in a strip mall of the kind architects call decorated sheds. There I ran into a stone wall. The thin-chested teenaged clerk refused, under penalty of law, he claimed, to reveal any information about the box holder. There was nothing to do but plan on spending Saturday hunkered down in the parking lot to wait for someone to pick up Del’s envelope.
Stymied for the moment, I headed for the country club. On the way, I used the hands-free phone to call Charlie and ask him to check out Belinda Gerard. He had nothing to report on the Royal Crest yet, but said he was working on it.
The summer day was chilled by the monsoon system that usually arrived in July or August to deliver a fair portion of our nine and a half inches of annual rainfall. As the thunder and lightning cooperated by hovering to the west over Mt. Taylor, one of the Navajos’ four sacred mountains, I braved the elements and swam for a while, hoping Paul would show up to relieve the youth occupying the lifeguard’s chair. He didn’t.
On my way out, I paused to view the mural in the club’s foyer. Done in the primitive style of Diego Rivera, it portrayed the founding of the Villa de Alburquerque in 1706 with the arrival of twelve families from the military compound of Bernalillo a few miles up the Rio Grande. It took us over 150 years to lose the second “R” in the city’s name. The dark earth tones of the mural failed to work their usual magic. My spirit remained troubled.
That changed when Paul answered my phone call to his dorm later that evening and agreed to come over. He showed up at my place around nine, and gave my morale a much-needed boost.

*****
As always, thanks for reading.

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.



Thursday, January 15, 2015

A Quick Visit to Columbus, NM via THE CITY OF ROCKS


The Village of Columbus, NM
We’ll visit my novel, THE CITY OF ROCKS, for today’s post in order to return to what I always intended with the blog: to highlight places of interest in the great State of New Mexico. And the little border town of Columbus is unique among them. As our intrepid Confidential Investigator, BJ Vinson, speeds down the highway on the way to the town, he reviews some of the history of the place. The following scene takes place in Chapter 4 of the book.
*****
THE CITY OF ROCKS

I sped down Highway 11 toward Columbus. It wasn’t the quickest route to the Boot Heel country, but the town had once played a dramatic part in a clash between two nations, and as a history buff, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to sop up some of that flavor. Besides, it was getting late in the day for a drive over into Hidalgo County where the M Lazy M was located. I planned on remaining overnight in the little village named for Christopher Columbus just north of the border across from Palomas, Mexico.
The Impala breezed south over a landscape reminiscent of the drive between Deming and Las Cruces: flat, high desert terrain broken by blue-shadowed mountains in the distance. Heat waves rising off the asphalt were pleasantly hypnotic.
Columbus is an official, twenty-four-hour POE—Point of Entry—between the two nations, although it sits about three miles north of the actual demarcation line. Border City is where the crossings actually occur. Its proximity to the Mexican State of Chihuahua is what gave the place its brush with history.
A Casualty of the Villistas' Raid
         The actual story is long and convoluted, as well as highly controversial. Two revolutionaries, Venustiano Carranza and Francisco Villa, better known as Pancho, tossed out a dictator named Victoriano Huerta and then turned on one another. A Columbus merchant and arms dealer by the name of Ravel supposedly sold defective ammunition to Pancho Villa. When the guerilla demanded a refund, the merchant reputedly told him the Ravels no longer dealt with Mexican bandits.
On the morning of March 9, 1916, one of Villa’s generals attacked Columbus with more than 500 men. The twenty-four-hour invasion burned down a significant portion of the town and killed fourteen American soldiers together with ten residents. Another eighty or so revolutionaries were dead or mortally wounded. The raid led let to General John J. Pershing’s Punitive Expedition deep into Mexico.
My initial glimpse of Columbus was as a disruption astraddle the flat, monotonous highway. After entering the town of mostly one-storied adobe affairs—some painted in brash colors of green or pink—I found a bed and breakfast and registered for the night.
Santa Fe New Mexican Headline
*****
In his brief, overnight stay there, BJ takes time to visit some of the historic relics, including Pancho Villa’s death mask, before departing for the M Lazy M Ranch.

I hope you enjoyed this abbreviated look at the border village of Columbus, New Mexico. Keep on reading, guys.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.


Thursday, January 16, 2014

City of Rocks – On the Way to the Boot Heel Country

As a matter of historical interest, the Boot Heel part of New Mexico and a good portion of southern Arizona (including Tucson) was acquired from Mexico by the Gadsden Purchase signed by the US on December 30, 1853 and approved by Mexico (after some changes imposed by the US Senate) on June 8, 1854. The treaty settled a dispute over almost 30,000 square miles of territory following the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which ended the Mexican-American War.

The third in the BJ Vinson mystery series takes place in the New Mexico portion of this acquisition. The as yet unpublished book is THE CITY OF ROCKS, a title suggested by a 1,280-acre New Mexico state park of the same name situated north of Deming near the small town of Faywood. Thirty million-year-old rocks create what look to be an ancient city situated in the middle of grasslands. Deming is not in New Mexico’s Boot Heel county, but the action in the book is centered on a ranch farther south and west in that part of the state. The following are some excerpts from the novel which show the reader portions of this beautiful state as BJ heads from Albuquerque to the M Lazy M Ranch. The hash tags indicate succeeding scenes from the novel.
###
Las Cruces, the county seat of Doña Ana County, was a city of around 75,000 perched on the Chihuahuan desert flats of the Mesilla Valley. This flood plain of the Rio Grande boasted pecan orchards, as well as onion, chili, and other vegetable fields. The city was also a rail center and the home of the state’s only Land Grant School, New Mexico State University. The stark, striking Organ Mountains rose abruptly to the east.
I parked in front of the East University Avenue headquarters of State Police District Four around 8:00 a.m. I wanted to follow protocol and have Dispatch let the officers on the scene know I was on the way.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled in behind a swarm of activity. Emergency flares blocked the westbound lanes of the highway. I pulled up to the uniformed patrolman diverting traffic to the eastbound lanes and identified myself. He used his shoulder unit to announce my arrival and then waved me over onto the verge. It looked as if the crime unit had about finished with their work. In the distance, I could see a banged up black Dodge Ram pickup upside down snug against the corridor fence. A man in civilian attire detached himself from a small group and started for me as soon as I got out of the car.
###
I headed for Deming, hoping to locate some of the dead man’s family or familiars who might be able to give me a lead before driving to the M Lazy M Ranch. The sixty-mile stretch between Las Cruces and Deming was relatively flat and dominated by creosote, honey mesquite, and yucca. An ungodly amount of cacti and spiked plants of every size and description lived among these anchors. Except, of course, the tall, stately saguaros the entire world associated with the American Southwest. To the best of my knowledge, those grew only in Arizona.
Road kill revealed the makeup of the local fauna: jackrabbits, desert terrapins, kangaroo rats, and the occasional rattlesnake. I even saw the desiccated carcass of a coyote hanging over the fence bordering the Interstate. Of course, in the Cooke’s Range to the north, there would be cougar and black bear and mule deer. The nearby Florida Mountains boasted ibex and mountain sheep with occasional unconfirmed sightings of the Mexican jaguar. I know this because I’m a confirmed history buff, especially the history of my native state.
The day was hot beneath a blue-flame sky, probably around a hundred degrees. But like we’re fond of saying down here, it’s a dry heat, so it doesn’t hurt much, especially at an altitude of three-quarters of a mile above sea level. Dark, menacing thunderheads hovered to the south over Mexico, but the monsoon hadn’t yet taken hold.
Deming, with a population of around 15,000, was the county seat and principal town of Luna County. It is also located in rockhound country. A good part of southwestern New Mexico and southeastern Arizona is a paradise for rock and mineral collecting. Most of the old mines are closed now, but on public land, it’s legal to collect bits and pieces of once-treasured rocks. Geodes. Fire agate. Jasper. Quartz. Azurite. Even turquoise chips can often be found in old dumps.
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I sped down Highway 11 toward Columbus. It wasn’t the quickest route to the Boot Heel country, but the town had once played a dramatic part in a clash between two nations, and as a history buff, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to sop up some of that flavor. Besides, it was getting late in the day for a drive over into Hidalgo County where the M Lazy M was located. I planned on remaining overnight in the little village named for Christopher Columbus just north of the border across from Palomas, Mexico.
The Impala breezed south over a landscape reminiscent of the drive between Deming and Las Cruces: flat, high desert terrain broken by blue-shadowed mountains in the distance. Heat waves rising off the asphalt were pleasantly hypnotic.
Columbus is an official, twenty-four-hour POE—Point of Entry—between the two nations, although it sits about three miles north of the actual demarcation line. Border City is where the crossings actually occur. Its proximity to the Mexican State of Chihuahua is what gave the place its brush with history.
The actual story is long and convoluted, as well as highly controversial. Two Mexican revolutionaries, Venustiano Carranza and Francisco Villa, better known as Pancho, tossed out a dictator named Victoriano Huerta and then turned on one another. A Columbus merchant and arms dealer by the name of Ravel supposedly sold defective ammunition to Pancho Villa. When the guerrilla demanded a refund, the merchant reputedly told him the Ravels no longer dealt with Mexican bandits.
On the morning of March 9, 1916, one of Villa’s generals attacked Columbus with more than 500 men. The twenty-four-hour invasion burned down a significant portion of the town and killed fourteen American soldiers and ten residents. Another eighty or so revolutionaries were dead or mortally wounded. The raid led let to General John J. Pershing’s Punitive Expedition deep into Mexico.
My initial glimpse of Columbus was as a disruption astraddle the flat, monotonous highway. After entering the town of mostly one-storied adobe affairs—some painted in brash colors of green or pink—I found a bed and breakfast and registered for the night.
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These scenes touch on just a bit of the rich history of our great state. Hope you enjoyed them as much as I did.

Thanks for reading,

Don

Next week: The Boot Heel.

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