Inside this issue: ● Carrizozo Photo Exhibit Pg 7 ● Go outside & play Pg 17 ● Valentine’s Day Pg 18 ● Horoscope Pg 20 ● Word Search Pg 27 ● The Waterboss Pg 30 ● If I had smiles Pg 56 ● Franks marriage Pg 63 ● Get High Pg 80 ● Cloudcroft haunting Pg 88 ● The Voice Pg 96 ● Save the Day Pg 122
FUN AND WONDERFUL ANNOUNCEMENT !!!! Carrizozo's own Tularosa Basin Gallery of Photography [ better known as Photozozo ] is proud to announce that for the 4th year in a row it will be the EXCLUSIVE exhibitor of the New Mexico Magazine Photo Contest Win-ners. This is really a feather in Carrizozo's and Lincoln County's hat and has really contributed in making Carrizozo a goto destination for Art and Photography lovers around the State. This year's contest [ Their 18th Annual Contest] had over 2,200 entries from over 370 different photographers. The 6 chosen judges awarded prizes to just 26 selected images. All those images can be seen in the Magazine or better yet in person at the PhotoZozo Gallery right there in Carrizozo. New Mexico Magazine has chosen this Gallery as its exclusive partner because it is the largest Photography Gallery in the entire State of New Mexico and because it has the space to really exhibit each and every one of the Winning Photos. The Gallery will be hosting the Winners for the entire year but go as soon as you can to really enjoy all these spectacular images. The Tularosa Basin Gallery of Photography is open 6 days of the week...Wednesdays through Mondays---Noon to 5 PM on Sundays and 10 AM to 5 PM the other days of the week. Located at 401 12th Street in Carrizozo, the Gallery also showcases the work of over 35 other Photographers from around the State and all the images have been taken in our lovely State---The Land of Enchantment. This makes the Gallery---New Mexico True.
The Gallery has over 500 images on its walls and panels and all are for sale at very reasonable prices. The images can be purchased as framed photos, matted photos and some as cards as low as $ 5 each. The Gallery is also known for having the largest assortment of photos featuring the beautiful White Sands National Monument. You have to see them to believe them. The Gallery had over 2000 visitors last year and Trip Advisor has it rated as a 5+. If you have not visited the Gallery before, make sure you get over and see it this year---you will not be disappointed !!!
Photo by Catherine Lucas
Photo by Phil Gruis
Photo by Robert Vance
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GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY An original story from the recollections of Junior Thurman "You kids go outside and play til suppertime," mom said, "you're in my way." Now when's the last time you heard that? Been awhile, right. Don't know what we were doin’ in the house anyway, probably waitin’ for supper, which was gonna be awhile. There wasn't much goin’ on in the house, we didn't have a TV, no I-pads, no phones, the air conditioner, when we had one, usually wasn't coolin’ too good. We did have a radio, but one of the tubes was burned out. If an emergency arose needing a telephone, we had to run down the block to our only neighbor who could afford a telephone. Nope, wasn't much goin’ on inside besides supper, and with a family of nine, you didn't wanna be late for supper. Growin’ up in Southeastern NM, in the old days before TV, the dark ages, we spent a lotta time outside playin’ with our toys, mostly rocks and dirt. Tell kids that nowadays, "go outside and play," they'd probably look at you like you're crazy, "play,?, play what? Good grief it's blazing hot outside, I need to rub some sun block on my face and arms, do we even have any?, besides I'm expecting a phone call, and this is "shark week" on TV. I don't even have my shoes on, I hope you don't expect me to go outside barefooted. You know there are child abuse laws." Wow, if I'd ever said anything like that to my parents, I'd have gotten a good dose of child abuse. Reminiscing, I remember. In the summer, we'd have water fights, shirtless, barefooted, chasin’ each other with buckets, water hoses, mouths full of water (which was later outlawed by the Geneva Conventions), often runnin thru the chicken yard to escape, slippin’ &slidin’,
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jumping chicken indiscretions, falling at times, maybe feelin’ a need to hose down later. Every once in a while, a slow chicken got ran over, but usually survived, squawking angrily, feathers ruffled. If you had the water hose and caught someone in the outhouse, things got a little brighter.... At night, it was hide and seek, a game we loved, if you were "it" you hid your eyes up against a tree, the "base," and counted to a hundred, "no peekin’" ha, everybody peeked, an unwritten rule, we lived in a rough neighborh ood, even the word shotgun used to call a seat in a car was ignored. Lookin’ back, I guess "I" was probably one of the nicer "it's", I waited until about the count of nineteen before I started peekin’. Now Jessie Ray, a neighbor, and a couple of my sisters, they'd count to two and start peekin........anyway, the "it" guy, after countin’, stayed close to the taggin’ tree, trying to tag someone runnin’ in out of the darkness. If you got tagged, you were the next "it." Call "Olly, Olly oxen free" and all could come out of their hiding places. Needless to say, at times, "Hide and Seek" could quickly turn into a full contact sport. "I miss the old days" I told my wife just the other day, who was busy cookin’, "By the way, you might add just a little more salt in that soup, and maybe dump in a can of sardines, or anchovies, I said, helpfully. "Will you please get outta my kitchen, we don't have any sardines or anchovies, never have, never will, now, will you please go outside and play, I think I heard Cletus out rattling around in his yard, go talk to him.".....
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The Real Story Behind Valentine’s Day This Valentine’s Day you will probably either send or receive a valentine from someone. More than a billion are expected to be given away in the United States alone. But just like many of our holidays, there’s a lot more behind it than just cards and gifts. There’s a true-life story. It’s a story that teaches us a lot about love, sacrifice, and commitment, the true meaning of Valentine’s Day.
As Valentine was awaiting execution, he fell in love with a blind girl who happened to be the jailer’s daughter. On the eve of his execution, with no writing instruments available, Valentine is said to have written her a sonnet in ink that he squeezed from violets. Legend has it that his words made the blind woman see again. It was a brief romance because the next day Valentine was clubbed to death by Roman executioners.
St. Valentine gave his life so that young couples could be bonded together in holy matrimony. They may have killed the man, but not his spirit. Even centuries after his death, the story of Valentine’s self-sacrificing commitment to love was legendary in Rome. Eventually, he was granted sainthood and the Catholic Church decided to create a feast in his honor. They picked February 14 as the day of Claudius believed celebration because that recruitment for of the ancient belief the army was down that birds Saint Valentine of Rome because Roman men (particularly did not want to leave lovebirds, but also their loves or families behind, so he canceled all owls and doves) began to mate on that very day. marriages and engagements in Rome. It’s surprising to know that Valentine’s Day is Thousands of couples saw their hopes of really founded on the concept of love in marriage. matrimony dashed by the single act of a tyrant. And On this Valentine’s Day, what are you doing to no one seemed interested in standing up to the keep the love in your marriage burning? emperor. While giving a gift and card, having a But a simple Christian priest named Valentine candlelight dinner, and sharing special words of did come forward and stood up for love. He began love are all important, the true spirit of Valentine’s to secretly marry soldiers before they went off to Day needs to last throughout the year. war, despite the emperor’s orders. In 269 A.D., Emperor Claudius found out about the secret ceremonies. He had Valentine thrown into prison and deemed that he would be put to death. In the third century, the Roman Empire was ruled by Emperor Claudius II Gothicus. He was nicknamed Claudius the Cruel because of his harsh leadership and his tendency for getting into wars and abusing his people. In fact, he was getting into so many wars during the third century that he was having a difficult time recruiting enough soldiers.
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February Birthstone Amethyst Pisces February 2019 Horoscope Predictions
Aquarius February 2019 Horoscope
February of 2019 will be a time of renewal and regeneration for Pisces. As it the season of spring, you may be involved in some spring cleaning and may challenge some long-held assumptions regarding certain people or situations that occurred in your life. It is predicted that you will have a fresh start in life and will feel energized by this opportunity to come.
The 1st and 2nd days of the month will need you to connect with the people around really well. You will be establishing specials bonds and connecting on emotional levels. It would be advised to enjoy the little activities which you do with your friends and loved ones and even express your true feelings towards them.
Hold on to this energy as you will find yourself surrounded by the opinions and ideas of people, suggesting that you may enter into a key decision making role which may be either personal or professional. Pisces will have some wonderful, romantic days on the 11th and 12th of February 2019. Enjoy these times to the best as possible. Your romantic partner may give you a token of their love on the 15th and 16th which you should definitely cherish. You will be bursting with emotions on the 21st & 22nd of February 2019. You will want to express these emotions in a creative manner ,so try writing that poem or making that work of Art cause your creativity will be on a grand level at that time. However this month does have a mysterious ending, on the 25th and maybe the 28th you will face certain surprises. This could be finding you meeting with a person or being a situation which may be a good or bad experience, but the outcome will solely rely on what you may assume or how you wish to act accordingly, so do be careful February 2019 for Pisces will be a time for starting afresh especially on the 1st and 2nd day of the month. You will be ready for romantic relationships and would want you’re partner or soul mate to come and express their feelings towards you. Pisces will feel quite positive about themselves at this period and will enjoy the activities which give them joy. 11th and 12th days of February 2019 will witness some extreme romance stepping into lives of Pisces.
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You need to feel positive and think big about life, because with this attitude life, in turn, will become to be even more pleasant and beautiful, as will be experienced on the 5th and 6th of February 2019 marking a positive beginning for the month. There will also be some major surprises and changes heading your way on the 9th and 10th days. It will be quite the overwhelming experience so do keep your hopes high for February 2019. These events will have a great impact on you as you will have some incredible insights which you may go out express in a manner on the 13th, 14th and 15th of the month. A passionately romantic connection will be experienced by Aquarius on the 18th, 19thand 20th of the month. It will be an incredible one as never will you feel so alive being in such a relationship during that time. On the 25th, 26th and 27th of the month, you need to be really careful with your expressions as you will be interacting with some strict, even edgy people so do be careful. Whether it is your friends, your new romantic partner or even soul mate of many years, you will be in deep thought as to whether or not your new confessions or even feelings will be taken by them in a positive or negative light. These decisions will play an important role. This may lead to losing some toxicity in relations and even gaining new positive relationships. Work life will be spent wondering about professional and career choices. You may have a lot of questions regarding career. It would be better to spend time with your colleges discussing on such matters, spending time connecting with people may give you some ideas, which may lead you to interesting life-altering opportunities.
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TULAROSA The Waterboss A Historical Fiction Novel By Julie Lloyd
BETTY JO CHOPS COTTON THE WATERBOSS CHAPTER 9
W
hen Abel broke the news of Angela's pregnancy, Betty Jo swung her hoe without breaking her rhythm, but as the hoe hit the earth, it seemed her heart thudded as heavily. Her voice was soft, but she didn't look up when she spoke. "Oh? When did she tell you all this?" "On graduation night," Abel answered. When Betty Jo remained silent, he continued, "She didn't want to say anything about it to anyone before graduation. Not even to me. She was afraid she would be expelled from school and not get to graduate. You know how the rules work about that." "Did she say how far along she is?" "About three months," Abel responded. Betty Jo stopped working and looked straight at him. She leaned against her hoe before speaking. "She's lucky to have been able to keep it secret so long. Otherwise, you're right. She would have been
PAGE 31 expelled just like lots of other girls before her have been. At least, the timing and her not getting morning sickness made it possible for her to get her high school diploma." Betty Jo poised her hoe, chopped down through the dirt to sever a weed stem, then asked, "Did she say who she thinks the daddy is?" "Me, of course," Able said, surprise in his voice. "Who did you think it would be?" "I dunno," Betty Jo said, her voice flat and unemotional. "Guess it could have been most anybody." "That's not a very nice thing to say," Abel retorted hotly. "Mabe not." Betty Jo didn't look up from her work, but kept chopping away. "The truth isn't always nice," she said, "but it's always the truth." "You just don't like her. You never have and I don't know why," Abel spouted. "She's a nice girl." "Well, evidently you think so." "I thought you would be more surprised," Abel said, his voice harsh. "And a little more polite," he added with sarcasm. "I still don't know why you don't like her."
"I don't see her that way," Abel said sharply. "I think you're being unfair." "Of course, you don't. You're the father of her child." Her words held an edge of sarcasm. "You should see her in a different light." With her last remark, Betty Jo increased her work efforts and slowly put distance between her and Abel. It didn't surprise her that he did not return to the field after lunch. She assumed his Dad had repaired the tractor and he went to another field to cultivate. She felt relief that he was not there. It gave her time alone to think. She and Abel had grown up together as friends and neighbors. She had even dated him a couple of times a year ago, but they just didn't get along at a girlfriend/boyfriend level. He was much too aggressive for her taste. When he snapped the back of her bra on the second date, she let him know in no uncertain terms that she didn't appreciate his actions. They dropped back into being just friends and never did the date routine again.
Now his fooling around landed him in a Betty Jo stopped working lifelong dilemma and Betty Jo was glad she wasn't part and leaned against her hoe, letting it help rest her body. of the problem. She wondered how he would manage the situation. She wondered if he and Angela would get "Well, if it makes any difference, I'll just tell you." married. She wondered how he would support a her voice was even, controlled, and deliberate. "Your Angela... your Little Miss Goody Two Shoes... may be family. He had never even had a job except working for his Dad. a preacher's daughter who thinks she is above everyone else is just another spoiled trouble maker She tried in vain to shake him and Angela from her with a loud mouth, coarse language, and evidently thoughts. She tried to concentrate on the weeds and promiscuous. That's part of the reason, for starters." cotton plants in the row, but no matter how hard she She repositioned her hoe and began working again with nothing more to say.
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tried, she was disturbed to find Abel and Angela stealthily creeping uninvited back into her mind occupying her thoughts.
CHICKENS AND PEACHES THE WATERBOSS Chapter 10 When Betty Jo wasn’t working in the field, there were always things to do at the house to help her mother, Eileen. It didn’t take long for the baby chicks to grow into fryers and young pullets. They were free range chickens, running loose all around the area until it was time to begin selling off the thirty-nine frying size roosters. Then the pullets were separated and put into a fenced yard. Word quickly spread when there were fryers to be bought. Soon people began driving to the farm in search of chickens. They would pick out a chicken, or two, or more of their choice. Betty Jo became quite adept at taking a long, stiff wire with a hook fashioned at the end, hooking it around the leg of the fryer, and pulling the chosen bird to her while it squawked, flapped its wings, and desperately tried to escape. Then she expertly fitted the unfortunate fowl into a bag for the customer to take home. It was up to them to wring it’s neck, pluck and gut it, before cutting it up for the frying pan. Eileen took the money from the sale, carefully tucking it into the emptied 3-pound coffee can that held an assortment of coins and dollar bills intended for supplies, leaving any extra to go toward her dream of inside plumbing. When the pullets began laying eggs that were large enough to sell, the sale proceeds from them would go
right into the coffee can, too. Not all time was taken up with chickens. There was gardening and canning to do. Betty Jo didn’t mind helping with either chore. By staying busy, it kept her mind occupied. In no time at all, she found Abel and Angela disappearing from her thoughts right along with memories of school, classmates, and various related activities. At the moment, she found herself engrossed in peeling three bushel baskets full of golden ripe peaches that she had helped her mother pick at a friend’s orchard just the day before. Eileen had traded some feed sacks and her dressmaking skills for them. Betty Jo always enjoyed going into the orchard. The peach laden trees just seemed to invite her to help unload the branches of aromatic, sweet, juicy fruit. With a slight tug at the golden ripe peaches, they fell right into her hands. Gently, she placed them into a waiting basket, careful not to bruise them. She always wore long sleeves to keep the peach fuzz from making her itch and to avoid scratches from limbs. That didn't happen often, but when a hard shelled, bright turquoise-green June Bug was disturbed and instantly buzzed away from a juicy peach it was gorging on, she instinctively jumped back. That's when a tree branch would snag her. Now, sitting with a pan full of peaches swimming in fresh clear water upon her lap, she peeled away the skins. She liked the riper ones where the skin just pulled from the fruit with little or no effort, leaving the peach slick and juicy in her hand. It was easy to remove the hard, wrinkled peach seed by splitting the peach in half. She marveled at all the wrinkles in the seeds, thinking how much they resembled pictures she had seen of the creases in the human brain. With a flick of her sharp paring knife, she flipped the freestone seed into the pan, quickly slicing the peach into pieces over a gallon
stoneware crock before reaching for another piece of fruit. By the time the crock was filled with tasty slices, the water in the pan Betty Jo held was thick with peach peelings, pits, and juice. Rivulets of juice and water left sticky streaks on her arms from wrist to elbow. She set her pan on a nearby table, placing her paring knife beside it, and stood up to stretch her stiff, tired back. With a slight sigh, she picked up the pan to dump it outside. At the door, she kicked the screen open, carried the pan about 20 steps outside into the large unfenced yard, and flung the contents, scattering peach peelings, seeds, and juicy water upon the bare, dry earth. Chickens, already familiar with the procedure, hurried from unseen places to feast on the peelings, fighting over the pieces, until only the seeds remained on the ground that had sucked away the water moisture until only a damp spot of earth was left. Betty Jo returned to the kitchen to refill her pan with clean, clear water and a fresh batch of peaches. She would repeat her work until all the fruit was peeled, cooked, canned, or made into big, tasty cobblers. That might take a few days, but she didn't mind. The end results were worth all the work.
THE DAY OF THE FLOOD (Frank Welton) THE WATERBOSS Chapter 11 Thunderheads boiled over the lavender-hued eastern mountains in the late afternoon. Frank watched them surge up into the bright summer sky, billowing out like great puffs of smoke. Lightning flickered briefly, followed by low rumbling thunder. Gradually the clouds merged, thickened, darkened, until they became a blue-black screen descending over the now purpled mountains. Lightning crackled brilliantly in single lines of fire, and then forked out across the foreboding sky in tiny tongues as if following separate lines of gunpowder.
Frank sat outside on the edge of an old army cot watching the fireworks in the sky, listening to the thunder that had awakened him from his mid-day nap. Then he pulled on his shoes and arose to go to the pickup. He would have just enough time to get to the diversion dam before the flash flood hit. The sun beat down upon him as he walked, limping across the hot earth of the cotton field. His feet sank into the loose dirt of the freshly cultivated field and the warm soil spilled over into the side of his worn shoes. Wilted cotton leaves brushed against him and he smelled their sweet, sticky aroma. He paused a moment when he reached the bridge that spanned the deep canyon. A gentle breeze came up and the bridge swayed slightly.
Frank laid a callused hand on the wire railing and stepped out onto the bleached wooden planks. He could The air exploded in a deafening roar of thunder, smell rain in the air now, the scent wafting down from trailed off to a small rumble, fading into the distance as the mountains. He stopped in the middle of the bridge though searching for some other place to vent its anger. where the curve of the cables began the ascent to both Frank knew by the sight of these clouds that the dry banks. He looked up the arroyo to the bend where a tiny spell was broken. Rain poured drenching water over the trickle of water gurgled delightedly. It sparkled in the pine forests of the higher elevations, though the sun bright sun. After years of watching it happen time and shone hot and bright here in the valley. time again, Frank still thought it amazing that in less than an hour the placid scene with the sparkling stream
trickling through the rock strewn canyon bed enclosed by the high, red-seamed clay walls would become, instantly, a river of raging, muddy water. Frank limped on across the swinging bridge, feeling the bounce of the cables beneath his feet, balancing himself much like a sailor must balance in a boat. He arrived at the diversion dam before the raging torrent of muddy flash flood waters came down. With an arcing turn of his arm, he swung the large, rusted wheel to close the gate that diverted the water into the community waterworks. Satisfied the gate was closed, he turned his attention to the lower diversion dam about five hundred feet on down the canyon where floodwater would be diverted to another ditch. He began a conversation with himself in his mind. The gate down there needs to be open before the flood hits. If I don’t get it open, flood water will fill the ditch and all that dirty water will end up getting into the water tanks that feed the village people. They wouldn’t like that at all. He debated for an instant whether to walk or drive down. If I walk, the flood will be here before I can get back. He climbed into the pickup and drove along the narrow trail that he called a road, the wheels puffing
dust as they rolled through the loose, dry adobe dirt. This dam, through years of use, had slowly deteriorated as raging floods rushed through the canyon. Rolling boulders washed down at the bottom of the waters had cracked the concrete, broken it until it pulled loose. A large slab was missing from the center and on either side, other slabs were tugged loose, pushed aside, still hanging by the raw sinews of rusting steel cable, refusing to be washed away because the force of the water did not hit them. Steep concrete walls climbed the red clay canyon cliffs and remained intact. Once he had opened the lower diversion dam gate, Frank looked at the empty, bone-dry inlet made in stair step form. The rushing waters would hit with great force. Gravel and stones would be rolled at the bottom of the deluge while the muddy, silted waters boiled on top. From the bottom step of the ditch raised a sheet of concrete. The gravel and stones would hit this sheet and be forced into and through a large culvert at the right, that lead back to the canyon at the bottom of the dam and send the stony water back into the raging torrent, from which it had just left. The muddy water would flow down the dirt ditch into the reservoir and stand until the silt had settled, building yet another layer upon the mud now there.
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Suddenly, Frank heard the low threatening rumble. He scrambled to the top of the bank to look up the empty canyon. He heard the debris scraping the dry bottom before the churning water. This was going to be a big flood. His heartbeats quickened. A thickness grew in his throat as he hurried back to the pickup and drove again to the upper diversion dam.
THE DAY OF THE FLOOD (Frank Welton) THE WATERBOSS Chapter 12 "Oh, God!" he heard himself say aloud, climbing from his vehicle as quickly as his legs would let him. As many floods as he had watched rush down this canyon, he still felt the humbling thrill within himself as he waited to see again the fierce, forceful power of flood water. Then he saw it turn the curve of the canyon in an angry sweep, thrusting a barrage of debris before it. Frank watched the debris moving, crashing, bumping, and twisting before the surging watery-mud. It scraped and groaned. The emotion caught in Frank's chest and he wanted to scream with excitement. Then the flood was by him and he saw the huge trunk of a mighty cottonwood twisting, turning, and caught up by the impelling force behind. The wall of water filled the canyon floor and climbed half way up the banks. Frank's ears tingled with the roar of it.
The head of the flood passed in seconds. It left Frank breathless from its momentous arrival. Now muddy water followed the head in an obedient roar. Floating logs, rubber tires, old mattresses, bottles and cans, and other items that had been dumped into the He turned, pivoting on one foot as the water rushed dry arroyo bed by people discarding their rubbish by and saw the tree trunk tumble down over the dam. washed by in the muddy chocolate-colored liquid. The The frenzied waters rushed over it, drenching it with boulders rumbled by at the bottom of the water, heard foaming, brackish water, leaving it to writhe in the but unseen. Frothy foam floated atop the brown water, raging stream, for it could not stop. The tree trunk lapping gently at the banks while the main force of the washed helplessly in the turbid flow until, caught again tide rushed on. The tendrils of a salt cedar growing on by the furious force, it rolled out into the stream and the canyon bank bounced on the waves of the water, was gone, bobbing down the canyon. pulled downward at the urging flow, pulled back at the call of the mother plant. Now Frank could think again. His head was full of the roar of water and he heard grinding boulders Frank walked back to the edge of the lower dam bumping along on the bottom of the canyon floor. and watched the water cascade over. It hit against the Debris still floated downstream. He saw the frame of edge of a loosened slab of concrete and sprayed high an old automobile that had been dumped into the into the air. The sinking sun caught the chocolate arroyo bed. The frenzied waters carried it along like a crystals in its beam for the slightest moment and feather in a breeze. The metal clanged as the frame burnished them like black diamonds before they fell dumped over the dam. Then, it too, bounced on its way back into the dark stream. downstream.
He watched an old rubber tire bobbing in the stream. It passed him, floating gracefullynear the surface, briefly diving beneath the surface like a duck searching for food. Frank paid no further heed to it until a strange sound came to his ears. The harsh grating of gravel whipping through the galvanized culvert halted. He ran to the inlet and saw that the tire had entered the gate and stuck at the opening of the culvert, forcing the graveled water through the ditch. If the tire stayed there, the ditch would soon fill with gravel and the waters spread out over the flatland. Frank grabbed his shovel and pushed it down into the muddy water. He could just feel the edge of the
tire with the spade. Try as he might, he could not hook the shovel beneath the tire rim. The water built higher and higher. In desperation, he peeled off his clothes. There in the dusk of the evening, amid the roar of the now falling waters, he stood naked. The gentle evening breeze wafted around him. Quickly he let himself into the muddy water of the ditch. He felt the gravel push by his feet as the cold water went around him hiding his nakedness. Story Continues Next Edition
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If I had smiles to give away, I’d save them for a rainy day On a day that’s gray and blue, And a smile is what you need to get you through I’d give you smiles on a rainy day. If I had warmth to give away, I’d save it for a winter day. On a day that’s cold and winter white, I’d make it last long past the night, And I’d give you warmth on a winter day.
If I had love to give away, I’d save it for a perfect day. On a day that’s bright and sunny blue, Love is what I’d share with you, And I’d give you love on a perfect day. If I had it all to give away, I’d pass out some on every day. Here are some words I’d like to say: Love wasn’t put in our hearts to stay. Love isn’t love ‘till you give it away. Original poem by Gloria Marie
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Frank s Marriage Proposal A short story by Julie Lloyd The quirt slashed through the dust-laden air, snapping angrily only inches from Pattie Koger’s body. She stood stiff, unyielding, defiant, and her green eyes blazed hard and unwavering at her father. Only she could feel the frantic pounding of her heart as it beat fearfully beneath her softly rounded breast. “Damn you, girl,” the old man growled, his lips drawn thin and white over clenched teeth. “I’ll teach you to disobey me. No girl of mine writes mush to a strange cowhand. I told you a thousand times it’s not right for good girls to throw their self at men. God don’t like loose women!” Pattie’s auburn hair blew wildly in the spring wind. She pulled it roughly from her face as she stared, unspeaking, at the old man, watching his moves warily. She saw his grip tighten on the rawhide whip as he pulled his arm back to swing again, and she spoke suddenly. “I did not write mush to Frank!” Her voice was cold and sharp. “I did not write to him at all. He wrote to me.” Her tone went icy. “And you had no right at all to open my letter from him.” “As your Pa, I have every right to everything that concerns your life. And I have the right to see that you remember you still live under my roof and you still follow my orders.”
when a man’s voice grated out. “Old gentleman, if you lay so much as one stripe on that girl,” his voice lowered to just above a whisper, and he hissed, “so help me God…I’ll kill you.” The old man looked up, staring at the pistol leveled at him, hand frozen in motion while the quirt swayed slowly back and forth. “Now, Pattie,” the mounted cowboy said, his voice softening measurably, “you can make a choice. You can stay here with this old buzzard and take your chance of a horse whipping.” He paused a moment, “Or you can come into town with me and look for a preacher.” She turned stiffly, and then her gaze softened. Only for a moment did she hesitate, her mouth parting slightly in surprise. Then she clenched her teeth, tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder, and walked deliberately toward the man on the horse. Still holding the gun, the cowboy moved his foot from the stirrup, steeling his body as she grasped the saddle, placed a booted foot into the stirrup and swung her lithe body expertly behind the saddle, onto the back of the horse. Without another word, Frank sheathed his gun, found the stirrup with his foot, reined the horse around and goaded him into a trot. Neither of the riders looked back at the old man standing with the quirt hanging limp in his hand.
His arm pulled further back, knuckles white, fingers locked around the short whip handle,
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We Invite You to Get a High Shopping Stress-Free at 9,000 feet
Welcome to Cloudcroft, New Mexico! We are proud of our 110 year old, unique mountain community which combines the amenities of modern life with our heritage as a pioneer village. Cloudcroft, NM is the travel destination of thousands of visitors each year. In the summer, it is a wonderful place to get away from the heat and enjoy the delightful pleasures of the mountains. In the winter, you can explore the vast wonderland of cross-country skiing, snow mobiling, and ice skating. At any time of the year, Cloudcroft is truly “The Most Enchanting Part of the Land of Enchantment!�
General Store | Farm Implement Store Real Estate & Insurance Office Note the old gas pump in front of The General Store
The Cloud Climbing Railroad As the El Paso and Northeastern Railroad sought passage northward through Alamogordo in the 1890s, a steady of supply of timber was necessary to continue construction on its railroad line. The owners, upon seeing the Sacramento Mountains with its lush forests to their east (the Lincoln National Forest today), decided to build a branch line into the trees/mountains to tap the natural resources there. The EP&NE survey team found at the summit not only excellent trees for timber, but a potential attraction for tourists with the area's majestic views and abundant natural wildlife. Thus, the town of Cloudcroft ("clearing in the clouds") was born, and the EP&NE quickly built a 26-mile branch line towards the summit.
way, not to mention its destination "in the clouds". In addition, at the time of its completion, it was the highest standard-gauge track in the world. The line offered both freight and passenger excursion service, often transporting movie stars and other famous guests 6,000 feet upwards into the grand mountains. 58 wooden bridges were constructed, including one "S" bridge (formed by two reverse curves) at a length of 338 feet. With the arrival of US Route 82 to Cloudcroft around 1945, traffic on the railroad line diminished. Southern Pacific discontinued passenger service in 1938, and freight service in 1947; abandonment of the line came soon after in 1948. The town of Cloudcroft itself continues to thrive today as an attractive tourist destination.
The railroad was called the AlamagordoSacramento Mountain Railway, a subsidiary of The only evidence of the railroad line today is the EP≠ its nickname, "The Cloudthe remains of the trestle over Mexican Climbing Railroad", became well-known as the railroad offered spectacular vistas along the Canyon
Cloudcroft’s Haunting Experience The source of haunting at The Lodge is attributed to two principal ghosts: Rebecca, a young woman who worked at the inn during the 1920s. She lived at the inn, where some claimed she moonlighted as a call girl. The other ghost is a lumberjack who was her lover, who murdered her when he caught her in bed with another man. Employees and guests alike have experienced these ghosts and other supernatural manifestations. They describe Rebecca as a redhaired girl with brilliant blue eyes. She appears in a gown right out of the 1920s or 1930s.
Rebecca is called a flirtatious, mischievous spirit, who likes to use the telephone in Room 101, the Governor's Suite. Guests in that room sometimes receive phone calls from nowhere, and operators at the resort say that the line to Room 101 is often lit up, even when no one is in the suite. Rebecca's presence is also felt in the Red Dog Saloon, where ashtrays move by themselves and flames appear in the fireplace with no logs or other source of fuel. There are not that many reports about the lumberjack, although some have claimed to have heard male voices in the middle of the night.
Some guests have felt Rebecca’s icecold touch, whereas others Others have seen ghostly have seen her male hands vaporous figure wandering the opening doors or handling halls or even objects. sleeping on their beds. Rebecca As for The also likes to move Lodge’s objects. Indeed, catchphrase, it one witness could be read claimed to have seen his watch float straight into the air and come down gently on top of a as a play on Rebecca: “It’s Charmed.” dresser.
A New Voice in New Mexico mystery fiction By Ed Woten Carol Potenza, budding writer and professor of chemistry and biochemistry at NMSU/Las Cruces, has burst onto the New Mexico mystery scene with a new thriller, “Hearts of the Missing,” which is very much in the vein of the late great Tony Hillerman. Her debut novel was, in fact, the winner of the 2018 Tony Hillerman Award in December, a well-deserved win for the premier entry of a new series sure to attract legions of loyal fans of C. J. Box, Craig Johnson and Michael McGarrity. Sgt. Nicky Matthews is a police officer on the Tsiba’ashi D’yini reservation where Fire-Sky Pueblo is located. The pueblo, situated between Albuquerque and Santa Fe, becomes the setting for an increasingly bizarre series of missing persons cases and suicides which could be interconnected and may not be suicides after all. Despite the fact that she is not Native American,
Nicky has established a rapport with many tribal members, especially her best friend Savannah, and their mutual friend Ryan, so when relatives of the missing come to her for help, Nicky begins to suspect that a deeper, more complex evil may be at work on the rez. The author does not shy away from the heavy issues confronting modern reservation populations such as drug and alcohol abuse, the preservation or loss of cul-
tural traditions and complicated family dynamics. In this novel, suicide-by-train has sadly become a standard event. When it is discovered that one mangled corpse is found missing its heart, the investigation shifts into high gear. Complicating her investigation is the interference from an antagonistic fellow officer, her supervising lieutenant and an openly hostile police captain. She also runs afoul of the powerful magnate who is the head of the local casino. Help arrives in the form of an intriguing new colleague, Frank Martin, who has been assigned to the tribal Conservation force and also may or may not be all he appears to be. Nicky is a good, strong, well-nuanced lead, and the entire cast of supporting characters is adroitly developed and believable. The author makes good use of the wonderful landscapes of central New Mexico and the rich heritage and traditions of the Pueblo Indians. Those same cultural beliefs become an integral part of the plot development and serve as key turning points in the story. Carol Potenza has a good ear for dialog and writes stirring action sequences that slowly ramp up the tension to a chilling climax. She has presented a very engaging protagonist in Nicky Matthews and as a writer, bears easy comparisons to Anne Hillerman, Nevada Barr, Sandi Ault and Naomi Stokes. Carol decided to write as something to do to counteract the empty nest syndrome. She is well into the next Nicky Matthews adventure which she says will always include (1) science twisted into ‘fiction,’ (2) some paranormal because a number of her relatives are ‘sensitive’ (she is not) and have great ghost stories that she weaves into the fabric of her books, and--of course-(3) murder. A blossoming fan base is already clamouring for the next Nicky Matthews thriller. Watch for an upcoming author presentation and book signing at Imaginary Books in Cloudcroft.
Solar System Scale Model While driving through the town of Cloudcroft, and along NM Route 6563, you may have noticed blue highways signs bearing the names of the planets. Those are our scale model of the solar system. The concept is similar to a map - the distance from downtown Cloudcroft to the Visitors Center in Sunspot is scaled to correspond to the distance between the Sun and the dwarf planet Pluto. The other planets are placed along that route to scale with their distance from the Sun. Look for them all as you make your way to Sunspot! It may surprise you just how close the Earth is to the Sun on this scale! Given that it takes approximately 8 minutes, 20 seconds for light from the Sun to travel to Earth, the speed of light on this scale is only 3.24 mph, or about 4.75 feet per second. Driving at 35 mph on NM Route 6563, to scale, you are moving approximately ten times faster than the speed of light - Space is Big!
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A Jacksonville mother and son decided to buy a property from someone who they thought was a friend without obtaining proper Owner’s Title Insurance. The three made a verbal agreement in which the mother and son would pay the friend a down payment and then monthly payments for the remainder of the purchase price.
currently incarcerated. The moral of the story is that there is no substitute or excuse for not performing a proper title search and obtaining Owner’s Title Insurance on any real estate purchase that you make.
This agreement was illegal because the Florida Statute of Frauds requires that real estate transactions have to be in writing to be enforceable. After making payments on the property for a while, the mother and son learned the harsh truth: There were judgments against the property, the taxes on the property were delinquent, their “friend” not the owner of the property, and he was Issuu.com/alamodosomagazine
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SAVE THE DAY VISIT LINCOLN
Lincoln is a town made famous by one of the most violent periods in New Mexico history. Today's visitors can see the Old Lincoln County Courthouse with museum exhibits that recount the details of the Lincoln County War and the historic use of the "House" as store, residence, Masonic Lodge, courthouse, and jail. Walk in the footsteps of Billy the Kid, Pat Garrett, and other famous and infamous characters of the Wild West. Trace the events of 1878 through the Courthouse and the Tunstall Store, with their preserved 19th-century atmosphere. Walk through history by visiting El TorreĂłn (a defensive tower built by native New Mexican settlers in the 1850s), the San Juan Mission Church, the Convento, Dr. Woods' House, the MontaĂąo store and other historic structures throughout the town. The Anderson-Freeman Visitor's Center & Museum features historical exhibits in a timeline starting with American Indian prehistory and ending with the Lincoln County War. A 22 minute video about the Lincoln County War and the community is shown every half hour.