Listen to Coronavirus Patient Zero
The young outlaw known as Billy the Kid spent the winter of 1880-1881 in Santa Fe-trying desperately to get out of its jail. He hired lawyers. He wrote the governor. He even tried digging his way out! Nothing worked. Billy only "escaped" the "safest jail in the Territory" in March 1881, when deputies finally escorted him to the railroad station for a trip to southern New Mexico-where a jury of his peers waited to convict him of murder. But just where was this invincible Santa Fe jail? Today, in Santa Fe, two plaques mark the spot, or rather, two competing spots . . . Lynn Michelsohn tracks down historical sources to identify the long-disputed location of Billy the Kid's Santa Fe jail and to provide this brief glimpse of life in the Wild West on the Southwestern Frontier. (10,000 words; 16 photographs, drawings, and maps) Recommended for Western history buffs, Billy the Kid aficionados, and anyone who loves Santa Fe.
Santa In A Stetson â€” Rebecca Winters
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1822 edition. Excerpt: ... The governour spoke again--in a whisper at first, and then louder--a slight motion was heard near him--and ht raised his voice. In vain, and the mysterious and death like silence, he found more insupportable than all that he had yet endured. Where was his foe at that instant?--how employed?--ready perhaps, to strike the bayonet through and through his heart, at the very next breath! He could not endure it--no mortal could--he uttered a loud cry, and fell upon his face in convulsions. CHAPTERIH. "What art thou? Speak!" The sentinel at the door heard the cry, and though a strong muscular man, capable of resisting, .singly, a legion of devils, in the narrow landing where he was placed, yet was he so possessed with the notion that whatever was unaccountable, was some Indian plot, some Indian stratagem, which no wisdom or foresight could baffle or resist, (and this terror he had in common with all the whites at the time, ) that he had neither the strength, nor the presence of mind to give the alarm by firing off his musquet; but echoing, with a preternatural loudness, like a wounded man, the cry of the governour, he staggered forward, cleared the platform at one bound; jumped at once from the very top, to the very bottom of the council stairs, and ran towards the nearest block house, yelling all the way, in a voice rendered doubly thrilling and piercing from terror, ' murder!--murder!--To arms!--Indians!--Indians! to arms!' All the town was in an uproar. The drums beat-- straggling shots were fired, and lights were seen streaming quickly past the windows of every house, far and near, as the terrified, half naked women, with their babes in their arms, were hurrying to and fro, and shrieking in consternation. The governour had been constantly...
This is a sweet little Christmas story, all about a little girl who writes a letter to santa. The story has been written in easy to read poetry to entertain children aged five and over.
Santas Warehouse Articles
Santas Warehouse Books