From the Author
The bitter chill of January along the Little Colorado, the chocolate-colored rush of water near a toasty fire inspired my visions of mid-1800s fur trappers huddled in lean-tos, dining on bacon and biscuits. Memories of cooking on that river linger when Im exposed to the ambiance of an eatery designed to recreate the Old West as in the Museum Club in Flagstaff, where I sipped a pop while Uncle Ray and the folks swigged on bottles of beer. I remember my father telling me about the skull atop a rock pile that marked the most dangerous spot on Arizona Route 66 at Two Guns. I used to stroll along in Holbrook with my Mamasita within a stones throw of two of the fiercest gun battle sites of the West the bloodbath at the Bucket of Blood Saloon, and the Blevins House gunfight, where one particularly violent episode of the Sheep-Cattle owners feud took place. I explored The Cave of Death down in Diablo Canyon at Two Guns, a sad place considered to be haunted by ghosts of dead Apaches killed there by the Navajos.