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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 is a comprehensive bibliography listing over 2,500 business histories written in the UK this century. It includes books of more than 50 pages in length which have been written before December 1992 and which have been either formally published or privately printed. For ease of reference, the histories have been catalogued in subject headings with individual companies, firms and organisations listed in the index.
They went to sleep the night before Christmas-or rather they went to bed, for sleep was long far from their bright eyes-with delightful expectations and thrills along their backs, and with little squeakings and gurglings, like so many little white mice, and if Santa Claus had not always been so very prompt in disappearing up the chimney before daybreak he must certainly have been caught. For by the time the chickens were crowing in the morning there would be an answering twitter through the house, and with a patter of little feet and subdued laughter small, white-clad figures would steal through the dim light of dusky rooms and cold passages, opening doors with sudden bursts, and shouting "Christmas gift!" into darkened chambers, at still sleeping elders. Then they would scurry away in the gray light to rake open the hickory embers and revel in the exploration of their bulging, overcrowded stockings. Not Columbus was to be envied when those discoveries were being made. What was a new world to those treasures! The thrill of the new jack-knife remains after forty years-it had four blades, each worth a province. Envy Columbus? Perish the thought!
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