Word: sonora
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...escaped from Folsom Prison during his term, and committed new crimes before being caught, and even though his own mother, afraid of her son, pleaded against his release-Pedrini was paroled. Last month, after pistol-whipping and robbing another gas-station operator, Pedrini began running wild in neighboring Sonora County...
Young Woodin (grandson of William H. Woodin, Franklin D. Roosevelt's first Secretary of the Treasury) is assistant director of the Arizona-Sonora Desert Trailside Museum. His purpose: to explore the intimate lives of all Southwestern reptiles, a subject not well known. Since reptiles are "coldblooded" (i.e., have no built-in thermostats as mammals do), they must adjust their activities to the temperature around them. In cold weather they are sluggish, and if they stay out too long in Arizona's searing sun, they die of heat prostration. So Woodin believes that an important step toward understanding...
...Maria herself, as it turned out, who had cursed Josefina-sneaked into Chavez' house, shrieked at Josefina: "You will never see again!" and fled. Next morning Joe's wife was blind again. Fruitlessly, Joe took her to witches in Tucson, in Nogales, in Pitiquito, in Sonora and Cavorca, Mexico. Finally Joe went humbly to Maria herself; in her flyblown parlor, with its green altar and its saints' pictures (some laid face down with coins placed against their lips to protect Maria's clients from gossip), Joe begged for a cure...
...Because The Wonderful Country is an honest book written with obvious care and even reserved passion, it is easy to respect it and wait with interest for No. 3. Lea's wonderful country is, of course, the Southwest, in particular "where Texas and New Mexico meet Chihuahua and Sonora." The time is a few years after the Civil War, and the hero is a young gun-toter named Martin Brady, who has expatriated himself to Mexico for a good reason: at 14 he killed a man back in Texas. Brady is more Mexican than gringo now, a hard, quiet...
Nuggets & Dust. Finally Black Bart slipped up. Hurrying away from a stage robbery near Sonora in 1883, he dropped a handkerchief bearing the mark of a San Francisco laundry. That was all his pursuers needed to track him down. He turned out to be a 55-year-old man who lived in quiet "retirement" and often ate his lunch at a Kearney Street bakery. His name: Charley Bolton...