“God, look after my boys in Cimarron, New Mexico. That’s where they are today and I got this awful feeling something terrible is going to happen there if you don’t be watching out for them.”
Ida closed her eyes and pictured the town, bleak and dusty, just like she’d seen it in a real picture once with the historic St. James Hotel that advertised 26 men had been killed within its walls and claimed a few ghosts to capture the bit of tourism that came through.