St. Catherine of Sienna church in Hachita. Photo by Phyllis Eileen Banks.

A schoolhouse built in Hatchita, New Mexico, with WPA (Works Progress Administration) funds in the 1930s was overlooked in the Treasures of New Mexico Trails by Kathryn A. Flynn, a book on New Deal Art and Architecture. No doubt the reason is that it had been renovated and made into a church, obscuring the fact that it had been a school many years ago.

My husband and I were driving NM Highway 9 from El Paso to Rodeo early in March. When we came to Hachita, 45 miles west of Columbus, Hal, who is an incorrigible "wonder where that road goes," drove through the small village. In so doing, we discovered a most unique church, Saint Catherine of Sienna. It was locked, so we drove on and stopped at The Egg Nest for lunch. When we talked to the proprietor we asked about the church. He said, "If you want to see it, I have the key," then pointed out the copy of its history. Totally intrigued now, we borrowed the key and drove the few blocks back to the church.

Its history is a testament to one man’s promise to his mother on her death bed that he would build a church dedicated to her memory and her Saint, Catherine of Sienna. The history does not indicate whether or not he purchased the building and land, although that is the assumption since he was a successful business man. He considered the church to be his most important achievement.

Daniel Suozzi spent many years renovating the building with the help of many Hachita residents. He made many journeys to Buffalo, New York, his home town, in search of treasures for his church. Older churches and cathedrals were being demolished there, so he was always able to add many items to his collection.

He built a forty-five foot bell tower, then installed two 800 pound solid bronze bells that were cast in 1902. The beautiful stations of the cross were crafted in Germany in 1830, are made of hand cast plaster and hand painted, each weighing about 150 pounds. Wrought iron lamps hang from the ceiling, and the confessional and altars are of beautiful quality.

Bishop Ramirez dedicated the church in December 1982, and its first mass was celebrated.

After the first mass, a gathering was held at Mr. Suozzi’s ranch. There is no resident priest now, but community gatherings are held at the church periodically.

Daniel Suozzi will be well-remembered as a man who honored his church, his mother, and the community that adopted him. Saint Catherine of Sienna Church is a fulfillment of his promise.

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Desert outside Lordsburg. Photo by Carla DeMarco.

The rugged Old West town known as Lordsburg is located in Southwest New Mexico’s bootheel by Interstate 10, 24 miles east of the Arizona border. The Lordsburg of today is a quiet community compared to its earlier shoot-em-up days. Life was lively and sometimes perilous around 1880 when the Santa Fe Railroad was constructed and Lordsburg was founded.

Before Lordsburg had a name, railroad freight handlers needed a way to label merchandise destined for the town. Most of Lordsburg’s freight was shipped by Dr. Charles H. Lord of Tucson, who owned the distribution company that served New Mexico. Soon, the tag “Lords” caught on and, before long, the town was known as Lordsburg.

Motel Drive was once part of the famous Butterfield Trail. It is said if you listen carefully, you can at times hear the hoof beats of the horses and shouts of the stage master as the spirit of the stagecoach still rumbles through town.

The seat of Hidalgo County, Lordsburg prides itself on its low crime rate. Lordsburg’s population is 3,000 and Hidalgo County’s is 6,400. Base industries are cattle, cotton and copper, but with the recent national interest in southwestern food, a considerable portion of agricultural activity has expanded into the growing and processing of green chili.

Lordsburg is the hometown of two-time Olympian Todd L. Bensley. Bensley was a member of the 1984 and 1988 Olympic Team, competing on the U.S. Shooting Team and in Running Game Target. Bensley has been ranked fourth in the world, and he won a Silver Medal in the 1987 Pan American Games. Lordsburg has honored Bensley by naming a shooting range after him. Also living in Lordsburg is world champion bull rider Owen Washburn.

At 4,250 feet, Lordsburg boasts year-round sunshine and high desert and mountain scenery visible for more than 60 miles. Rockhounding, birding, hunting and hiking are favorite area pastimes. The Gila National Forest is just minutes away. Authentic late 1800’s buildings still stand at Shakespeare and Steins ghost towns. The Granite Gap Ghost Mining Camp tourist attraction brings back memories of rough-and-tumble mining days. The Lordsburg/Hidalgo County Museum will soon be opening. The Lordsburg Gem and Mineral Society provides year-round rockhounding activities. Many interesting stops lie along the Butterfield Trail loop tour.

The tiny town of Hachita, population 75, sits 47 miles south of I-10 on New Mexico 81. It is named after the Little Hatchet mountain range to its west. Founded in 1902 as a railroad town, when a line from El Paso to Douglas, Arizona, met a line to Lordsburg, Hachita is today a ranching community.

Just west of Hachita, at the foot of the Little Hatchet Mountains, is Old Hachita, a mining ghost town from the 1880’s. Rarely mentioned in ghost town books, significant ruins remain of the mining operations and the original old Hachita community.

A stop in (new) Hachita yields directions to Old Hachita; a gas station; groceries, gifts, a restaurant and liquid refreshment at the Hachita Liquor Saloon. The lovely old St. Catherine of Sienna church is worth a visit and very photogenic.

The railroad is gone, but not the ranchers. They stick to their way of life, but changes do occur. Behind the Little Hatchet Mountains to the west is the Phelps Dodge Playas smelter. Phelps Dodge is a major world producer of copper and provides most of the jobs in this part of New Mexico.

In the next range of mountains to the west, the Animas Mountains, is located one of the largest ranches in New Mexico, the Gray Ranch. A unique bio-system of arid grasses, it supports nearly 100 rare plants and animals. An operating ranch of 322,000 acres owned by the Animas Foundation, conservation easements have been retained by The Nature Conservancy to preserve this unique biological island.

Hachita combines the past of mining ghost towns and railroad boom towns with the present of ranching, copper production, and eco-system conservation – lots of activity for a place that looks like it’s in the middle of nowhere!

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Rodeo, New Mexico Photo by Carla DeMarco

Put on a cowboy hat, grab a miner’s pick, and get out your birder’s field glasses. You may have need of them when you explore the three neighboring villages on the border of Arizona and New Mexico’s boot heel – Road Forks, Rodeo, and Portal.

As you travel east or west on Interstate 10, turn off at the Road Forks exit in New Mexico. It marks the I-10 junction with transcontinental Highway 80 and then continues on to Rodeo. Take time to visit Road Forks, settled by the G.H. Porters around 1925 and further developed by the late John Graham whose family still own and operate several businesses there.

It’s cowboy country. Practice your John Wayne squint.

Right away you’ll realize that few people (about 30) reside in these open spaces with winds tumbling tumbleweeds. Road Forks was perhaps so-named because a two-lane road once went west from Lordsburg and split (“forked"). One branch veered south, meeting U.S. 80, and then later rejoined the westerly branch.

Stop at Road Forks for “food, gas, and lodging.” With many miles between gas stations, make sure you fill up the tank. Park at the Shady Grove truck stop and admire the barrel cacti at its entrance. Have a bite at the 24-hour restaurant, peek in at the gift shop, and walk out wearing a Southwestern necklace and tee shirt. Head south.

While driving the 33 miles to Rodeo, photograph the rust and ochre-colored rock formations that cut and jut into the velvet blue sky above. If you’re lucky, a hawk may soar by or a whip-tailed lizard may dart off a ledge, giving spark to the scene.

Try to squeak out an hour to stop at the Granite Gap Ghost Mining Camp, seen from the highway and only 11 miles from Road Forks. Collect ore specimens, admire the desert botanical garden, and even ride a burro.

Leave Shaggy and Willie at the camp. Straight ahead is Rodeo, once a center for shipping cattle, but now a growing arts community of several hundred persons. It is bound together by its Spanish, Mexican, and Old West history. Bootheel tales of rustling, smuggling, bootlegging and railroading abound.

Founded in 1902 when the Southwestern Railroad of New Mexico was completed, Rodeo, population 200 including surrounding area, is modernizing its water facilities, which will help its growth. The origin of its name is in dispute. One book indicates the Spanish word Rodeo means “roundup, enclosure,” but local historian Junior Gomez, interprets Rodeo as referring to a large bend in the area’s railroad.

When you enter town, which lays right next to the highway, admire the Rodeo Mission church with its gleaming white exterior. Photograph your family as they point to its sign, “Cowboy Ministry 7 p.m.” Look at your puppy and say, “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

Then enjoy the brilliantly colored paintings, gleaming silver bolos and bracelets, and unique crafts at the Chiricahua Art Gallery and Guild. Soon other galleries will open. Then enjoy green enchiladas and iced tea (or something stronger) at Bob and Lois Bernard’s inviting Rodeo Tavern.

As you loop back to I-10, make sure your camcorder is ready. Portal, Arizona – gateway to the great Chiricahuas Mountains – is only a whisper away. Portal’s population is about 75 in town and 125 including the surrounding area. Turn left about seven miles north of Rodeo and drive on the narrow, two-lane road to what one visitor called “a bonanza” of diverse plant and animal life. Record the startling extremes of teeming life that range from the rare Trojan parrot to the lowly coyote and from the thorny mesquite bushes to the mountain aspen forests.

First homesteaded by Stephan Reed in 1879, the district surrounding “the embryo town of Portal” was promoted as a promising mining camp and resort area, according to the Jan. 15, 1906, Arizona Republican. No mining is allowed in this area today, but it remains an incredible resort area and nature lover’s haven. Elevations climb from the desert floor to 10,000 feet. Scientists at The Southwest Research Station, internationally famous, study local flora and fauna.

The beloved homeland of Geronimo and his Apaches, the Chiricahuas are also home to bears, warblers, porcupines, wild turkeys, mountain lions, hummingbirds, and an untold number of beetles, ants, and other insects. Snakes, too.

When you need a respite, hightail it to the picturesque Portal Peak Lodge, Store and Café, owned and operated by the friendly Reeces and Griffiths. Munch on a huge hamburger or savor their pork chops. Take home some books by local authors. Stay awhile. But watch out. The Chiricahuas can mesmerize, and may not let you go.

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The Chihuahuan Desert. Photo by Carla DeMarco.

Cotton and cowboys, cacti and copper, cavalry and coyotes, chile and coatimundi – and the Chiricahua Apaches. All these help characterize the most southwestern part of Hidalgo County, called the Bootheel of New Mexico, where you will find the small communities of Playas, Animas, and Cotton City.

The area’s history is characterized also by the rustlers, thieves, and bandits . . . the Spaniards, Mexicans, and settlers . . . and also by the miners seeking gold, silver, and copper who explored this land to find fortune. Instead, all too often they encountered destitution and sudden death. And sometimes torture.

The Westward Ho! movement had brought the settlers here. Few stayed. The land was harsh; the Apaches, unforgiving. Those who remained were to become as tough as the Chihuahuan Desert and as stoic as the mountains that ring the area. The settlers became ranchers, bringing in cattle and barbed wire. They became farmers, tapping the underground waters, making the desert fertile.

It’s easy for you to visit this desert land of bull snakes and bull-riders. Whether you are traveling east or west on Interstate 10, turn off on Exit 11 and continue south on N. M. 338 for about half an hour to reach Cotton City first and then Animas. If you’re traveling from El Paso, drive west on N. M. 9, past Columbus and Hachita. You will cross the Continental Divide two times as you snake around mountains and hills before you reach the Playas turnoff, and one more time before you reach Animas.

The original Playas, a settlement along the Southern Pacific Railroad, has vanished. The current question is whether the current-day Playas will vanish or become a ghost town. This "new" Playas was developed by the Phelps Dodge Mining Company in 1975 to provide rental homes and amenities for the 400+ employees of their then newly-built Playas Copper Smelter. Unexpectedly the smelter closed in the fall, 1999. All Playas residents were to vacate the premises by June l, 2000. Now, as you drive westward towards Animas, you will note that the rosy glow from the smelter’s fires is no longer seen in the southern evening sky.

But about 15 miles away from the Playas turnoff on N.M. 9, you will see Animas, which means "lost souls" or "spirit." Local lore has it that Animas may be built upon an ancient Indian village. At least one source indicates that in 1753 the Spanish, in their quest for copper, gold, and silver, settled the site of present-day Animas.

Today, Animas is an unincorporated village of about 300 persons. There is no "town" in the traditional sense. There are no sidewalks nor shops. Animas consists primarily of the school district (with some of the longest bus rides in the state), a church, a post office, a telephone office, a mercantile, an auto service, and one cafe. Nearby is a convenience store with a bar, gas, and sundries. The nearest large grocery store is in Lordsburg some 30 miles from Animas.

What is not obvious to the traveler is that Animas is a community in the true meaning of the word. It is the home of widespread families who guard their privacy, but who are bound together in friendship. Animas is reminiscent of a younger America, where the whole village turns out to raise a child, to celebrate a wedding, or to mourn the loss of one of its own. Norman Rockwell should be alive to paint such occasions, often held at the Animas Community Center.

After stopping at the Panther Tracks café for a friendly chat with the locals, you may want to gaze about outside. On most days you will be able to see 30-50 miles in any direction. To the south lay the Animas Mountains and the Republic of Mexico; to the west, the Peloncillo Mountains and the State of Arizona; to the east, the Big and Little Hatchet Mountains; and northeastward, the Pyramid Mountains.

As you drive north from Animas to meet I-10, you will note Cotton City, renamed in 1949 from Valley View. It, too, is small, with its one grocery store and three churches. The most successful business at Cotton city is a large geothermal greenhouse where roses are grown and distributed regionally, if not nationally. A farming area, Cotton City’s buildings indicate the changes of favored crops. Two cotton gins, a bean factory, and a chile plant – each have opened and closed throughout the years.

As you continue on, be conscious of the history you are leaving. Your inner ear may hear the rumble of a cattle drive, the whistle of a locomotive, the scream of a far-off bobcat.

Or, you may feel the presence of the Clanton outlaw gang hiding in nearby caves and canyons. Perhaps you will catch a glimmer of Geronimo’s shadow as he gallops towards Mexico seeking revenge for the deaths of his wife, his mother, and his children.

You may see that "visiting" Mexican, sitting tall in the saddle – but on a steer – as he rustled cattle. Years ago, he evaded local ranchers for a long time because they were looking for the prints of a man on horseback.

You might even hear the sounds of fiddlers playing at a square dance in full swing.

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Steins, New Mexico. Photo by the Author

Sometimes the unseen hand of fate descends to arrange a unique opportunity. When visiting Steins (pronounced Steens) Railroad Ghost Town, just off I-10 in southern New Mexico near the Arizona state line, I had the chance to take a rare photograph.

We hadn’t been there ten minutes when a pair of Southern Pacific locomotives pulling a train of empty cargo containers stopped at Steins, held up by track repair ahead. I persuaded the engineer to ease the train up fifty feet so I could frame the photo the way I wanted it.

A talk with one of the engineers divulged some interesting information. The train was traveling from Tucson, Arizona to El Paso, Texas – a trip that sometimes takes as long as 18 hours. The entire train weighed in at 4000 tons, one of the lighter affairs, since they average around 10,000 tons. A train takes about 20 minutes to get up to full speed, and about a mile to brake to a halt. Bigger trains and high speed trains take even longer to brake. The larger of the locomotives was a 1994 model, and it stood purring and burping behind us while we talked.

After talking to the engineers, I took the photo of the train stopped at Steins crossing, then went into Steins Mercantile. Owner Larry Link unlimbered himself from his chair and gave me a tour of Stein’s Railroad Ghost Town. The tour costs $2.50 and is well worth it. Between Larry’s tour and interviewing the train engineer, the day was most educational!

The first stagecoaches passed by Steins Peak, 5 miles north of Steins, in 1857, connecting San Antonio, Texas with San Diego, California. In 1858 the earlier stageline was replaced by the Butterfield Overland Stage; the route is more easily identifiable as the old Butterfield Road. The town of Steins was born in 1880, when the Southern Pacific Railroad arrived. The name Steins comes from Capt. Enoch Steen, a U.S. Army officer who participated in the Apache Wars.

Steins Mercantile. Photo by Carla DeMarco

Larry pointed out rock and log structures straight out of the 1880s. Bedrooms with children’s clothing and toys, a communal kitchen, and living quarters for an entire family have been re-created. Outside the kitchen was a huge kettle set in a mortared rock wall. When in use, the fire was stoked underneath and the kettle used for laundry or cooking. "The first serving of stew would have tasted of lye soap or dirty socks," Larry said.

He showed me a campstove of the type used in covered wagons. A small iron box that held firewood, about two feet in length, had no legs: When traveling in a covered wagon it was set in a box of dirt. Larry’s research has brought to light the fact that when under attack, pioneer parents would stow their babies in these boxes. The iron protected the child from arrows and bullets.

The collection of artifacts at Steins includes everything from rare books to an unusual "boxing glove" cholla cactus and hundreds of old bottles. Boxes and boxes of stuff still fill unused rooms; Larry and Linda have their work cut out for them. Between his research and inventorying his collection, Larry has become a fountain of knowledge on nineteenth century living, southwestern history, Apache folklore, and railroad history.

Almost shouting distance from Steins is a rock bluff from which many tons of rock were blasted to make the roadbed for the railway. One thousand Chinese rail workers lived at the foot of the mountain at "Old Steins." Larry showed me the antique steam drills that were used in the quarry, explaining that they were called "widow-makers" for their propensity to maim or kill the user. Work in the quarry began in 1878 and continued until 1925. Larry says rock from the Steins quarry was shipped to far points for building projects in addition to being used in the railbed.

Steins grew to a population of 1,300 residents in the early 1900s. The boom years lasted until trains switched from steam to diesel. About 1945, Steins fell into disuse and began a slow dissolve back into the desert.

Larry and Linda Link plan to keep Steins authentic for tourists and serious researchers. Here Larry will guide you on a journey back in time, when Apaches still roamed the surrounding hills; when one small, low-ceilinged room sheltered parents and children alike; and when the railroad was king.

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Marker on Highway 80 south of Rodeo near Apache,just north of Skeleton Canyon Road

Located in New Mexico’s remote boot heel region, Skeleton Canyon begins in the Peloncillo Mountains on the western edge of the Animas Valley and heads northwest by west to a point where about seven rugged miles later, it meets its south fork in nearby Arizona. Tradition has it that the canyon, called Cañon Bonita by the Mexicans, takes it name from the ambush of a Mexican pack train by Curly Bill Brocius’ gang of cutthroats in 1882. According to the story, fifteen Mexicans were killed and their bodies left to the scavengers. For years thereafter, their bones provided grisly souvenirs.

Long before Skeleton Canyon became a smuggler’s trail, it had been one of several favored trails of the Apaches in their migrations to and from Mexico’s Sierra Madre Mountains. The Chiracahua Apaches and their related bands used it frequently as it connected the San Simon Valley (on the eastern edge of the Chiracahua Mountains) to the Animas Valley east of the Peloncillo Mountains. Both valleys teemed with game, springs provided the necessary water, and the canyon was an excellent defensive retreat should danger present itself.

Many of the stories surrounding Old Man Clanton and his sons Ike and Billy center about the canyon. Along with Guadalupe Canyon to the south, Skeleton Canyon was a caravan route connecting the outpost settlements of Sonora, Mexico to both Tubac and Tucson, Arizona. The Clantons maintained a residence of sorts near Animas, New Mexico and in addition to their other nefarious activities, they and their outlaw allies preyed upon the caravans. They also drove stolen cattle and horses through the canyon and then south to Sonora where they sold the livestock for gold or silver. On the return trip they rustled Mexican livestock and sold it in Tucson or Tombstone. Old Man Clanton was killed by Mexicans in an ambush that was set in revenge for what he had done in his many forays into Sonora. Legends of the old man’s buried gold continue to lure the adventurous into the region.

A narrow spot in the canyon

The Apaches soon learned that when pursued by Army troops, Skeleton Canyon provided an excellent escape route. Once into the canyon from the west, the trail passes through The Devil’s Kitchen, and the canyon narrows and opens repeatedly throughout its course. It is intersected first by Pony Canyon and then by Pine Canyon, each running south to Dutchman Canyon. The bottom of Skeleton Canyon runs from 4700+ feet in the west to 4900+ feet in the east, and irregular peaks rising abruptly to more than 6000 feet surround it. This is ideal ambush territory, perfectly suited to the Apache’s tactics of ambush and hit-and-run warfare. Following a breakout from the San Carlos Reservation in Arizona in 1885, soldiers of Troop D, 4th Cavalry were waylaid in the canyon by Chihuahua’s band of renegades. Three troopers were killed, their wagons and supplies looted, and forty mules and horses were taken by the Apaches.

Over the years the Apaches who were moving south to camp for the season in Mexico or fleeing the reservation system or on a raid for either loot or revenge found temporary refuge in Skeleton Canyon and the nearby area. In a cruel paradox of history the canyon that had been a source of refuge and protection became the site of their final surrender. On September 3, 1886 a band of Chiracahua Apaches led by Nachite and Geronimo surrendered to General Nelson A. Miles. The renegade band consisted of nineteen men and twenty-eight women and children. They were taken to Fort Bowie, and on the morning of September 8, 1886 were entrained for transportation east and a life away from their native southwest. The Indian Wars of the Southwest ended in Skeleton Canyon.

A hike into the canyon will help one to understand how small bands of Indians could effectively elude large elements of the United States Army that were in pursuit. From the surrounding peaks sentries could see pursuers for miles, long before the pursuers were even in the canyon much less aware of the presence of the Indians. The Indians could either set an ambush to delay pursuit or they could choose to break up into smaller groups and simply disappear into the adjacent canyons to regroup later at a prearranged location.

The topography of the region equalized the odds: the Army could not bring a force to bear that was appreciably larger than the force they were trying to defeat. The situation was perfect for the defender; it was simply a nightmare for the attacker.

The Devil’s Kitchen

Only when General George Crook realized that it took an Apache to catch one and employed the famous Apache Scouts to lead small mule-riding units of Army troops did the situation change. Led by the Scouts, the Army’s smaller mobile forces found that they could follow the renegades into their refuges above or below the international boundary. When Geronimo and other Apache leaders learned they were no longer safe even in the wilderness of Mexico’s Sierra Madres, they realized their days of defiance were over.

Skeleton Canyon no longer echoes with the sounds of bugle, war cry and gunfire. It is quiet now, and only the occasional camper, hiker and horseback rider disturb its rugged and strangely beautiful surroundings. The only connection to its past is an infrequent mounted United States Border Patrol unit riding their horses through the canyon looking for signs of smuggling or the passage of illegal immigrants. The old forest ranger station was abandoned in the 1920s, and its windmill now stands like a silent sentry marking only the passage of an infrequent visitor. Rain brings the water rushing through the canyon undercutting the earth banks in the wider openings and smashing into the rocks in the narrower spots, its sound echoing off the surrounding hills. At night the sky is alive with stars, and the solitude is interrupted only by the cacophonies of wailing coyotes or perhaps the sound of a hunting puma.

Should you decide to visit Skeleton Canyon a few suggestions are in order. A pair of good hiking boots is a necessity, and clothing should be chosen with the old Desert Rat’s axiom in mind: "Everythin’ in the desert is tryin’ to bite, sting or scratch yuh, and sometimes all at once!" A broad-brimmed hat and long-sleeved shirt are recommended, and while you may look good in shorts you may not feel that way after a day in the canyon. Sunblock lotion is a good idea as the sun in our clear desert air can be a real cooker. And of course water, water, water. Take a gallon or more per person because speaking from experience, you never know when you’re going to need it.

This is a long one-day trip from my base in Mesilla, and the trip is more rewarding if made into a two or three-day camping expedition. Take I-10 west to NM 146 and turn left (south) to Hachita. At Hachita turn right (west) on NM 9 and proceed through the Playas Valley to Animas. At the stop sign in Animas turn left on NM 338 and then shortly turn right again to continue west on NM 9. About 12-13 miles west you will go through Antelope Pass in the Peloncillo Mountains and see the Chiracahua Mountains in front of you. NM 9 ends at Rt. 80. Turn left (south) and proceed to Rodeo, about 8 miles. The Geronimo Surrenders Marker is about 12 miles south of Rodeo (this is about 175 miles from Mesilla), and just south of the marker is the Skeleton Canyon road at Apache, Arizona. Take a left and follow the road. A sign cautions that the road is not maintained and if wet from recent rain can be impassable. This is 4WD country. As the road turns to your right follow it past two ranches and continue until you are at a third ranch and the road goes into the creek bed (usually dry). You should see a Skeleton Canyon sign.

Open the gate and proceed (making sure to close the gate behind you!) and follow the primitive road to the surrender site (it is clearly marked by a Forest Service sign). The road to the left is the one you want. Find a place in the canyon to park your vehicle (off the road of course), and begin your adventure.

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The Blacksmith shop which was burned in the 1997 fire at Shakespeare.

For travelers on I-10 in Southern New Mexico, there’s an escape from the truck traffic and even from the 20th century:  a side trip to the ghost town of Shakespeare, located about three miles south of Lordsburg . Because this place is privately owned by the Hill family, a visitor has to catch one of the weekend tours (Call ahead to schedule).

Janaloo Hill, who grew up on the property, and her husband, Manny Houghes, will show you the silver mine set up by the Shakespeare Mining Company and the buildings that flourished around it in the 1870s. You can see the office where the assayers worked as well as the tools they used, the powder magazine where explosives were stored, saloons where miners and cowboys played cards and drank, the tables and dishes they handled, the wooden staircase leading up to the rooms and narrow beds where they slept, and the blacksmith shop and corrals where the horses stood. Billy the Kid worked as a dishwasher in the hotel for awhile, the story goes. A recent fire drew firefighters from all the nearby towns, but dry winds and the isolation of Shakespeare led to extensive damage. Fees from visitors will help rebuild the general store that was partially destroyed, but the property that went up in smoke is irreplaceable.

Manny Houghes demonstrates the use of old tools.

To call the artifacts lying around in these rooms antiques is misleading if you think of antiques as fragile items in museums or decorators’ showplaces. The items here look like they were laid aside by people who will return before long, pick them up, brush off the dust and get to work again. Walking the narrow paths and studying the bare hills on the horizon, stepping in and out of shadowed rooms, observing a cow and her calf who raise their heads to stare at you from behind a rail fence, listening to the same dusty wind that blew a century ago, you feel like a visitor on an empty set, waiting for the actors to come around the corners where they are waiting, to speak their lines and resume their lives.

Like so many out-of-the-way places in this under-populated state, Shakespeare has the feel of a parallel universe existing along side our modern world. Headlines, headaches and hustlers seem to diminish to a point and just disappear.

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