thirty miles out

In the late 1800s, a stop at a bar in the mining town of Clifton in southeastern Arizona might mean bellying up for a beer or whiskey — or a dose of cocaine, morphine or heroin. “There were no restrictions whatsoever on any of those drugs,” said Eduardo Pagán, author of the new book "Tumbleweed Underworld: A Saga of Morphine and Mayhem in the Arizona Territory."

Dean Dillon

The man behind the music

Desert Shepherdess

Adelina Ruelas (1920)

Jack Swilling (1830 - 1878)

Arivaca Ranch

Rising Shadows

Drag Rider

Into the Wild West

French photographer Anouk Masson Krantz has accomplished something that only few people have achieved before: she drove through the American West, immersed herself in the world of the cowboy, and became part of their culture.

Once Upon a Time in the West

"We were crossing the plains in 1852 when Spotted Tail with about thirty warriors, fresh from the Crow war, rode up to our camp early one morning. I was cooking breakfast for our party, and I tell you I was pretty well scared, but I thought to offer them something to eat and after several attempts, made them understand what I wanted, and finally gave them all a breakfast of bread and sugar and coffee. When they first came they sat on their horses with feathers in their hair, and said nothing to me and nothing to each other, and I really thought my time had come. After they had eaten their breakfast they went on up the Platte River toward Fort Laramie. After we had traveled about three hundred miles we camped in the vicinity of a large Indian force under the control of Spotted Tail. I was with a group of men that had gathered when I felt a tug at my coat tail. I looked around quickly but saw no one, so I went on speaking to the man that I had been talking to. Pretty soon I felt another tug, and looking around saw an Indian, whom I recognized as the leader of the band that had eaten breakfast at our camp a few days before. The Indian told me that his name was Spotted Tail, and that he wanted me to come to his camp a few miles away. I told him I would go. Although the others in our party tried to dissuade me from the undertaking, I went. The chief treated me with great kindness and hospitality. He was a tall, athletic Indian, and his daughters were very pretty, having regular features and black hair. I returned to the train well pleased with my visit. Forty years after, while at the world's fair, I met a young man who had some office at Fort Laramie, which post Spotted Tail often visited. He told me that Spotted Tail often inquired about me, said that he had never been so well treated by a white man in his life, and expressed a desire to have me come and see him. I was very sorry that I never went through the reservation where Spotted Tail lived to stop off and see him."

Kurt Marcus