PULPVILLE-7

I'm not proud of the events surrounding that incident. Nearly thirty years have passed since that misspent
youth. And although I have not consulted a lawyer, I believe the statute of limitations has expired. If the law
wants to ask me a few questions, they'll find me easily enough. I'm at the point in my life where I'm more
concerned with facing the truth than denying it. I hope the following pages put a lot of rumor and innuendo to
rest, and help explain some unusual events that occurred there. I want to add that the following pages were
not written under duress -- in fact, I am amazed at the ease with which the text flew onto the monitor once I
began this project. Imagine re-assembling a puzzle of 100,000 pieces. It seemed confusing at first, but when
the framework was complete shadows stepped from the corners of my mind to coalesce into something of
form, substance, and detail. A weird scrapbook.

There's an old line -- I think it's a joke -- "If you can remember the '60's you weren't there." Lucky for me, all this
happened after the cutoff date.

Although I've heard for years from the survivors of that time and place, "Trinidad, Colorado, there's a book in
there somewhere," I have always been reluctant to write that book.

Now there is only one survivor of that incident, and I think the time has come to set the story straight.

I have changed all of the names in this book out of respect for the living and the families of the deceased. To
further disguise the identities, I have created composite characters. The physical descriptions of other
characters are slightly altered, to the puzzlement of some and the relief of others. I have made every effort to
keep the geographic descriptions accurate, but have changed some of the names. "Burro Canyon," for
example, was renamed "Burrito Canyon." The survivors know why this had to be done.

Yet the events and the time line are accurate.

Despite the necessary obfuscation of the human identities, my intent to depict one character shall remain true
to my experience: The town and region of Trinidad, Colorado. I confess I wrestled with that notion at first. I
considered creating an amalgam for the setting, much as I've combined certain characters.

Let's be honest. For most of us the great characters we meet in our lives are not always defined by noble
qualities and heroic deeds. Their uniqueness, particular quirks, and humanity set them apart.

If we take stock of our surroundings, we may either love or hate our town our city, or have completely neutral
sentiments. IN Trinidad, residents both love and hate their city. To live and work in such a pastoral setting, to
consciously or subconsciously draw strength and inner peace from the landscape and rhythms of the natural
world, people will endure ignorance, poverty, and wasted opportunity. There always has been, and always will
be, a deep dark passion and ineluctable magnetism to the town that defies its seemingly moribund state.

It's buried in the 9old mine shafts that crisscross the county and in the mass graves to the north. It's in the
deserted mining camps that surround the heart of the city, marking boom and bust like the rings of a tree.
Trinidad is a town of ruins built from the rubble of her ancestors, no matter if the rubble comes from the
hillsides or the human spirits trapped in this indomitable land. But one who pauses to listen to the brick-paved
streets, or spends and hour on a forlorn butte called Simpson's Rest that overlooks the town, can magically
see the past coalesce just enough to prompt the future.

To have altered the town for the purpose of this text, and butchered and diluted its character, would have been
unfair to Trinidad and another act of denial.