Somewhere south in Sonora A novel

Just to see Bart leaning against the doorway — on his feet, but relaxed in a way no white boy could stand, a guitar in his hand, perhaps — had a way of filling his father with a revulsion that Bob had to take out to the mesa to quiet. It was as if the man saw the face of his boy under a high-tinted sombrero (instead of the cast-off cavalryman’s campaign hat with a Copley peak) as if a sash of seda were thrust back over the shoulder. Bob didn’t quite know it, but it was because he was seeing Bart with the eyes of the other miners at these times — that he was stung so. The town had put a secret fear on him that his boy was not showing up white...FROM THE BOOK.