The “town” of Cornudas, Texas, was little more than a wide spot on Highway 54 between El Paso and Carlsbad, New Mexico. It consisted of two or three abandoned gasoline pumps, a motel, which also appeared to be abandoned, and a rustic little country restaurant operated by what I surmised to be the only family to reside in that isolated desert landscape. The restaurant was the gathering place for local ranchers, Border Patrol agents, State Troopers, hunters and an occasional trucker or touris ...