Peterson's legacy amounts to a lengthy career in print, including novels, stories, and poems. For years he roamed the Southwest, preferring ghost towns to cities, deserted claims to resorts and casinos. He'd stop at Spanish missions to kneel before the bones of saints, and at hot springs to heal his damaged nerves. Mostly he savored the wind and the desert quiet without pause. The man tried marriage twice and found each an ill-fit. Of his last book in print he said: "I expect nothing to come about from this." The same might be said for his life, and he'd be okay with that.