The eight men around me couldn’t help but chuckle at Bowdre’s attempt to imitate Tunstall’s English accent.
“Here comes Dick,” MacNab said. “What do we want to do?”
“Uh-oh, Daddy’s gonna be mad,” I said, rolling on the ground in laughter.
“Tell it like it is,” Charlie said. “Or rather, Billy can once he sobers up.”
“And that’ll take how long?” Henry Brown asked.
“Give or take five minutes,” Fred Waite told him. “Ten, maybe?”
“Why they naked?” Sam asked, referring to Morton and Baker.
“Lost their clothes in the change,” Fred explained.
“What in hell have you done, Billy?” boomed Dick’s voice as he jumped off his horse and stormed over.
I sat up and snorted a laugh before looking to Charlie. “He was like two hundred yards behind us. How does he know it was me?”
“Because you are trouble,” Charlie replied with a grin.
I fell back onto the ground to stare up at the sky. “You speak the truth, Charles. You speak the truth!”
“Damn it all to hell,” Dick said, breaking through the group like Moses parting the Red Sea. Eyes landing on the two dead men, he took off his hat and squatted next to them. “Damn,” he said under his breath, and all of us were quiet as the call of a raven filled the air.
Dick looked up at Charlie. “What the hell happened? I want to know this instant!”
“Well...” I began to say.
“Not from you, Barbara May, you’re worthless right now, I can tell. Charles?”
“They shifted and made a run for it. Billy and I pursued, and they died from silver wounds, simple as that.”
“It is not as simple as that! Why is McCloskey dead back there? What happened?!”
“Well, it seems that—” I started to say again.
Dick spun to face me, his ruddy cheeks now bold red with anger. “Did I ask you?” he yelled. “I made those men a promise. Where do you get the right to make me a liar? You alone do not get to decide who lives and dies, William H. Bonney, not on my watch.” He looked away from me to Morton and Baker. Emotion filling his voice, he said again, “I made them a promise.”
Getting up on my knees, I said, “I’m sorry for that, Dick. I am. But you should know—”
“Did I say I wanted to hear your lousy excuse?” he yelled, hovering over me. “Just shut up and ride out your high.” He turned and began to walk off.
Now I was mad. Standing with a wobble, steadied by Fred, I yelled out, “The hell I will, you overgrown ogre!”
Dick stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned around, and his eyes landed on me with the need for vengeance all over his face. “I suggest you choose your next words carefully, William.”
“Okay, Richard,” I said, using his full name as well, just to be a pain in his ass. “You want the damn truth, here you go.”
I explained what had happened exactly, my head becoming less twirly as time passed.
Dick looked to the sky. “So Billy killed Morton with one shot, and Charlie wounded Baker, but Billy killed him for the soul. Yes?”
Everyone mumbled their agreement.
Dick looked down at the ground and began to pace as we all stood waiting. Finally, he said, “We need to dress them.”
Charlie grimaced. “Uh, why?”
“You two shot ‘em, so you can dress ‘em. Who has clothes that’ll fit either of ‘em?”
A shirt was offered, then pants, and so on until we had enough. Now fully sober, I hunted for the silver bullets so they’d not be found. When they were nowhere to be seen, I called Doc over and asked if he had an idea as to where they’d gone.
“Why do you think I know why? I was a dentist, Billy, not a supernatural surgeon.”
I sighed. “I figured you’d know more than anyone else here.”
Dick wandered back over to us. “What’s taking so long?”
I explained and watched Dick as he processed the info, scratching at the blond stubble on the side of his face. “Garrett never addressed this, but is it possible that the silver kills them because it liquefies into their body?”
“It would have to stop their heart to kill them since they didn’t bleed out,” Doc added.
“Says the dentist,” I teased.
Doc rolled his eyes at me, and I couldn’t help but snicker.
“I think Doc’s right,” Fred said, and seeing that he’d had the most education of us, being as he’d gone to college and all, we were all inclined to listen.
“If that’s the case,” I said, “then let’s get these bastards dressed and then shoot them with lead so we can get outta here.”
“We’re takin’ them with us,” Dick said.
Charlie began to put a shirt on Baker. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No, I just happen to not believe in leavin’ two men out on the land to rot like they did to John. Dress them and we’ll take them into Agua Negra and have them buried.”
“After we shoot ‘em with lead here,” Charlie stated for clarification.
“Yes. Doc, come with me,” Dick said, waving the ex-dentist to follow him to McCloskey and his horse.
“Is it me, or is Brewer actin’ peculiar?” Charlie asked as he fastened Baker’s shirt.
I began to dress Morton. “It’s not just you.”
“Somethin’ is going on with him,” Fred said. “The question is what.”
Once we got to Agua Negra, we found a place to eat while Dick looked for men who’d bury our three outlaws. By the time he rejoined us, we’d already eaten, but told him we’d wait on him to do so before getting back on the road.
He waved us off. “I’m not hungry anyway. Let’s saddle up and move out.”
We’d followed him to the horses when John Middleton, who’d been mostly quiet until now, said, “Where to now, Captain?”
“We get our story straight first of all.”
“What story is that?” Charlie asked.
Dick thought for a moment, then said, “I hate lyin’, but we have no choice.”
“Not like we can go into town yelling about werewolves,” MacNab said.
Dick pointed at him in agreement. “We keep it simple. We’ll say that we were about five or six miles shy of reaching Agua Negra when Morton, who’d been ridin’ side by side with McCloskey, snatched his gun and shot him dead.” He paused, taking Mattie’s reins in hand. “Then he and Baker took off on horseback, Morton firin’ shots at us with McCloskey’s gun. We returned fire, overtook ‘em, and they died from wounds received during the attempted escape. That’s it.”
“What about the silver cuffs McCloskey removed from them bastards?” I asked. “Those were our only two.”
Dick hoisted himself up into the saddle. “MacNab, you willin’ to go find ‘em? Spread our story of what happened? You can meet back up with us in San Patricio later.”
MacNab mounted his horse. “Consider it done. I should reach Roswell by Sunday. I’ll head to San Pat after.”
“Godspeed,” Dick said.
MacNab headed back the way we came while we moved on to Lincoln. Reaching town by nightfall, Dick sent us on to San Pat, saying he’d take care of this on his own.
As the rest started to head east, I turned to Brewer. “Ya sure you don’t want help with this?”
“I’m sure. Remember, we can’t tell McSween about your curse. Him or Widenmann. Garrett’s orders. I’ll take care of this. Go do whatever you want, like usual.”
I cringed inside and headed east, catching up with the rest of the Regulators, for I knew damn well that Brewer was still mad at me, and there was nothing I could do about it.
March, 1949
That seemed to be my lot in life. Pissing Brewer off, waiting for the big lug to forgive me, and then waiting until we repeated that. It became a pattern for us, you could say. Sitting in my car, I chuffed at the memory, then went right at the fork where Highway 70 and Route 380 split. If I stayed on 70, I�
��d head to San Pat like we had that day, but I had other business I needed to take care of.
As I passed the sign alerting me that I’d entered Lincoln, my heart began to beat a little faster in anticipation of what the town I used to love so much would look like. Back in the late 1870s, Lincoln was the liveliest of towns; its dusty road was filled with people of all walks of life. Mexicans, Anglos, Apache, and buffalo soldiers could be seen coming and going as they purchased or traded for goods before stopping in at one of the saloons for a spell to have a drink and catch up on the latest news.
Children and dogs had played in yards while chickens ran around town like they owned the place. Farmers with burros carrying panniers loaded with fruits and vegetables would wander the street shouting what they had for sale while the poor old man who owned the water cart dragged that thing from one end of town to the other each day.
Open doorways spilled the sounds of life out onto the street. From the banging of metal as the smithy made horseshoes to the sound of music coming from homes, to the laughter and the voices of drunken men from the saloons...the air was filled with life. It was never dull in Lincoln. Until now.
I slowed my car to a crawl and stared in horror at what seemed to be a ghost town. I saw not a soul outside, not even children at play or animals in yards. There was no one selling food or chatting outside on a porch as I drove past what had been the Tunstall Store. It looked much like it had back in the day, if not a little larger. Slowing down, I inched along past where the McSween home used to be, and my chest tightened at the memories of those who lost their lives there.
I continued westward past buildings I didn’t recognize and pulled over at my planned stop, the Wortley Hotel. However, as I put the car in park, I stared in horror at what remained of the old diner and hotel. Turning the car off, I stepped out and stared in disbelief at the charred remnants of what had been the Wortley Hotel.
Shutting the car door, I walked up what must’ve been the side driveway, the only sound the gravel under my boots. Standing there, I examined the destruction and quickly realized my home had changed, and not for the better. Looking to my left, I saw that The House still stood, but it now had double staircases outside. During the war, when Murphy and Dolan lived on that top level, they didn’t exist. But one of the two were built when Garrett had been sheriff years later.
The silence was deafening, yet the ghosts of my past were loud inside my mind. That’s when I remembered the river. Where was it? I couldn’t see or hear it from here. Turning, I headed north to the water and saw it was way farther down the hill than it’d been when I’d lived here. It wasn’t nearly as wide either. I understood the concept of erosion, but even this seemed a large drop for such a short period of time.
“I can’t stay here,” I said aloud to no one, and turned to head back to the road.
By the time I reached my car, another had appeared on the street across from me, and a man with a jangling set of keys made his way to the double doors of The House. Before really making a decision to do so, I was moving toward the man at an accelerated speed. I had to know what had happened here. What killed the town I’d loved with all my heart?
I prayed it wasn’t my fault.
March, 1878
San Patricio was a small town not far from Lincoln. If Dolan could say most of Lincoln were his friends, most of San Pat’s were ours. Because of that, we tended to throw a bailé there on Saturdays every now and again, and tonight would be no different. Secretly though, I wanted to stay in Lincoln with Brewer. Not that I needed to go play law-boy, but I was wanting to corner Brewer about his shoulder once and for all without the others around.
However, seeing as he made it evident he didn’t want any company, there was no way to stay without it getting weird. Besides, there was a bailé to attend, and not only did I love to dance, but the señoritas in San Pat were beautiful, and I was in the mood to have some time with the ladies.
Figuring we’d not see Brewer again for a while, meaning no work, we all had zero reservations with leaving our guns outside and going in to have some fun. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long.
Spinning a voluptuous señorita about the dance floor, I caught sight of a very tall man arriving about halfway through the evening, his hat hiding his face as he ducked his head to enter through the doorway. I knew better, but I ignored his arrival, my focus totally captivated by the low-cut dress and beautiful brown eyes of the señorita in my arms.
As the song ended, we clapped, and my dance partner leaned in and whispered tantalizing words into my ear.
“Soy todo tuyo,” I said to her, with a wink.
“Actually, he’s mine first,” came a voice from behind me.
I turned. “Brewer, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I have news. Get the rest of the Regulators and come with me.”
Without waiting for my reply, he moved deftly through the dancers on his way to the door.
“This is not going to be good news,” I said to no one in particular.
The pretty señorita I’d been dancing with heard me and said, “¿Qué dijiste?”
“Nada,” I replied, then politely excused myself from her company with a promise to return shortly. Catching up with Dick just before he exited the room, I placed a hand on his good shoulder. “Whoa there, cowboy, what’s on fire?”
“We are,” he said. “Axtel has made us outlaws. Now get the boys and come outside.” He jerked his shoulder out from under my hand and ducked back out into the night.
“Damn it,” I muttered, and did as he asked.
Once we were all outside and away from anyone who’d be trying to listen in, Dick said it again. “Governor Axtel has made us outlaws.”
“How?” Charlie demanded to know.
“Seems while we were riding back with Morton and Baker, the governor arrived in Lincoln, escorted by Colonel Purington, and spent the day investigating the trouble going on.”
“The trouble?” I parroted. “That’s what they’re callin’ John’s murder? You have got to be―”
“Oh, there’s more,” Dick said. “Seems after an extensive interview process, and when I say extensive, I mean three hours spent primarily with Murphy and Dolan, he removed Justice of the Peace Wilson from office and voided all processes issued by him.”
“Wait a sec,” Doc Scurlock said. “He can’t do that. It would bring into question every single action, includin’ arrests, weddin’s, and warrants for the past two years. That’s a lot of retrials, annulled marriages creatin’ illegitimate children, and―”
“It would negate Widenmann’s U.S. Marshal status,” Middleton added.
“As well as our warrants for Morton and Baker,” I pointed out, “which is why we’re outlaws, since they died by our hand while not truly under arrest.”
Dick nodded. “You’re all correct. He also declared that startin’ today, the only valid legal processes for Lincoln County are by those issued by Judge Bristol in La Mesilla and Sheriff Brady in Lincoln. Brady’s deputies are the only officers empowered to enforce both.”
Fred Waite, a good law-abiding man, stepped forward. “All legal power in Lincoln County, hell, in all of New Mexico, is now in the Santa Fe Ring’s hands. Is that what you’re tellin’ us?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m sayin’. Good news is our Regulator Network Liaison is in town. The one meant for John. I told McSween to send him to find you here, Billy. Have you met him yet?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll show up tomorrow then,” Dick said.
“Is the governor still in town?” Big Jim French asked.
“Nope. Hell, he wasn’t even there when I arrived. He’d already headed back to the capital. McSween said that Axtel briefly spoke to him, Isaac Ellis, and Widenmann, but he declined to listen to their views on John’s death.”
“McSween needs to get out of that town again or he’s a dead man,” Charlie said, his hand resting where his gun should’ve been. “We need to
fetch our weapons and get him outta there.”
“I told him as such, but seein’ as he just got back, he’s not wantin’ to leave again so soon. Good news is he’s still protected by, and in the custody of, Deputy Sheriff Barrier.”
“That’s not real protection,” Henry interjected, “but at least it’s some.”
“Like Barrier is any match for the lot of them if Brady and his boys decide to shove their way into the McSweens’ house,” I pointed out. “Damn it all to hell!”
I had to walk off the mad, take a moment to calm down, so I did. It wasn’t the idea of being labeled an outlaw that upset me. God knows that wasn’t new. It was just that each time we seemed to gain a bit of ground, the Santa Fe Ring pulled the rug out from under us.
Hearing someone approach behind me, I spun about, hand reaching for my hidden gun.
“Just me,” Charlie said.
I nodded my apology for almost drawing on him. “What do we do now? My gut instinct is to always go for action, but that might not be the best for everyone.”
“We probably just need a few days to figure it out. Lay low, see how the chips fall.”
I looked over at Dick and the rest of the men and felt a heavy weight on me. I refused to show it though, and said, “You know what? Axtel can try all he wants to hold us back, but we still made headway today. I’m gonna go back inside, dance with that pretty little señorita again, and maybe...” I winked at Charlie, “maybe I’ll steal me a kiss or two.”
I didn’t give him a chance to reply. Instead, I headed back to the bailé and did exactly as I said I would, and more.
9
The Dangerous One-Mile Ride
The next day we attended Sunday morning services at the church with the rest of the town. Considering my curse, plus where I’d spent the night, I was mildly surprised I didn’t burst into flames upon entering. Once we’d sung hymns and been warned about how our souls could end up spending eternity in Hell, which gave me the jitters, we all assisted the other menfolk with setting up chairs and tables for the Sunday shared meal. I even pitched in with moving food from individual kitchens to the building they used for the town hall.
The Curse of Billy the Kid: Untold Legends Volume One Page 10