To Hell on a Fast Horse

by Mark Lee Gardner

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said as he straightened up and stepped onto the porch with Billy. “There is no one here to hurt you.”

  “¿Quién es?” Billy repeated as he backed down the porch, his six-shooter in one hand and the butcher knife gripped in the other.

  Poe took a step toward Billy, still trying to reassure him, an extremely foolish act considering that a pistol was pointed at his chest. Instead of firing, Billy slipped into the doorway of Maxwell’s bedroom, the thick wall concealing him from Poe’s view, but just as he was gone, he leaned his head back out: “¿Quién es?”

  Pat Garrett heard the commotion on the porch. Just moments earlier, he had walked straight up to Maxwell’s bed, which sat in a corner of the unlit room, and had taken a seat on the edge of the mattress, near the headboard. He had prodded Maxwell awake and then asked him if the Kid was anywhere nearby. Maxwell had seemed agitated and evasive—he was frightened of Billy. Finally, Maxwell had whispered to Garrett that the Kid was not at his place, but he was nearby. At that instant, they both heard the voices outside, and shortly after that, a man appeared in the doorway.

  Billy stepped into the darkened room and approached the bed. At first, Garrett thought this might be Maxwell’s son-in-law, Manuel Abreú, coming to ask Maxwell who the strange men were. Not realizing how deadly this situation was, Garrett did not try to grab his pistol at first.

  “Pete, who are those fellows on the outside?” Billy said, still coming closer. He reached out and placed his hand on the end of the bed.

  “That’s him,” Maxwell breathed to Garrett, who had just figured this out. Garrett instantly reached around for his Colt.

  Billy, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, saw the sheriff’s movement and sprang back, simultaneously bringing up his six-shooter and beginning to point it. “¿Quién es?” “¿Quién es?”

  The Kid sensed danger, but he hesitated to fire his weapon. He did not recognize the person sitting on Maxwell’s bed; he (or she) might be a friend. That hesitation of not more than a heartbeat or two, that split-second confusion born of the Kid’s conscience, was all Garrett needed.

  A Colt Single Action Army revolver makes four distinct clicks when its hammer is pulled back to full cock. When the hammer is pulled back rapidly, however, the clicks are nearly indistinguishable, resulting in a quick, ratchetlike sound. Billy heard this sound, and then he was blinded by a bright flash of light, followed by a deafening roar. He felt a powerful, paralyzing blow to his chest, and he fell limp to the floor.

  Garrett had jerked his pistol from its holster and fired it in one swift motion. Although he, too, was blinded by the handgun’s muzzle flash, he quickly lunged to his side and fired a second shot in the same direction, filling the room with acrid blackpowder smoke. Garrett then ran for the door. Maxwell bolted upright and jumped over the foot of his bed, getting tangled in the sheets and blankets and falling to the floor. After Garrett dashed out onto the porch, he put his back against the adobe wall next to the door. A wide-eyed Poe rushed up to him, his gun drawn. When Maxwell finally came out of the bedroom, Poe instinctively pointed his pistol at him.

  “Don’t shoot Maxwell,” Garrett warned, at the same time pushing his deputy’s six-shooter down with his hand.

  “That was the Kid that came in there onto me, and I think I have got him,” Garrett told his deputies.

  “Pat, the Kid would not come to this place,” Poe said. “You have shot the wrong man.”

  Poe’s remark shook Garrett but only for a moment. He quickly reviewed in his mind what had just happened. “I am sure that was him,” Garrett finally said, “for I know his voice too well to be mistaken.”

  Following the gunshots, Poe had heard a groan and some gasps or gurgling sounds, but the room was now silent. Still, no one wanted to go in without making damn sure Billy the Kid was dead, or at least incapacitated. Maxwell retrieved a tallow candle and put it in one of the open windows. The candle’s flickering flame revealed the body of a young man, spread-eagle on the floor. Garrett and Maxwell confirmed that the body was indeed that of William H. Bonney. A butcher knife could be seen on the floor near his left hand and a pistol near his right. Garrett could also see his Winchester carbine leaning up against the door facing, where he had placed it just minutes before.

  The lawmen and Maxwell filed into the room and carefully examined the Kid’s body. Garrett’s first shot from his .44 had pierced Billy’s chest just above his heart; his second had gone wild. There was some confusion, though, as to whether or not Billy had gotten a shot off at Garrett. Poe and McKinney swore they heard three shots come from the room. Garrett believed the Kid had fired one shot between his two, and Maxwell was certain that the Kid had fired. After carefully examining the room for bullet marks, however, they found only the two created by Garrett’s pistol. They then inspected Billy’s pistol. It was a Colt double-action identical to his Lightning (which had been confiscated at Stinking Spring), except this pistol was in .41 caliber. Five of the cylinder’s six chambers contained cartridges while one contained an empty shell casing. The hammer rested upon this empty shell, a common safety practice (if the hammer rested on a live cartridge, a harsh jar might set the gun off accidentally). The men were forced to conclude that the Kid had not fired his weapon, but they could not explain why they had heard three shots.

  BY NOW, MANY OF Fort Sumner’s residents had heard about the shooting and were gathering outside the room to see if it was true that Billito was dead. Most of these were friends or sympathizers of the Kid. Deluvina, the Maxwell family servant, had been especially fond of the outlaw. Short, dark-skinned, and decidedly unattractive, Deluvina was also strong, a hard worker, and loyal. A well-known healer, she was often seen far out on the prairie gathering various flowers, leaves, and roots for her elixirs. In her spare time, she enjoyed a good drink and good smoking tobacco. She was about twelve years older than the Kid, and she was one of those who wanted to mother Bonney. “Billy the Kid was Deluvina’s idol,” remembered Paulita, “she worshipped him; to her mind, there never was such a wonderful boy in all the world.”

  Deluvina went into Maxwell’s bedroom with Jesus Silva, a Maxwell cowhand and a friend of Billy’s. She burst into tears when she saw Billy’s face, and between her sobs, she was loudly cursing Pat Garrett. As she left the room, she cried out, “My little boy is dead!”

  Paulita Maxwell also had a long look at the body. Her room was in the same building, and the gunshots had startled her awake. John Poe studied the girl carefully. Garrett had told him about her love for the Kid, and the deputy was surprised by how little emotion she showed as she stared down at the corpse. Poe had not seen the girl before that night, of course, and only Paulita knew the thoughts that raced through her mind when she saw that poor Billito would never again whisper in her ear, bring her a treat, or crack that funny grin.

  Several Hispanic women begged Garrett to let them remove the body, and he agreed. Maxwell suggested they take it to the old carpenter shop near the quartermaster’s corral. The shop contained a sturdy workbench where they could place the body. Jesus Silva, who helped transport the corpse to the workshop, found it odd that the chest wound did not bleed until approximately two hours after Billy had been shot. Only a small spot of red on the front of the Kid’s light-colored shirt gave away the fatal bullet’s entry point. The women carefully prepared the body for a wake, placing lighted candles all around it, and for the rest of the night, a number of Fort Sumner’s residents, both men and women, kept quiet watch over their friend Billito.

  Garrett and his men also kept watch that night, but not over Billy the Kid. The sheriff was concerned that some of Billy’s distraught friends might attempt to exact revenge. Local sheepherder Francisco Lobato said later that if they had had a leader, they would have done just that. But Sumner’s natural-born leader, the one who specialized in revenge, was dead. The rest of the night passed without incident.

  Garrett had ordered Alcalde Alejandro Seguro to hold an inquest on th
e killing, and the following morning, the alcalde named six men to what was essentially a coroner’s jury. Among the members of the jury were Garrett’s brother-in-law, Saval Gutiérrez, and Garrett’s friend from Sunnyside, Milnor Rudolph, who served as foreman. No inquest had been held at Fort Sumner for Billy’s pals Charlie Bowdre and Tom Folliard, but then again, there had been no reward for either of those men. With $500 cash at stake, Garrett was very particular that there be a legal paper trail to document his success. He had gone through hell collecting the last reward from the Territory, so he was determined to give Santa Fe’s bureaucrats as little to doubt as possible.

  The jury viewed the body in the carpenter’s shop to confirm the cause and manner of death, after which they visited Maxwell’s bedroom and took testimony from Don Pedro, the only eyewitness to the shooting other than Sheriff Garrett. The men promptly came up with a verdict: “We of the jury unanimously find that William Bonney came to his death from a bullet wound in the left breast near the region of the heart fired by a pistol in the hand of Pat F. Garrett and our judgment is that the action of said Garrett was justifiable homicide and we are united in opinion that the gratitude of all the community is due to said Garrett for his action and whom is worthy of being compensated.”

  The reference here to compensation suggests that Garrett must have been involved in the verdict’s wording, and the jury may not have been united in this expression of gratitude. Gutiérrez and two other jury members, for example, never read the verdict in its finished form—they were illiterate. In any case, Garrett now had the documentation he needed to present his claim to the Territory.

  The Kid’s funeral took place that afternoon. Garrett had arranged with Maxwell to make sure the body was “neatly and properly dressed.” Jesus Silva constructed a crude coffin, after which he and Fort Sumner resident Vicente Otero dug a grave in the old post cemetery. The coffin was transported to the burying ground in Otero’s wood wagon and was followed by a procession of nearly every resident of Fort Sumner. The words spoken over the grave came from Job, chapter 14: “Man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.” The next day, a marker made out of a stave from the fort’s picket fence was placed at the head of the grave. Stenciled on the board’s eroded surface were the words “Billy the Kid.” No last name. No date. No quaint Victorian sentiment.

  Garrett got himself ready to leave for Las Vegas and Santa Fe, and Pete Maxwell would ride with him for part of the trip. The sheriff dismissed his two deputies, who set off down the Pecos, McKinney for his home near Roswell and Poe for White Oaks. John W. Poe was never able to come to understand why Billy had hesitated and had not killed him that night when he came upon Poe and McKinney outside of Maxwell’s residence. If anything, Billy had an uncanny knack for staying alive. Poe puzzled over the strange events of that night on his long ride back to White Oaks—and for years to come. Toward the end of his life, he came to a single conclusion: Billy Bonney’s demise had been foreordained.

  9

  Both Hero and Villain

  I sometimes wish that I had missed fire [and] that the Kid had got in his work on me.

  —PAT F. GARRETT

  KILLING THE KID.

  Pat Garrett’s Nervy Feat.

  He Catches and Shoots Billy Bonney.

  A Wound Through the Heart Which

  Wrought Good for New Mexico.

  Quickness and Bravery Required and

  Found in a Sheriff’s Arm and Eye.

  THOSE WERE THE HEADLINES in the Santa Fe New Mexican. News of the Kid’s death had reached Las Vegas on Monday morning, July 18, brought there direct from Fort Sumner by the mail contractor. The Las Vegas Gazette scooped its rival, the Daily Optic, getting a brief report to the Western Union office by 8:00 A.M., which gave several newspapers across the country the chance to feature the news in their afternoon editions. In Santa Fe, the intelligence had first been communicated in a telegram sent from Las Vegas to Billy’s old antagonist, John S. Chisum, who was then in the capital and no doubt euphoric at the news. Sent by military contractor Marcus Brunswick, a friend of Chisum’s, the telegram was only one sentence: “Pat Garrett killed Billy Kid near Sumner Friday night.”

  Garrett and Pete Maxwell arrived in Las Vegas later that same Monday, which allowed the Daily Optic to get the first interview with the lawman. The Optic fawned over Garrett while demonizing the Kid, a pattern repeated in newspapers throughout the Territory, and, to a lesser extent, the nation. Garrett was the “terror of all evil-doers” who deserved to be well rewarded for his “cool, brave conduct.” Billy Bonney, on the other hand, was “a bold thief, a cold-blooded murderer, having perhaps killed more men than any man of his age in the world…. All mankind rejoices and the newspapers will now have something else to talk about.” The Kid’s death was covered in the New York Times, Chicago Tribune, Boston Globe, Rocky Mountain News, Salt Lake Herald, Minneapolis Tribune, Tombstone Daily Nugget (which used as its headline, “A Corner in Hell Filled”), Indianapolis News, and scores of others, even the venerable Times of London, England.

  The Albuquerque Daily Journal wanted Garrett appointed the U.S. marshal for the Territory. The Kansas City Journal opined that Garrett was just the man to solve Missouri’s outlaw problem: “He who will follow the James boys and their companions in crime to their den, and shoot them down without mercy, will be crowned with honors by the good people of this commonwealth, and be richly rewarded in money besides.” When a Colorado newspaper suggested that Garrett be sent to Washington to serve as a guard for Charles J. Guiteau, President James A. Garfield’s assassin, the Daily New Mexican commented that a better idea would be to let Guiteau loose and then offer Garrett a reward for him. Garrett had “achieved a fame which will be undying,” the Rio Grande Republican observed, which was all too true. Pat Garrett was now, and forevermore, the man who shot Billy the Kid.

  Garrett arrived in Santa Fe by rail on July 19, and one of the first things he did was to defend Pete Maxwell. The buzz around the capital was that Maxwell had somehow been in cahoots with the Kid, that he had been knowingly harboring the desperado. This was fueled by rumors about Billy’s relationship with Pete’s sister. In a long interview with the Daily New Mexican, Garrett denied that Maxwell had been hiding the outlaw and said that fear alone had prevented Pete from letting anyone know where the Kid was. Maxwell had assured Garrett that if there had been a safe way of letting the sheriff know, he would have done so. Although Garrett’s explanation satisfied the reporter, it makes little sense because others at Fort Sumner found that informing on Billy was as easy as licking a postage stamp and sticking it on an envelope. Did Pete Maxwell fail to inform on the Kid because he did not want to hurt his sister? Garrett was most likely protecting Paulita’s reputation. Like Billy, Fort Sumner had been the sheriff’s home; he still had friends and relatives there.

  Garrett’s main business in Santa Fe was to see about the reward money. Unfortunately, he had to deal with William G. Ritch, secretary of the Territory and acting governor (the new governor, Lionel Sheldon, had rushed to Washington, D.C., upon hearing that his friend President Garfield had been shot). Ritch had made it difficult for Garrett to collect the first reward, after Garrett’s capture of Billy at Stinking Spring. The lawman had already forwarded his report to the Palace of the Governors, where it had been received Monday evening. The next Wednesday afternoon, Garrett called on the acting governor, and he brought reinforcements: Thomas B. Catron and Marcus Brunswick. Catron was one of the most powerful men in the Territory and an extremely skilled attorney. Undoubtedly having received legal advice from Catron, Garrett presented Ritch with a bill for $500 for the “capture” of William Bonney. He also submitted as evidence for his claim an affidavit from the editor and manager of the Daily New Mexican confirming that the reward offer had been published, the Fort Sumner coroner’s jury verdict, and his own statement summing up how he killed the Kid.


  Ritch put the men off. But, having been roundly criticized for delaying the first reward, Ritch made sure it did not appear that he was refusing to honor the Territory’s offer. He assured Garrett and his supporters that he was willing to pay the reward and was glad to do so. But he needed some time to go over the Territory’s records and confirm the reward offer. Garrett could not have heard this as good news. The sheriff possessed the published reward notice and proof of Bonney’s death. How much more confirmation did Ritch need? A lot more, it turns out. The attorney general advised Ritch that the reward notice appeared to be a personal offer of the former governor, as there was no record in either the governor’s office or the secretary’s office that Wallace had offered the reward as an executive act. Consequently, if the reward was to be paid with territorial funds, it would have to be approved by the legislature. On July 21, Ritch suspended any action on Garrett’s claim until it could be brought before the next Legislative Assembly.

  Fortunately, Garrett would have cash to hold him over in the meantime. The day after the sheriff’s arrival in the capital, Jimmy Dolan pounded the streets of Santa Fe, asking for cash donations for Garrett to reward him for slaying “the worst man the Territory has known.” Dolan had collected $560 by the end of the day; he would eventually give Garrett $1,150. The same thing was going on in other New Mexico communities, from Las Vegas to Las Cruces. Las Vegas had a similar collection, contributing nearly $1,000 in a few hours’ time. John Chisum was reportedly prepared to hand the sheriff $1,000 of his own money, and it was expected that another $1,000 would come from the citizens of Lincoln County (the ones who were not Kid sympathizers). Even without the reward, the many donations represented a small fortune for someone of little means such as Garrett.

  On Thursday, July 28, Pat Garrett purchased a horse and rode out of Santa Fe, alone, for Las Vegas. It was much quicker to go by train, of course, but lately things had been moving pretty fast for the lawman, and if he was on a train ride, he might have to talk and be sociable with the other passengers. Better to sit astride a good horse, enjoy the smell of sage, feel the warm sun from a turquoise sky, and just let the mind wander.