To Hell on a Fast Horse

by Mark Lee Gardner

  The Texas man’s name was Ollie L. “Brushy Bill” Roberts, and he had petitioned New Mexico’s governor Thomas J. Mabry for a pardon. Brushy, according to his El Paso lawyer, was old and tired of running, although exactly who or what he was running from at that late date is unclear. The governor agreed to meet with Brushy Bill in Santa Fe on November 30 to either verify Brushy’s claim or dismiss it. The meeting took place in the governor’s executive mansion in front of newspaper reporters, historians, Cliff McKinney (son of Garrett’s deputy, Kip), and Oscar and Jarvis Garrett.

  When Oscar Garrett’s turn came to grill Brushy, he declined, saying he chose not to “dignify the occasion.” Turns out, Oscar did not have to. Brushy seemed confused and had trouble answering several pointed questions. He did not know who the Kid fought with in the Lincoln County War, he denied killing James Bell and Bob Olinger, and he had to be prompted before he could come up with Pat Garrett’s name. Perhaps Brushy was nervous in front of all those stern faces. The likely explanation is that Brushy Bill was a pathetic phony. The only thing he shared in common with Billy the Kid was a wild imagination. Mabry announced he would not consider a pardon, then or ever.

  “Billy the Kid’s Dead All Right” was the title of an editorial in the next day’s Santa Fe New Mexican. “We’re glad it was so bad,” commented the paper on Brushy’s performance. “It didn’t fool anybody. Had the old boy been better versed and had he given a few right answers there would be confusion from now on as to whether the outlaw was killed in 1881 or whether he lived 70 years longer to apply for a pardon.”

  Brushy Bill Roberts, whoever he was, died in Hico, Texas, just short of a month after his interview with the New Mexico governor, but his story refused to go away. Billy the Kid and Brushy Bill returned to the spotlight in April 2003, when Sheriff Tom Sullivan of Lincoln County opened an official investigation (Case No. 2003–274)) to examine the deaths of deputies Bell and Olinger in Lincoln and Pat Garrett’s killing of Billy at Fort Sumner. Sullivan pointed out as his motivation a recent visit to Hico, Texas, where today a museum touts Brushy Bill as the real Billy the Kid, thus contradicting what Sullivan knew of Lincoln County history. Assisted by his friend Deputy Steve Sederwall and the sheriff of DeBaca County, Gary Graves, Sullivan planned to collect DNA from the bodies of Billy the Kid, his mother, Catherine Antrim, Brushy Bill, and other Kid pretenders (Brushy was not alone) and make comparisons. Ultimately, the investigation was just as much about whether or not Pat Garrett had lied as it was about whether the Kid had survived. Sullivan vowed to remove Garrett’s image from the Sheriff’s Department’s shoulder patch if he determined that Billy had not perished at Garrett’s hands.

  Governor Bill Richardson, seeing an excellent opportunity to bring media attention and more tourists to New Mexico, quickly joined the cause, offering state aid and the possibility that he might give Billy the pardon Lew Wallace had promised nearly 125 years earlier. The first news of the investigation generated a media frenzy. The story appeared on the front page of the New York Times and ran in some two thousand newspapers worldwide, and documentary filmmakers soon descended on Lincoln County to explore the “mystery” of Billy the Kid. In 2004, the investigation made the news again when forensic expert Henry Lee, made famous from his role in the O. J. Simpson murder trial, agreed to help with collecting blood samples and doing the DNA analysis.

  The investigation also generated incredible controversy, with some critics arguing that the effort was a waste of time and money and others afraid of the consequences for New Mexico tourism if Billy’s body was not found at Fort Sumner (a good possibility considering a major flood of the Pecos in 1904 and genuine confusion as to Billy’s exact resting place within the cemetery). Sullivan and Sederwall were eventually thwarted in their attempts to exhume Billy, Catherine Antrim, and Brushy Bill, and Sheriff Graves was recalled from office. The investigation did uncover some very intriguing, long-forgotten evidence connected with Billy the Kid, including the original carpenter’s workbench where Billy’s dead body had been placed, complete with human bloodstains. Considerable blood evidence was also revealed at the top of the Lincoln County courthouse stairs through a test using luminol, the same chemical employed in modern police forensic investigations. Unfortunately, the results of the DNA analysis of these blood samples, the DNA extracted from the remains of a Billy pretender, and any other findings of the investigation are currently in limbo. Sullivan and Sederwall, no longer associated with the Lincoln County Sheriff’s Department, say their work was conducted on their own time and at private expense. “We left our badges, and we’ll take our knowledge,” Sederwall explained to the Albuquerque Journal in 2007. The two are currently being sued, along with the present Lincoln County sheriff, to force the release of their investigation’s records. It seems that what started out as a “quest for the truth,” to “set the record straight,” has turned into a fight over just who gets to know that “truth.”

  The irony of all this is that Billy Bonney’s fate is already known. It was known when Brushy Bill appeared in Santa Fe in 1950, just as it was known at Fort Sumner in 1881. Paulita knew. Pete Maxwell knew. Celsa, Deluvina, John Poe, Kip McKinney—they all knew. “He is dead, my friend Billy,” said Florencio Chavez, who rode with the Kid as a Regulator. “Old Silva knows. And I am sure. These stories of another being killed, of the Kid slipping away, they have come with late years. My friend Bill he is dead.”

  NO LESS THAN SIXTY films have been made about Billy the Kid. He has been portrayed by Paul Newman, Kris Kristofferson, Val Kilmer, Emilio Estevez (who has the singular distinction of playing both the Kid and Brushy Bill Roberts), Roy Rogers, and a host of lesser B actors. Hundreds of books have been written about the outlaw, from comics and pulp westerns to works by novelists the likes of Michael Ondaatje, N. Scott Momaday, and Larry McMurtry. Bob Dylan, Billy Joel, and Jon Bon Jovi have written songs about him. Every year, countless tourists from around the world visit his grave at Fort Sumner and navigate Lincoln County’s Billy the Kid National Scenic Byway. Nearly every spot Billy once touched is commemorated with a historic marker.

  No one ever pretended to be Pat Garrett, to have survived the shooting in Alameda Arroyo. There are no Pat Garrett museums, no ballads about the Lincoln County lawman. By 1948, his grave in the Odd Fellows cemetery was neglected and covered with weeds; the family transferred his remains across the street to the Masonic cemetery in 1957. There are no signs on the highway pointing to Garrett’s grave site, and it receives few visitors. Yet while Billy continues to get the glory and the empathy, Pat Garrett will never be forgotten. He remains, for better or worse, what he was at his death in 1908: the man who shot Billy the Kid.

  The Kid and Pat Garrett are forever linked, and rightly so; today, in legend, but historically, in the memories of their friends and enemies. “I knew both these men intimately,” Sallie Chisum told Walter Noble Burns in 1924, “and each made history in his own way. There was good mixed with the bad in Billy the Kid and bad mixed with the good in Pat Garrett. Both were distinctly human, both remarkable personalities. No matter what they did in the world or what the world thought of them, they were my friends. Both were real men. Both were worth knowing.”

  They need no finer epitaph.

  Acknowledgments

  I grew up in the heart of Missouri’s Jesse James country, where I, like other boys my age, could not help but fall in love with the legend of the James and Younger boys (I’m still a little partial to Jesse today). As an adult, I embraced not only the history of my native state, but also the history of the American Southwest. So it seems fitting that I would eventually turn to another iconic outlaw—as well as the famous southwestern lawman who gunned him down. It has been an amazing journey, and I have had much help along the way. I would especially like to thank:

  Marc Simmons, New Mexico’s historian laureate and an exceptionally fine friend and mentor over the decades.

  Robert M. Utley, who introduced me to my literary agent and graciously
provided me with dozens of computer files consisting of his research notes for his excellent books on Billy the Kid and the Lincoln County War.

  Robert G. McCubbin, who welcomed me into his home and gave me unlimited access to his superlative collection of historic photographs, documents, and rare books relating to the American West.

  Ronald Kil, friend, solid westerner, and a damn fine artist. Thanks for letting me practice with your Frontier Six-Shooter.

  Others who provided assistance include John P. and Cheryl Wilson, Las Cruces, New Mexico; Leon C. Metz, El Paso, Texas; Frederick Nolan, Chalfont St. Giles, England; David Dary, Norman, Oklahoma; Durwood Ball, University of New Mexico; J. Randolph Cox, editor, Dime Novel Round-Up; Miles Gilbert, Show Low, Arizona; Elvis E. Fleming, Roswell, New Mexico; Joseph K. Treat, Santa Fe, New Mexico; Janean and C. W. Grissom, Taiban, New Mexico; Dave Woodwell, Las Cruces, New Mexico; Don McCubbin, Centennial, Colorado; Sally Faulkner, Coolidge, Arizona; Paul Andrew Hutton, University of New Mexico; Lynda Sanchez, Lincoln, New Mexico; Mike O’Keefe, Placitas, New Mexico; Elbert A. Garcia, Santa Rosa, New Mexico; Rex Rideout, Conifer, Colorado; Marcus Gottschalk, Las Vegas, New Mexico; Scott O’Malley, Colorado Springs, Colorado; Wade Shipley, Lovington, New Mexico; and the staff and professors of the Southwest Studies Department, Colorado College.

  Those who assisted me at the numerous historic sites and research institutions I visited and corresponded with include John M. Murphy, L. Tom Perry Special Collections Library, BYU; Gwendolyn Rogers and Murray Arrowsmith, Lincoln State Monument; Nancy Sawyer, Arizona State Library, Archives and Public Records; Karen Mills, Historical Records Clerk, Lincoln County Clerk’s Office; Ann Massmann, Donald Burge, and Mike Kelly, Center for Southwest Research, UNM; Jim Bradshaw, Haley Memorial Library and History Center; Tim Blevins and staff, Special Collections, Pikes Peak Library District; the staff of the interlibrary loan department, Pikes Peak Library District; Miriam Syler, Cobb Memorial Archives; Laura K. Hollingsed, Yvette Delgado, and Claudia Rivera, C. L. Sonnichsen Special Collections Department, UTEP; the staff of the Rio Grande Historical Collections, NMSU; Chris Reid, Pinal County Historical Society Museum; Cameron Saffell, Farm and Ranch Heritage Museum; the staff of the New Mexico State Records Center and Archives; Tomas Jaehn, The Fray Angélico Chávez History Library; and Susan Berry, Silver City Museum.

  The long, tedious hours that were spent writing this book were made much more tolerable by four excellent radio stations that broadcast blue-grass, old-time, and classic country music live on the Web. They are WPAQ, Mount Airy, North Carolina; WDVX, Knoxville, Tennessee; KOPN, Columbia, Missouri; and WSM, Nashville, Tennessee.

  I must also make mention of my friend and hunting partner, Andy Morris, who also happens to be one hell of a blacksmith. He constantly asked me about this book as I was researching and writing it and eagerly listened to my numerous discoveries about Garrett and the Kid.

  I thank my cousin David Wayne Gardner, Breckenridge, Missouri, for many pleasant hours spent in pursuit of Missouri wild turkeys each spring, my other passion.

  My in-laws, Jack and Mary Ann Davis, Green Mountain Falls, Colorado, provided important child care services that allowed me to more easily leave home on several research trips.

  I was most fortunate to have parents who had a keen interest in American history. With my two sisters, we visited countless forts, battlefields, historic houses, and museums each summer on our family vacations. So I thank my mom and dad, Claude and Venita Gardner, Breckenridge, Missouri, for turning me into a historian.

  I am also indebted to my many teachers over the years. My high school English teacher, Mrs. Carol A. Cox, Chillicothe, Missouri, never failed to encourage me in my writing. In fact, I may not have become a writer if it had not been for her. At Northwest Missouri State University, I greatly benefited from the teachings of Dr. Harmon Mothershead, Mr. Tom Carneal, Dr. Richard Frucht, and Dr. George Gayler. At the University of Wyoming, I must thank my adviser and professor, Dr. Eric Sandeen, director of the American Studies Program.

  My editor, Henry Ferris, devoted incredible energy and expertise to improving this manuscript. When he was not prodding me about getting to the action, he was telling me how excited he was about this book. He knew exactly what to say and when to say it. I feel extremely fortunate to have had the opportunity to work with him. Others at William Morrow to whom I am grateful include Jean Marie Kelly, senior marketing director; Dee Dee DeBartlo, publicity director; Lynn Grady, deputy publisher; Shawn Nicholls, director of online marketing; Peter Hubbard; and Danny Goldstein, editorial assistant. I would also like to thank my crackerjack copy editor, Laurie McGee.

  My literary agent, Jim Donovan, a fine nonfiction writer in his own right, provided exemplary advice and insights at every stage of this book. If that was not enough, he spent hours copying articles and documents I needed. He’s not only a great agent, he’s a great friend.

  My children, Christiana and Vance, have brought me much joy, and I hope this book will make them proud of their dad, at least someday. I’m certainly proud of them. I’ll especially cherish the memory of the many gun-fights I had with Vance. Sometimes he was Billy the Kid and sometimes he was Pat Garrett, but no matter who played who, we stuck to the script—Billy always died in the end.

  This book was started during very optimistic times and completed during very stressful times. My wife, Katie, lost her job of twenty years as the sole professional curator for the Colorado Springs Pioneers Museum. During those two decades, she contributed greatly to making it an award-winning institution, one of the most respected museums in the region. But when the City of Colorado Springs hit a budget crunch, they let her go without batting an eye. They didn’t deserve her. I probably don’t, either, but she happens to like me for some reason. This book would have been much more difficult to research and write had it not been for her support and enthusiasm. Thank you, Katie. Can’t wait for us to get back out on the road in search of the next historical discovery.

  Mark Lee Gardner

  Cascade, Colorado

  June 8, 2009

  Notes

  It is well known that Ash Upson did most of the writing for Pat Garrett’s The Authentic Life of Billy, the Kid, The Noted Desperado of the Southwest, Whose Deeds of Daring and Blood Made His Name a Terror in New Mexico, Arizona and Northern Mexico. The two must have worked closely together on the manuscript, however, for Upson lived in the Garrett household during the time the book was being written. Unfortunately, the original manuscript has not survived, so it is impossible to say definitively what is purely Upson and what is Garrett, although most scholars tend to agree that the first fifteen chapters, which at times employ a dreadfully melodramatic style typical of the time, are primarily Upson, while the remaining chapters, which are written as a matter-of-fact, first-person narrative, more strongly reflect Garrett’s contribution. To avoid clutter and confusion in my narrative and notes, I consistently refer to Garrett as the author of The Authentic Life of Billy, the Kid.

  1. FACING JUSTICE

  Garrett’s arrival in Las Vegas with his prisoners and subsequent events were well reported by two Las Vegas newspapers, the Daily Optic and the Gazette. The Las Vegas newspaper accounts I have relied upon here and elsewhere in this book are found in Billy the Kid: Las Vegas Newspaper Accounts of His Career, 1880–1881 (Waco, Tex.: W. M. Morrison Books, 1958).

  Billy’s greeting to Dr. Sutfin in front of the Grand View Hotel was recounted by Albert E. Hyde in his “The Old Regime in the Southwest,” Century Magazine 63 (Mar. 1902). Hyde was indeed in Las Vegas at this time, but his version of events is highly romanticized and should be used with caution.

  Garrett’s account of the Las Vegas standoff is included in his The Authentic Life of Billy, the Kid (Santa Fe: New Mexican Printing and Publishing Co., 1882), 114–116.

  Benjamin Miller’s little-known version of the events at the Las Vegas depot is found in his rare Ranch Life in Southern Kansas and the Indian Territory (New York: Fless & Ri
dge Printing Company, 1896).

  Train engineer Dan Daley was interviewed by a newspaper reporter in California in 1927, at which time he provided his memories of the Las Vegas standoff. Daley’s fleeting brush with Billy the Kid, and this particular interview, have been missed by other historians and writers. See “When the Paths of Dan Daley and Billy the Kid Crossed,” The Decatur Review, Decatur, Illinois, Jan. 23, 1927. Daley and his wife are enumerated in the 1880 U.S. Census, living in East Las Vegas. Daley’s occupation is listed as “Engineer on R. Road.”

  Billy’s words to Garrett after the lawman informed his prisoners he would arm them if the mob attacked are exactly as they were remembered by Garrett in his The Authentic Life of Billy, the Kid, 116.

  Miguel Otero’s role in the standoff is much embellished by his son, Miguel Antonio Otero, in the latter’s book My Life on the Frontier, 1864–1882 (1935; reprint ed., Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1987), 213.

  J. Fred Morley’s reminiscences were provided in two letters to James East dated Nov. 29, 1922, and June 29, 1924, transcriptions of which are in the Leon C. Metz Papers (MS 157), Box 16, C. L. Sonnichsen Special Collections Department, University of Texas at El Paso Library. James East gave his account of the Las Vegas standoff in an interview with J. Evetts Haley, Douglas, Arizona, Sept. 27, 1927, J. Evetts Haley Collection, Haley Memorial Library and History Center, Midland, Texas. The Morley and Garrett quotes are from East.