Bill’s fortunate escape from death in his fight with the McCandlas gang
at Rock Creek was no more remarkable than one of his fights at Hays
City which occurred in 1870. During this year, the 7th U. S. Cavalry
was stationed at that post, and many of the soldiers, partaking of the
desperate nature which distinguished the place, gave the authorities
great trouble. Bill’s duties as city marshal caused an antagonism
which finally culminated in a most desperate fight with fifteen of
the soldiers, the particulars of which are as follows: On the day in
question, several of the soldiers became very drunk, among them a
large sergeant who had a particular aversion to Bill on account of
his having arrested, at divers times, several of the members of his
company. The sergeant was in Paddy Welch’s saloon with several of his
men, indulging in a noisy carousal. Welch sent for Bill to remove the
crowd, but when he arrived the sergeant insisted on fighting Bill in
the street. He confessed that he was no match for Bill in a duel, but
dared him to meet him in fistic encounter. To this proposition Bill
consented, and taking out his two revolvers he passed them to Welch,
and the two combatants, followed by the crowd inside, stepped out of
the saloon and into the street. Although the sergeant was much the
larger man, he was no equal for Bill, and in a moment after the fight
began the sergeant was knocked down, and Bill was administering to
him a most severe thrashing. The soldiers, fourteen in number, seeing
their sergeant at great disadvantage, and in danger of never getting
back to camp with a sound body, rushed in to his assistance, some with
clubs, and others with stones, seemingly determined to kill Bill. Paddy
Welch was near at hand, and seeing the desperate position he occupied,
ran into the crowd and succeeded in placing the two revolvers in his
hands. In another moment he discharged a shot which killed one of the
soldiers, and would have done more terrible execution but for the crowd
that was on him, which prevented him from using his hands.
When the first soldier fell dead there was a hasty dispersion of the
others, but only to get their pistols, which were near at hand, and to
renew the attack. For a few minutes there was rapid firing, and three
more of the soldiers fell, one of them dead, and the other two mortally
wounded. The odds were too great for Bill, and though he was struck
with seven bullets, he managed to escape from the crowd and get out of
town. Night coming on very soon after the fight was over, enabled Bill
to cross Smoky river and secrete himself several miles from the town,
where he remained lying in a buffalo wallow for two days, caring for
his wounds. He was hit three times in the arms, once in the side and
three times in the legs. None of the wounds were serious, but he was
compelled to tear up his shirt and drawers for bandages to stop the
flow of blood.
On the following day after the fight, Gen. Sheridan ordered a
detachment of cavalry to go in pursuit of Bill, and, using his own
words, “to take him dead or alive,” but, although the pursuit was
entered into earnestly, they never found the object of their search.
After getting able to travel, which was on the third day, Bill managed
to drag his sore and hungry body down to Bill Williams’ ranche, where
he was tenderly cared for. No one can imagine the suffering he endured
during the two days he lay in the buffalo wallow. His wounds, though
but flesh injuries, gave him excruciating pain. He drew his boots,
which were filled with blood, and was unable to put them on again. He
lost his hat during the fight, and, after tearing up his underclothes,
he literally had no protection from the chill and damp of the night.
When he attempted to rise from the ground, the agony he suffered was as
intense as mortal could bear; but notwithstanding the pain he endured,
the excessive hunger which began to oppress and weaken him, compelled
him to make the effort to reach Williams’ ranche, which he succeeded in
doing, as before stated.
After remaining at the ranche a few days, Bill sent for his friend
Whitney, then sheriff of Ellsworth county, he having succeeded Capt.
Kingsbury, and by him Bill was taken to Ellsworth. But the constant
dread of detection made it advisable for Bill to leave Ellsworth,
which he did in a few days, by the kindly assistance of Jim Bomon, a
conductor of a freight train on the Kansas Pacific railroad, who locked
him in a box car and brought him to Junction City. At this place Bill
received proper surgical attention and soon recovered.