We have now described nearly all the adventures in which Wild Bill
was a participant, but before closing this very brief and unvarnished
recital of his life, it is eminently proper to speak of him in his
private and social relations; his peculiar beliefs; his feats of
marksmanship, and his companion in many vicissitudes--the dearest of
all his friends--Black Nell.
As mentioned in a previous chapter, Wild Bill was a fatalist--at least
he believed that he was predestined to be killed. In fact, it would
appear from his oft-repeated assertion, that “he would die with his
boots on,” that he brooded over this belief and was frequently attacked
by melancholy superinduced by that impression.
The very few intimate friends Bill had were well acquainted with
his peculiar belief in spiritualism. He claimed to be clairavoyant,
especially when danger threatened, and the many narrow escapes he had
gave some evidences of the reality of his spiritual sight, but the
manner in which he met his death furnishes a _contra_ proof.
It was only at rare intervals he could be induced to talk of his
terrible conflicts, and even when he was in the most communicative
mood, the particulars of his encounters had to be extracted by the most
patient and persistent endeavors.
Dr. Thorne and Capt. Kingsbury, the two gentlemen previously referred
to, enjoyed the most confidential relations with Wild Bill. Kingsbury
was a captain in the Second United States cavalry at the time Bill was
acting as guide for that regiment, and, as the two were acquainted
many years before, their intimacy became much greater during this
companionship in the service. Dr. Thorne was Bill’s physician, and
divided his purse with him many times when Bill was in pecuniary
straits. Bill was a frequent visitor to Dr. Thorne’s house, and there
were few secrets that he kept from his physician friend.
During one of the conversations had with Dr. Thorne, Wild Bill
asseverated that in all his fights he was surrounded by spirits, who
kept him cool and collected while they made fools of his enemies. It
was to their presence on trying occasions that he gave the credit for
the nerve and fearlessness he displayed.
His character, in some respects, was enigmatical. While rarely evading
a fight, yet he was always sorry for its consequences. After his great
fight with the McCandlas gang, at Rock Creek, he sought and found
Jim McCandlas’ widow, and, finding that she was almost destitute, he
contributed to her support several years and until her death. Dr.
Thorne had removed eleven bullets from Bill’s body, nearly all of which
had been received in the Rock Creek fight, but while enduring the pain
consequent upon their extraction, he had nothing but kind feelings
towards those who shot him. He had seven bullets in various parts of
his body at the time of his death.
His conclusions were always logical, and his manner of conversation
most convincing. He was a listener rather than a talker, and his
answers to inquiries were usually made in conclusive gestures. He loved
the society of the refined, and attributed his difficulties solely to
the associations he was, in a measure, compelled to keep.
His love for children was almost a mania, and it is said that the
most timid and cross infant would leave its mother’s arms for him at
first sight, and at once manifest its pleasure. Another peculiarity he
possessed was the serenity of his countenance during danger. In the
midst of his most desperate fights there was a smile constantly playing
on his lips. His wide range of travel had thoroughly familiarized him
with almost every stretch of territory between Hudson’s Bay and Mexico,
and from the Saskatchewan to Texas. It was impossible to lose him, as
the points of the compass came to him as naturally as to a migratory
bird.