BILLY THE KID'S CAPTURE
We arrived in the beautifully located town of White Oaks on the 23d day
of December, (1880). The town, which consisted of 1000 inhabitants,
mostly American miners, was then not quite two years old and pretty
lively for its age. It contained eight saloons; and Saturday nights when
the boys would come in from the surrounding mountains, to spend the
Sabbath, is when the little burg would put on city airs.
We rented a large log house in the lower end of town and went to living
like white folks. We had no money, but we struck two of the merchants
who gave us an unlimited credit until we could make a raise. Our
greatest expense was feeding the horses corn which cost five cents a
pound and hay, two cents a pound. The grub we ate wasn't very expensive
as we stole all of our meat, and shared with our honest neighbors who
thought it a great sin to kill other people's cattle. You see "Bob" and
I still clung to the old Texas style which is, never kill one of your
own beeves when you can get somebody else's.
We had concluded not to go after the stolen cattle until the rest of the
boys got there, by which time the deep snow would be melted, maybe, so
that we could scour the White Mountains, where the cattle were reported
to be, out thoroughly.
New-Year's night we had a bushel of fun making the citizens think that
"Billy the Kid" had taken the town. Billy was in the habit of "shooting
the town up a lot" every now and then, hence, every time a few dozen
shots were fired at an unusually late hour, they putting it down as
being some of his devilment.
We first sent one of our crowd up-town to the billiard hall, where most
of the men generally congregated, and especially "Pinto Tom," the
marshal, whose maneuvers we were anxious to learn, to watch and see what
kind of an effect our shooting had on the people.
At precisely twelve o'clock we got out with winchesters and
six-shooters, cooks and all, and turned ourselves loose. About one
hundred shots were fired in quick succession. We then went up town to
note the effect.
Arriving at the billiard hall we found old "Uncle Jimmie," our man,
standing in the door laughing fit to kill himself. The hall was empty,
with the exception of a few who were still hid under tables, chairs,
etc. Most of them had gone out of the back door, there being a rough
canyon within a few yards of it leading to the mountains, right at the
marshal's heels. It was said that "Pinto Tom" didn't get in from the
mountains for two days, and when he did come, he swore he had been off
prospecting.
Shortly after New-Years some of our men arrived, bringing the news of
the "Kid's" capture, while the rest, Jim East and Tom Emory had
accompanied Garrett and Stuart to "Vegas" with the prisoners.
Stuart sent a letter by one of the boys, stating that he, East and
Emory, would be in the "Oaks" just as quick as they could get there,
after turning the prisoners over to the authorities in "Vegas."
So, knowing that we were destined to remain around the "Oaks" a week or
two at least, we pulled out in the mountains and camped, so as to save
expenses by letting our horses eat grass instead of hay.
That night, after the boys arrived and after we had moved camp out in
the timber, while seated around a blazing pinyon fire, Lon Chambers who
was a splendid single-handed talker, began relating how they captured
the "Kid," etc., which ran about this way, as near as I can remember:
"After leaving you fellers we caught----. It began snowing that
night, and kept it up for two or three days and nights.
Arriving in Ft. Sumner, Garrett got word that the Kid and outfit
would be in town that night from Los Potales, where the 'Kid's'
ranch or cave was situated, so he secured a house near the road
leading to 'Potales,' to secret his men in. He then kept a man out
doors, on guard, watching the road.
About ten o'clock that night, while we were all inside playing a
five-cent game of poker, the guard opened the door and said,
'Garrett, here comes a crowd down the road!' We all dashed out,
winchesters in hand, and hid behind an adobe fence, close by, which
they would be compelled to pass.
The moon was shining and we could tell who it was, or at least
Garrett and Mason could; they being well acquainted with them.
There was six in the approaching crowd, and thirteen of us.
When they rode up within speaking distance Garrett yelled, 'throw
up your hands!' His voice had hardly died out when thirteen shots
from our nervously gripped winchesters were fired into their midst.
When the smoke cleared off we found that they had all vanished,
with the exception of Tom Ophalliard who was mortally wounded, and
died shortly after. He had several bullet holes through his body.
'These,' pointing down to his feet, 'are his over shoes, and this'
pulling off a finely finished mexican sombraro and displaying it,
"is the hat I pulled from his head before he had quit kicking."
The next morning we struck out on the trail which led back towards
Los Potales. The white snow along the trail was red with blood,
having flowed from the wounds in Rudabaugh's horse. The poor animal
died though after carrying his heavy master through twelve miles of
deep snow.
About midnight we hove in sight of a little rock house standing on
the banks of a small arroyo. The trail led right up to the door
which faced the south. Right near the door stood four shivering
horses.
Knowing we had the little band trapped, we took things cool until
daylight, when we stationed ourselves around the house.
There being no opening in the building except the door, Garrett and
Lee Hall crawled up to the end wall so they could watch the door
from around the corner, while the rest of us concealed ourselves
behind knolls, etc.
We had left our horses behind a hill quite a distance from the
house.
When it became light enough to see, Charlie Bowdre stepped out
doors to see about his horse, but he hadn't more than hit the
ground when two bullets, fired by Garrett and Hall, who were still
at the corner not a dozen feet from the door, sent him to his long
home. He only uttered a few words, which were: 'I wish, I wish,'
before his last breath left him.
Of course that caused a stirring around inside; they knew what it
meant and began making preparations for an escape. The 'Kid' had
his pony inside, out of the cold and the other four--Rudabaugh
having secured another one--were tied to the door frame so that
they could reach the ropes without exposing their bodies. Now
thought they if we can pull three of the horses inside we will
mount and make a bold dash out of the door. But when they got the
first animal about half way into the house Garrett sent a bullet
through its heart. The dead animal of course blocked the way so
that they had to give up that scheme.
They then tried picking port holes through the thick rock walls,
but had to give it up also, as they had nothing to do it with but
their knives and firearms.
The 'Kid' and Garrett finally opened up a conversation. The former
seemed to be in fine humor. Every now and then he would crack some
kind of a joke and then laugh, so that every one of us could hear
him. At one time he asked in a jovial way: 'Garrett, have you got a
fire out there?' 'Yes, a good one!' was the answer. 'Can we come
out and warm if we behave ourselves?' 'Yes,' replied Garrett, 'but
come with your hands up.' 'Oh, you go to h--l, won't you? You old
long-legged s--n of a b----h!'
You see they were without fire, water or provisions, consequently
we had the advantage. We had a good fire out behind one of the
knolls and would take turns about, during the day and coming
night, going to warm.
They held out until next day, when they surrendered, after being
promised protection from mob violence. Kid was the last man to come
out with his hands up. He said he would have starved to death
before surrendering if the rest had stayed with him."
Chambers, after finishing gave a heavy sigh and wondered whether Garrett
and Stuart would act white and whack up the reward evenly among the
whole outfit, or not.
"Bob" and I made arrangements with the boys to loan us their part of the
reward, which would amount to considerable over a hundred dollars
apiece, until we got back to the ranch, to pay our debts with.