American History Tellers - Billy the Kid | The Lincoln County War | 2

Episode Date: January 19, 2022

In 1877, Billy the Kid was saved from a life of crime by a wealthy Englishman named John Tunstall, who saw potential in the teenage outlaw. Soon, however, Billy was drawn into a vicious war between Tunstall and a rival cattle baron, one that would force him to return to his gunslinging ways.When Tunstall himself was murdered in the escalating Lincoln County War, Billy swore he would get revenge. The violence that followed was shocking even by the standards of the Wild West. The Kid would become a major player in the bloodshed, made infamous by newspapers throughout the country. Ultimately, it would force him to once again flee from the law – and set him on a path towards a showdown with his arch enemy, the ruthless Jimmy Dolan.Listen ad free with Wondery+. Join Wondery+ for exclusives, binges, early access, and ad free listening. Available in the Wondery App. https://wondery.app.link/historytellersPlease support us by supporting our sponsors!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge new seasons of American History Tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Imagine it's December 1877 in the town of Lincoln in New Mexico Territory. It's a chilly morning under a pale winter sun. Whoa, whoa. You've just arrived at the Lincoln Jail for a meeting with a prisoner who stole two of your prized horses. You thought once they caught the young thief that that would be the end of it. But then you received an urgent request from the prisoner to meet you.

He said he could help you with some information. You're not sure what to make of this situation, but there's a lot that's new and unusual to you in New Mexico. You're a wealthy Englishman who arrived here barely a year ago with plans to create a livestock empire. You're interested in gaining any advantage you can, and maybe this young thief has something. You pass a guard armed with a shotgun and walk up to the bars to get a good look at the horse rustler. So, you're Kid Antrim? Yes, sir, I am, and I'm much obliged to you for taking the time to see me. He's polite, a surprise in these parts. You look him up and down. Kid is certainly a fitting nickname. He's rail-thin, with buck teeth that give him a permanently childlike expression. You almost feel sorry for him, languishing in this filthy prison cell.

Well, kid, what is it you want? I know you got no reason to look upon me favorably. After all, I did steal your horses. But I'd be grateful if you could let me off the hook? Now, why would I want to do that? Well, sir, I fell in with some bad fellows. Jimmy Dolan's outfit, the boys. They just put me on the wrong path, you might say. I know they're trying to drive you out of business. I know how they operate. I could fill you in on that, if it might be helpful. You know all about this outlaw gang that call themselves the boys,

and their boss, Jimmy Dolan, the top cattle baron in the county. He's a ruthless bastard, and your arch rival. If this kid really has information about them, maybe he could be abused to you. But you're still not quite convinced. But why should I trust you, after you stole my horses? Because if you drop the charges and let me walk free, I'll be forever in your debt. Besides, you have to admit, I took fine care of your horses. Didn't they come back to you good as new? You can't help but smile at that. There's no denying that this kid has a certain sincere charm.

He's smart, too. And you've heard he's good with a pistol. I tell you what, I'm willing to do as you request on one condition. The kid's face brightens like it's Christmas morning. Anything you say, sir, you come and work for me. I'll provide you with a horse, a saddle, and a gun. The kid breaks into a buck-toothed grin a mile wide and thrusts his hand out between the bars. You got yourself a new man, sir. God bless you. The two of you shake hands. You can sense that Kid Antrim's gratitude is sincere and that you've made the right move in forgiving him. You'll need boys like him to stand any chance

at challenging Dolan's ruthless gang and establishing your own empire in this lawless frontier. From the team behind American History Tellers Tabitha Brown. Tony Hawk. Oh, my God. Buy it now. Stream free on Freeview and Prime Video. From the team behind American History Tellers comes a new book, The Hidden History of the White House. Each chapter will bring you inside the fierce power struggles, intimate moments, and shocking scandals that shaped our nation. From the War of 1812 to Watergate. Available now wherever you get your books. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history. Your story. John Tunstall was locked in a bitter feud when he first met Billy the Kid in a cold jail cell in Lincoln County.

Tunstall saw potential in the young, eager horse thief, and he thought the kid's knowledge of his rival, Jimmy Dolan, might help him gain the upper hand in the corrupt livestock business. Billy the Kid, known then as Kid Antrim, was seeking to make a fresh start. But the explosive events in New Mexico Territory would make him an unwitting criminal celebrity and, ultimately, a legend. This is Episode 2 of our three-part series on Billy the Kid, The Lincoln County War. John Tunstall was just 23 years old when he arrived in New Mexico Territory in November of 1876. He was an ambitious English dandy with a dream of fast profits in the cattle and mercantile business on the western frontier. Tunstall was

raised in London in an upper-middle-class family. His father was an established merchant who reluctantly bankrolled his son's pursuits in North America. Tunstall traveled from London to British Columbia and then to California before landing in New Mexico. He settled in Lincoln County, drawn by its loose regulations and abundant land. In the late 1870s, Lincoln County was the largest in the nation, covering some 30,000 square miles, about two-thirds the size of England. It was remote and sparsely populated, with only about 2,000 inhabitants, a mix of Apaches, Mexicans, and Anglos. The fertile region was half-mountainous and half-plains and valleys, Mexicans, and Anglos. The fertile region was half mountainous and half plains and valleys, used mainly for farming and cattle.

But Tunstall quickly discovered that this pristine landscape was riven by corruption. He wrote to his father in April of 1877, Everything in New Mexico is worked by a ring. There's the Indian ring, the army ring, the cattle ring, the horse thieves ring, and a half-dozen other rings. It is necessary to either get into a ring or to make one for yourself. It was an astute and accurate reading of the culture, but Tunstall underestimated the challenges of carving his own business in New Mexico. He could be as conniving as the next

ambitious local, but his opponents were more ruthless than he could have imagined. Tunstall joined forces with Lincoln's sole lawyer, an Irish-Canadian named Alexander McSween. Like Tunstall, McSween was driven and ambitious. But he was not a violent man, which set him apart in Lincoln County, where violence was the main currency of almost every transaction. McSween was also well aware of who they were up against, the economic overlord of the county, Lawrence Murphy. Murphy was McSween's former employer, and his power in Lincoln County was pervasive. His company, known as the House, controlled local politics and economics. The House also maintained the biggest mercantile store in the county, as well as a saloon, a restaurant, and a brewery. Murphy's

right-hand man was a fellow Irishman, Jimmy Dolan. Dolan was fond of whiskey, guns, and violence. He was also a shrewd and dishonest businessman, intent on expanding the reach of the house. And soon he would take over the whole operation. In the late 1870s, his boss, Murphy, slowly succumbed to bowel cancer, self-medicating himself into a round-the-clock alcoholic fog. Dolan's role grew substantially as Murphy withered away. And under Dolan's watch, the house's monopoly blossomed. Dolan's ring was behind virtually every business deal in the county, allowing him to overcharge customers and keep them in chronic debt.

Dolan also pulled strings in territorial politics, maintaining strong and influential connections in Santa Fe. The house's power was so ingrained and intimidating that few dared to oppose it. A local saying went, If you liked breathing, you didn't get in Dolan's way. This was the scenario that Tunstall and McSween stepped into. But they were not small-time entrepreneurs to be ignored. Tunstall was determined to become a powerful cattle magnate.

He was confident and, most importantly, well-funded. Quickly, he drew the attention of Dolan and the House, topping their list of enemies. McSween was a savvy attorney, and thanks to his tenure with Murphy, well-versed in the machinations of the House. Together they posed the only real threat to Dolan's grip on power, and Dolan was bent on eradicating any and all threats to his kingdom. The main lawman of Lincoln County was Sheriff William Brady. He was supposed to keep the peace, but he was on Dolan's payroll and yet another member of the House's Irish brethren. His allegiance to Dolan led him to be very soft when dealing with infractions the House was accused of, but very hard when meeting out justice to Dolan's rivals. In mid-1877, Tunstall opened up a general store and banking operation just down the street from Dolan's mercantile business

in the town of Lincoln, the county seat. Tunstall's bold move directly threatened the house. And it wasn't just the brazen proximity. Tunstall's store was a quick success, siphoning off a significant portion of Dolan's profits. For the house, Tunstall's new competition could not be ignored. To help protect his business, Tunstall hired a new gun. The youngster known as Kid Antrim was a former desperado, recently released from jail thanks to Tunstall's benevolence. The Kid felt deeply indebted to the Englishman and became one of his most devoted henchmen. And to mark his new beginning as Tunstall's man, Kid Antrim dropped his former name Henry and took on the new one,

William H. Bonney, or Billy for short. Men hired on by Tunstall and Dolan were expected to use their guns when necessary. They were well paid, and the occasional killing went along with the job. Though he had yet to perform such duties, Billy was happy to do whatever was asked of him. He was well-liked among Tunstall's men and made friends among the rough crowd with ease. Off-duty, Billy attended local dances, where his reputation grew as a ladies' man. He was fluent in Spanish and became friendly with many local Hispanics, too, especially in the small Latino community of San Patricio.

For Billy, things finally seemed to be turning around. He was 18, gainfully employed, and treated with respect. Of course, there was trouble now and again, but in the Wild West, that went with the territory. But in December of 1877, big trouble came to Tunstall's camp. Dolan and his allies had successfully pressed for an embezzlement case to be brought against McSween. An arrest warrant was issued, and McSween was picked up by Sheriff Brady, but released on bail. A month later, Dolan took another shot, this time filing a drummed-up civil suit against Tunstall and McSween. A writ of attachment was issued, allowing the seizure of the belongings of both men. Sheriff Brady happily enforced the writ, confiscating Tunstall and McSween's

livestock, goods, and property. But Tunstall managed to hang on to a small herd of horses, which he and a handful of his men, Billy Bonney among them, tried to move from his ranch to a safer location into the village of Lincoln.

But a posse led by Jimmy Dolan was close behind, arriving at Tunstall's ranch to confiscate the remaining horses. Finding that Tunstall and his men had already left for town, Dolan ordered his cattle manager, Billy Buck Morton, to hunt them down. Morton was the man for the job. He was notoriously tough, accompanied by a team of thugs for whom killing was all in a day's work. It's dusk on February 18, 1878. You're in the hills near the Tunstall Ranch, sent on an errand to impose the will of your boss, Jimmy Dolan. You're in a mood

for violence, which is exactly what Dolan wants. But it's all above board. Sheriff Brady has officially deputized all 20 men in your posse. As you crest a hill, you see a single rider a few hundred yards ahead. He's leading nine horses. Hurry up, boys. My knife's sharp. I feel like scalping someone. Remember, we're lawmen. Getting closer, you see it's John Tunstall himself. The man is dressed to the nines as usual. You realize that he's only alone because two of his men fled at your approach. You can see them climbing a craggy hill a few hundred yards behind him, yelling at their boss to follow them. You can hear fear in their voices, and that makes you smile. You ride closer to Tunstall. Tunstall, give yourself up and hand over those horses.

Tunstall looks confused, but not frightened. By what right do you make such a demand? A word for Jimmy Dolan. And I got legal papers that say I can claim them. Tunstall's only response is to ride closer to you. He looks like he's about to ask a question. Before he can say anything else, you level your shotgun in his chest and pull the trigger.

Impact knocks Tunstall clean out of his saddle. He's on the ground, writhing in pain as your man Tom Hill rides up. You give him a nod. Hill leaps down from his horse, gun drawn. He strides quickly to Tunstall and aims at his head. Then Hill turns, fires again, into Tunstall's horse. Thank you, Tom. Now, round up those horses. We're done here.

You spur your horse and ride toward Lincoln under a rising full moon. Your boys whoop as they ride behind you. You're looking forward to a stiff drink at the local saloon to celebrate another job well done in the name of the house. On a February evening in 1878, Billy Bonney was riding some 500 yards behind Tunstall in his herd of horses when Dolan's men approached and shot his boss in the chest. Billy heard the shots and spurred his horse wildly forward. When he arrived at the bloody scene, he was stunned.

Even in a world of violence, this was shocking. His feelings for Tunstall ran deep. To see him lying there in the dirt, completely unarmed, riddled by buckshot, and with a hole between his eyes, was devastating.

Billy had not been so affected by a death since his mother's passing four years ago. Remaining loyal to Tunstall, Billy and the rest of the men, under the cover of night, finished the journey to Lincoln. They brought with them a few horses and the news of Tunstall's murder, which quickly sent shockwaves throughout the county. Conflict had been brewing for months between Dolan and Tunstall. Threats, beatings, and cattle theft happened regularly, but this brazen killing raised the stakes. Tunstall's death marked the beginning of the Lincoln County War.

The next move was anybody's guess, but retaliation seemed inevitable. Tunstall's body arrived in Lincoln the following morning, strapped to the back of a horse. He was laid out in the parlor with his partner, Alexander McSween. A parade of stunned locals came to pay their respects, filing slowly past. Billy Bonnie was part of the line, gripping his battered sombrero, approaching the remains of the man who had changed his life. Under Tunstall's tutelage, Billy had been trying to live a more honest life.

But now, in the wake of this outrage, that path no longer seemed possible. Billy stared down at John Tunstall's corpse and uttered a vow. He would get his revenge. In November 1991, media tycoon Robert Maxwell mysteriously vanished from his luxury yacht in the Canary Islands. But it wasn't just his body that would come to the surface in the days that followed. It soon emerged that Robert's business was on the brink of collapse, and behind his facade of wealth and success was a litany of bad investments, mounting debt, and multi-million dollar fraud. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondery Show Business Movers.

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watching, nobody going to report it, people will get away with what they can get away with. In the Pitcairn trials I'll be uncovering a story of abuse and the fight for justice that has brought a unique, lonely Pacific island to the brink of extinction. Listen to the Pitcairn Trials exclusively on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. The fate of Billy Bonnie took a dramatic turn after the death of his boss, John Tunstall, in February of 1878. He became fixated on revenge for the brutal killing of the man who had treated him with more kindness and respect than anyone. In Billy's mind, vengeance for Tunstall's murder was a righteous mission, and Billy had murdered before.

For Tunstall, he could do it again. This was a far cry from the attitude of Alexander McSween, who now headed up the business he had shared with his now-dead partner. McSween never carried a weapon, and he couldn't stand violence. He was more comfortable in the realm of legal maneuvering, an arena in which he could be as formidable as any gunslinger. But now McSween found himself leading 50 armed men, all primed for war with Jimmy Dolan and his gang of desperados. And it was this group that gathered at McSween's home to decide on the right response to their boss's violent death. Most of the men had strong anti-Dolan feelings and had no problem pulling a trigger. Many were sick of the power that Dolan and the house exerted over their everyday lives through their control of the

district attorney and Sheriff Brady. It was no secret that Sheriff Brady was on Dolan's payroll and that he had deputized the men who killed Tunstall. And if such a violent end could happen to a wealthy, powerful man like Tunstall, it could happen to anyone. But McSween managed to convince his crew to hold off on gunplay. Instead, he took Billy and two others to the County Justice of the Peace, Squire John B. Wilson. Wilson was an affable, aging man not known for his competence. He was easily persuaded to do almost anything. So at McSween's behest, Wilson swore out affidavits

naming members of Dolan's gang as the killers. The justice also deputized Billy and McSween's other men. McSween's was able to get arrest warrants, including a warrant for Sheriff Brady himself on the charge of larceny. Brady had taken control of Tunstall's store based on a writ of attachment, but he was also giving away the store's hay to Dolan's crew, which he had no right to do. McSween seemed determined to keep the fighting in the courts where he was best. On February 20th, two days after Tunstall's murder,

Billy and two others rode into Dolan's store with the warrants. They'd been newly deputized by Squire Wilson, but that meant little to Sheriff Brady. He greeted them with guns drawn. He didn't take kindly to their attempt to arrest him or anyone else. And after a heated exchange of words, Brady arrested Billy on the catch-all charge of resisting a sheriff. Billy spent the next 30 hours stewing in the Lincoln jail.

While he was there, Tunstall was laid to rest in a well-attended funeral that drew both Anglos and Hispanics. Tunstall had been considered by many non-white residents of Lincoln County to be a fair-minded alternative to Dolan. His store in Lincoln, unlike Dolan's, did not discriminate. So sitting alone in the dank, dark cell, Billy could only make out snatches of the eulogy, delivered in both English and Spanish.

As the ceremony wore on, the mournful chord from a small pump organ drifted into the jail. Being kept from paying his respects only strengthened Billy's resolve to avenge Tunstall's death. Immediately following Billy's arrest, McSween feared for the safety of himself and his family.

He had tried to use the law to punish Tunstall's killers, but it had backfired, leading to Billy's imprisonment and emboldening Sheriff Brady. McSween wrote up a hasty will and left Lincoln to hide out in a mountain cabin, leaving Tunstall's foreman, Dick Brewer, in charge. Brewer could hold his own. He'd left his home state of Wisconsin to heal a broken heart in the solitary world of the West and liked to numb himself with hard work from sunrise to sundown. Tunstall was one of his few friends. And while Brewer was a slow man to anger, he was angry now. Soon after Tunstall's funeral, Brewer went to the Lincoln Justice of the Peace

and had himself commissioned special constable with the ability to arrest Tunstall's murderers. Then he set out to recruit a posse. One of the first to step up was Billy Bonney, fresh out of his short stint in the Lincoln jail. The rough-and-ready contingent he joined would expand to almost sixty. They were local ranchers, cowboys, and laborers, all fully capable of being as vicious as anyone among Dolan's ranks. Yet to a man they considered themselves to be acting on the side of justice. They called themselves the Lincoln County Regulators. By March 1878, just one month after John Tunstall's murder, they were making regular sweeps throughout the county on a hunt for Dolan's men. Buck Morton, the man who had

emptied his shotgun into Tunstall's chest, was at the top of their wanted list. On March 6th, the regulators found him. Morton and two other Dolan henchmen were riding near the Pecos River. They were caught by surprise and fled at full gallop. Billy Bonney led the pursuit. The two sides traded over a hundred rounds before Billy and his men arrested Morton and the others. They told the wounded prisoners that they'd be delivered to Sheriff Brady back in Lincoln, but Morton knew better. He and his men might make it back to town, but not alive.

And he was right. The regulators performed a quick execution by pistol. As Morton lay dead on the hard ground in a patch of scrub oak, Billy walked over to the bullet-riddled body and adjusted Morton's head with his boot. He leaned over and looked into the man's face for what seemed like a good long while, then he spat on the ground and walked away. Word of the attack would spread like wildfire, prompting a visit from a powerful Dolan ally, the governor of New Mexico, Samuel Axtell.

Axtell would act quickly to ensure that the regulators were not seen as righteous deputies of the law, but branded as violent criminals. Imagine it's March 9, 1878, in the town of Lincoln, New Mexico. You're an older, white-haired gentleman who's been around the territory for years. Currently, you're the Justice of the Peace for Lincoln County, which makes you the only legal authority other than Sheriff Brady. And it's not an easy job. Around these parts, it's often hard to tell who's on the right side of the law, but you've always done your best to muddle through. Governor Samuel Axtell is paying you a visit at your home today, coming in from Santa Fe, and you're dreading his arrival. He's a staunch supporter of Jimmy Dolan, which means he won't look favorably on some of your recent actions to aid Dolan's rival, Alexander McSween.

Come in. Axtell breezes into your study in a dark suit with a neatly knotted bow tie. You barely have time to shake his hand before he pulls out a pocket watch and eyes it impatiently. Good day, sir. I'm only here in Lincoln for three hours, so not much time to clean up the mess you've created. I'll get right to the point. You nod and offer a tepid smile. He doesn't smile back. On February 19th, Alexander McSween asks you to swear out affidavits charging James Dolan and his posse with the murder of John Tunstall. Yes, Governor, that's correct.

But in addition to that, you commissioned McSween's man, Richard Brewer, as a special constable, deputized his posse, the regulators as they call themselves. And then, as if you hadn't caused enough trouble, you wrote out an arrest warrant for Sheriff Brady. Yes, that's all true, but I can explain. You see, Mr. McSween said the sheriff had been taking hay from the Tunstall store. Mr. McSween said that that was larceny, so I wrote out a warrant. Hack still glares at you. He's a stern, imperious man with a sharp nose and dark, beady eyes, both of which glare with contempt. Am I to believe that you do whatever McSween commands? No, I'm sorry, Governor.

It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But if there's anything I can do to rectify the situation, you've done quite enough, sir, and you won't be doing anything else. I'm issuing a proclamation relieving you of your duty as Justice of the Peace. You stare at the Governor slack-jawed. I don't understand. On what grounds? You were appointed by the county commissioners. According to the territorial constitution, a justice of the peace must be elected. Therefore,

you've never had any legal authority to do the things you've done. But all my decisions were in good faith. Even if they didn't have authority behind them, they were the right things to do. Right or wrong doesn't matter much. They were illegal. You didn't have the authority to charge James Dolan. You didn't have the authority to charge Sheriff Brady. And you didn't have the authority to deputize the regulators. It's illegal for them to represent themselves as officers of the law. They shall be prosecuted if they do so. The governor glances again at his pocket watch and spins on his heels.

I must be off to my next appointment. Good day to you, sir. In a daze, you pour a tall shot of whiskey and gulp it down. You're uncertain about the governor's legal right to revoke your title and your actions with McSween's men, but you don't have the stomach to fight him over it. You do know one thing for certain. Axtell's proclamation will place McSween and his regulators firmly outside the law, but that will hardly stop them. You pour another drink and shake your head slowly. As bad as things are in Lincoln County, they're about to get worse. In March of 1878, Governor Samuel Axtell revoked the authority of Lincoln County's

Justice of the Peace, Squire John B. Wilson. That meant Dick Brewer's status as a special constable was no longer in effect, and Billy Bonney and the other regulators were no longer deputized. Forced to operate outside the bounds of the law, they went into hiding, and their violent exchanges with Dolan's men grew more sporadic. For Sheriff William Brady, Axtell's intervention was a major victory. So on the morning of April Fool's Day, 1878, he was in a good mood,

enjoying a full breakfast at Wortley's Hotel in Lincoln, just across from his office. In his pocket, he carried an arrest warrant for Alexander McSween on a months-old embezzlement charge. McSween was still in hiding, but Brady was willing to bide his time. As far as Brady was concerned, McSween, Billy Bonney, and the rest of the gang were no longer a threat.

He had received reports that Bonney was hunkered down in the small Hispanic community of San Patricio, some seven miles from Lincoln. The town constable there, Jose Chavez y Chavez, was a fierce supporter of the regulators, and Billy was known to love the place. But Sheriff Brady was wrong. Billy and the regulators were not in San Patricio. They were in Lincoln, setting up an ambush. Brady left the hotel and met up with four of his deputies, then walked east down Main Street past Tunstall's store. Suddenly, the quiet morning exploded with gunfire. From behind

a wall in Tunstall's corral, Billy and six regulators fired until the lawmen were either bleeding on the ground or scattered for cover. Brady didn't have a chance to run. He lay in the dirt, taken down by several bullets. It was uncertain who fired the kill shot, but Billy was the first to approach the body. He ran out to grab McSween's arrest warrant from Brady's jacket, but a volley from a deputy hit him in the leg. Billy limped to his horse,

and then he and the other regulators galloped out of town, leading Brady for the undertaker. As far as Billy and his crew were concerned, they'd done a good thing. It was revenge against the sheriff who had sanctioned the killing of Tunstall. The fact that the governor had declared their hunt illegal was of no consequence to them. But the ambush and slaying of a veteran lawman in broad daylight was hard for the public to swallow. Even those with no allegiance to Dolan condemned the bloody attack. Many people felt the event was no different than Tunstall's murder.

They began to question the regulator's righteous underdog status. Billy's reputation took the biggest hit. Newspapers singled out him as the man responsible for Brady's killing. Billy Bonney's world was starting to close in on him. Dolan's men would no doubt take out their revenge, and Billy would not be forgiven, not by the house, not by the public, not by the law. How did Birkenstocks go from a German cobbler's passion project 250 years ago to the Barbie movie today? Who created that bottle of red Sriracha with a green top that's permanently living in We'll be right back. Jack. And we've covered over a thousand episodes of pop business news stories on our daily podcast.

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In the days after the Sheriff Brady ambush, Billy Bonney became one of the nation's most notorious outlaws. The heated war in Lincoln County was getting coverage in newspapers as far away as Europe. Readers became engrossed in the outrageous, titillating accounts of the American Wild West. Closer to home in Washington, D.C., the conflict even drew the attention of President Rutherford B. Hayes. Alexander McSween had connections on Capitol Hill, and he had flooded them with letters detailing the corruption and mayhem taking place in Lincoln County. McSween frequently mentioned Governor Axtell by name,

accusing him of favoritism, unethical deals, and shady practices. And the murder of Tunstall, a British citizen, made the violence in New Mexico an international issue. The British ambassador expressed outrage to President Hayes over the killing. Meanwhile, curious travelers were starting to flood Lincoln County, hoping to catch a glimpse of its notorious gunslingers firsthand. Authorities knew something had to be done to restore the community's reputation. So Lincoln County commissioners set a bounty of $200 on the head of any regulator, dead or alive. Everybody knew that dead was a considerably easier way to earn that reward. Billy and his crew fled to San Patricio to recover. There, the regulator's leader,

Dick Brewer, recruited a handful of loyal Hispanics to join their ranks. The young Latinos were happy to fight against Dolan and the House, a notoriously prejudiced outfit. So with fresh recruits and increased numbers, the Regulators continued their quest to kill anyone involved with John Tunstall's shooting. But for Dick Brewer, the manhunt was about to take a decisive turn. Andrew Buckshot Roberts was high on the Regulator hit list. He was part of the crew that had ambushed Tunstall, and on the afternoon of April 4, 1878, the regulators caught up with him at a small outpost on the Mescalero Apache Reservation,

known as Blazer's Mill. The encounter surprised all parties, and a fierce gun battle ensued. Brewer was shooting from behind a log pile. Roberts drew a bead on Brewer's hat and pulled the trigger, which was the end of Dick Brewer was shooting from behind a log pile. Roberts drew a bead on Brewer's hat and pulled the trigger, which was the end of Dick Brewer. Billy then shot and killed Roberts. Brewer and Roberts were buried there, side by side. Billy was enraged over Brewer's death, but he had even more bad news coming.

On April 14, 1878, a Lincoln County grand jury indicted him and two other regulators for the murder of Sheriff William Brady. The jury also indicted some of Dolan's men for the Tunstall shooting, but the legal moves did nothing to dampen both sides' enthusiasm for bloody vengeance. Skirmishes and shooting battles continued, and the citizens of Lincoln County found themselves caught in the crossfire. Dolan was known to force locals to provide food and shelter, and often demanded they join his ranks at gunpoint. County residents were sick of the extortion and violence. But no one in power seemed willing or able to stop it,

until a powerful New Mexico businessman stepped in. Thomas Boss Catron was the most feared man in the territory. He was the U.S. attorney for New Mexico and the financial backer of Dolan and the House. Catron had 2,000 head of cattle roaming the county plains, which were now engulfed in random, unpredictable violence. He demanded that Governor Axtell call in the U.S. Cavalry to be led locally by Lieutenant Colonel Nathan A.M. Dudley, an arrogant, liquor-loving Dolan sympathizer. Axtell complied. With federal forces now involved, President Hayes sent a special agent from the Justice Department to

assess the Lincoln County debacle. The agent was given little support locally, but managed to take deposition from most of the leaders of both sides, including McSween, Billy, and Dolan. His findings revealed the lawless conditions overwhelming the county and Governor Axtell's highly questionable allegiances. The agent accused Axtell's administration of being marked by corruption, fraud, mismanagement, plots, and murder. The Justice Department report led to the removal of both Governor Axtell and the Pro Dolan District Attorney. Colonel Dudley and his cavalry were ordered to stand down too. But the war continued, with lootings, raids, and shootings by both sides. But as it raged on, Billy was growing weary of life as a fugitive. And McSween, never a violent man, was reaching

the end of his ability to cope with the unbridled warfare. Both were ready for a final showdown with Dolan to end it all. The regulators established heavily fortified defense posts throughout Lincoln. Dolan's forces followed suit. Lincoln locals made themselves scarce. Billy, McSween, and 14 other men barricaded themselves in McSween's home. Both sides waited. Then at nightfall, on July 14, 1878, the shooting began. Volleys ebbed and raged for the next four days

in a grinding standoff. Food and water were in short supply on both sides. But a truce was unthinkable. Something had to give. Imagine the sun is setting on July 19, 1878 in Lincoln. You're a 41-year-old attorney and one of the leaders of the regulators. Though you abhor violence, you've gone to war with Jimmy Dolan and his ruthless thugs. Now, after months of bloodshed, you're barricaded in your small home with one of your most loyal regulators, Billy Bonney. You glance out a window, trying to get a read on your attackers. It looks like cavalry out there. You can see soldiers in

uniform, lining up heavy artillery outside. You know it's Lieutenant Colonel Dudley, a close ally of Dolan's. And just as you feared, he's ignoring orders from Washington to stay out of the conflict. He's now got a deadly howitzer cannon trained on your house. Billy catches your gaze and frowns. You smell smoke? Oh God, they've lit the place on fire. And sure enough, fire is fast engulfing the place, room by room, working its way toward where you and Billy lie huddled on the floor. You're at your wit's end, but Billy must have ice in his veins.

He calmly waved through you to follow him. Alright, come on. We gotta move to the kitchen. It's the only room that's not on fire. You try crawling to the kitchen, but it's no use. Flames block your path. The only way left out of this room is the front door. And you know that's suicide.

Dolan's men will gun you down as soon as you step outside. Billy, I don't think we can make it. But Billy grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you, snapping you out of your panic. Listen to me. We've still got a chance. We've just got to make a run for it. What the? Cut us down like rats. We're done for. No, we can make it. I'll go out first and draw their fire.

While they're trying to hit me, you get out of here. It's dark enough now. They'll never see you. I don't know, Billy. Maybe we should just surrender. If we come out with our hands up, they'll kill us for sure. You know that. Come on, this is the only chance we've got. Beat's getting roasted to death. You nod at him, wide-eyed. With the fire blazing only a few feet away, it's not a hard decision to make. Billy dashes out the door,

silhouetted by the flames. There's a hail of gunfire. It's impossible to tell if Billy made it, but it does seem like he's drawing their fire away from the door. You know you have to move quickly to have any chance, but you hesitate. Then you choke in a final deep breath and force yourself to charge out the door. You have no idea if you're running for your life or toward your death.

On the night of July 19th, 1878, McSween escaped his burning house, only to be shot dead by Dudley's troops. Billy made it out safely and disappeared into the woods. The siege at McSween's house was part of a larger battle that became known by two names in the press, the Five Day War and the Big Killing. It marked the end of the Lincoln County War, but amidst the carnage and destruction, there was no clear victor. By early September, President Hayes officially removed Governor Samuel Axtell from office and appointed a replacement. The new governor wanted the war forgotten and wasted no time

granting amnesty to all participants. But amnesty did not cover those still wanted for past crimes, and that included Billy Bonney. Billy emerged from the Lincoln County War as a full-fledged outlaw. The conflict made him famous around the country, even the globe. But once again, he was on the run, a hunted fugitive carrying multiple murder charges. His strongest allies were dead. He was alone and desperate.

In that state of mind, he decided to seek a truce with the man he hated most, Jimmy Dolan. But Billy would soon face a wrenching betrayal that would lead to one final decisive showdown. From Wondery, this is Episode 2 of Billy the Kid for American History Tellers. On the next episode, Billy the Kid enters the last chapter of his short, violent life as he tries everything he can to avoid the noose. With relentless lawman Pat Garrett on his trail, the Kid makes the transition from haunted desperado to dark legend of the Wild West. If you like American History Tellers, you can binge all episodes early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. If you'd like to learn more about Billy the Kid, we recommend

Violence in Lincoln County, 1869 to 1881 by William A. Kellner and Billy the Kid, A Short and Violent Life by Robert M. Utley. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Audio editing by Molly Bach. Sound design by Derek Behrens. Music by Lindsey Graham. This episode is written by Peter Gilstrap, edited by Dorian Marina. Our senior producer is Andy Herman.

Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marsha Louis for Wondery. In a quiet suburb, a community is shattered by the death of a beloved wife and mother. But this tragic loss of life quickly turns into something even darker. Her husband had tried to hire a hitman on the dark web to kill her. And she wasn't the only target.

Because buried in the depths of the internet is The Kill List, a cache of chilling documents containing names, photos, addresses, and specific instructions for people's murders. This podcast is the true story of how I ended up in a race against time to warn those whose lives were in danger. And it turns out, convincing a total stranger someone wants them dead is not easy.

Follow Kill List on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Kill List and more Exhibit C true crime shows like Morbid early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery+. Check out Exhibit C in the Wondery app for all your true crime listening.