Billy the Kid in Arizona

or led south from Apache Pass through Sulphur Spring Valley and into Sonora at Agua Prieta.

From Garrett's book and from a later book called The Real Billy the Kid by Miguel Otero, published in 1936, come most of the scanty facts about Billy's adventures in Arizona. But the record has been embellished by remarks dropped by the Kid himself from time to time, and remembered by some of those who were his contemporaries. These help to fill in the blanks. If Billy the Kid rode into Arizona leaving one dead man behind him in Silver City, he rode out of Arizona a year or two later leaving, as a minimum, three dead Indians and one dead soldier. Thus his record for murder began to gain momentum. Nevertheless, he left the territory virtually as unknown as when he arrived, and it was only in view of his later exploits that these lost years began to take on any significance. Certainly nothing happened to Billy in Arizona that contributed in the least to the mending of his ways, and his stay in the territory only added to his outlaw career.

From a culling of the facts available it is possible to visualize Billy, a thirteen-year-old boy on a stolen horse, riding south and west from Silver City, not knowing where the trail might lead and caring less. He was headed only for pastures new, and his single desire was to put plenty of distance between himself and Silver City. From a friendly Mexican sheepherder he received tortillas and dried mutton. Farther along the way he met another stranger, a young chap of twenty or so, whose plight seemed even worse than Billy's. This man had no horse, no food, no money, and as Billy later discovered, no name. He had, by force of circumstances, changed his name so many times that he called himself simply "Alias" and let it go at that. Now Billy was not all bad; deep in his nature ran a streak of sympathy for the downtrodden. Here was a fellow worse off than himself. And where was that fellow going? To Arizona? So was Billy. He offered Alias a position behind him on the hurricane deck of his horse. Alias accepted, and a day or two later the two boys arrived at Camp Bowie at the east end of Apache Pass in what is today Cochise County, mounted together on a sore-backed nag, without food, water, or a dime between them.

At the military installation they were fed, and then Billy looked about for a means of survival. Alias, apparently, was quite willing to follow Billy's leadership. Ash Upson believed that they traded their horse for weapons, and left the post on foot, but armed with one condemned rifle and one pistol. In view of what happened next, this is very likely true. And it is typical of the Kid to place firearms higher in value than anything else. He armed himself at Fort Bowie at the age of thirteen, and save for an interval in jail, he was never again without a gun right up to the moment of his death.

Ten miles west of Fort Bowie the two boys met a party of three Apache Indians. They were Chiricahua Apaches, always a dangerous race, but at the moment they happened to be friendly. This turned out to be an unfortunate friendship for the Indians. Billy's objective was to get himself a fresh horse. The Indians had twelve horses, a number of saddles and blankets, pelts and food. The two white boys had nothing but their antiquated firearms. Billy tried in English and in Spanish, both of which the Indians could understand to some degree, to make a deal. But it was to no avail. The friendly redskins were not willing to trade horses, saddles, and blankets for a mere promise to pay later. They said "no" and they meant it. Billy wanted the horses and he meant it. What happened in the next few minutes can be surmised only from Billy's own words as quoted in the Upson-Garrett book and later in the Miguel Otero book.

"It was a ground hog case. Here were twelve good ponies, four or five saddles, a good supply of blankets, and five pony loads of pelts. Here were three bloodthirsty savages, reveling in all this luxury, and refusing succor to two free-born, white American citizens, footsore and hungry. The plunder had to change hands-there was no alternative -and as one live Indian could place a hundred United States troopers on our trail in two hours, and as a dead Indian would be likely to take some other route, our resolves were taken. In three minutes there were three 'good Injuns' lying around there, careless like, and with ponies and plunder we skipped. There was no fight. It was about the softest thing I ever struck.

That these were Billy's very words is doubtful; but that they were approximately what he said is probable. More to the point is the fact that Billy and Alias rode off with the property of the three good Indians-made "good" by Billy's six-shooter. It is a curious instance of the white race showing more savagery than the red. Apaches were seldom caught off guard, but apparently they never expected such explosive treachery from two seemingly harmless white youths. The boys sold the extra horses to emigrants, disposed of the pelts possibly in Tucson, and when next seen at Fort Bowie were well mounted, well fed, well armed, and had money in their pockets. Life offered no problems, and as for the three dead Indians-who cared? Things were looking up in Arizona!

Again the trail is thin as Billy the Kid and Alias lived, for the time and place at least, "high, wide and handsome." Billy's name appears at times in the history of the fabulous town of Tombstone, but this is the result of a confusion and similarity in names. The Billy the Kid of old Tombstone was William Claiborne, and when the Tombstone Epitaph printed "Billy the Kid takes a shot at Buckskin Frank" as a headline in 1882 and followed it with "Latter promptly replied and former quietly turns up his toes to the daisies," the paper was referring to the local boy, William Claiborne. The real and only Billy the Kid had been killed the year before in New Mexico, and Claiborne had been given the soubriquet in jest. But this fine point often confuses readers and leads many to think that William Bonney had been a habitué of Tombstone. Actually, Billy the Kid left Arizona before Ed Schieffelin's strike was made, and therefore five or six years before the town of Tombstone came into being in 1879But in 1872 Billy and Alias had not long to enjoy their ill-gotten plunder. Billy was clever at monte but he must have met a dealer who was even smarter. In good time the two boys were broke once more, although Billy had managed to keep an excellent horse. Alias' mount was an old plug. Again the two young brigands survived by their wits and again their victims were Indians. This time, however, there was no bloodshed but merely the application of the Old Army Game, or never give a sucker an even break.

Indians love to gamble and the Apaches are no exceptions. One of their favorite sports was horse racing, quite understandable in view of the fact that Apaches are expert horsemen. Billy and Alias, looking for quick wealth (there is no record of their ever working for a living throughout Billy's stay in Arizona) came upon a band of ten or more Apaches near San Simon. Apart from firearms, the boys' only capital assets consisted of their mounts and perhaps a few dollars. Billy suggested a horse race, a diversion for any gentlemen, red or white. The Indians quickly agreed. At first the race was to be between Billy's handsome charger and the finest animal the Indians could produce. The stakes consisted of money, firearms and saddles. Billy's only stipulation was that Alias must hold the stakes until the winner had been determined. To this the Indians assented, the stakes were put up, and an improvised race course was agreed upon. Just before the race began Billy had another idea. Why limit this contest to two horses? Why not make the entries four? Alias' old plug would be added, and an Indian pony as well. Again the Indians agreed. If a twohorse race would be fun, a four-horse race would be even more sporting. Just to show that there were no hard feelings or prejudices Billy insisted that Alias should ride his charger and he would attempt to win on Alias' old plug. Once more the Indians agreed. They were eager to get on with the great race. They didn't stop to think that Alias was holding all the stakes. The four riders lined up: Billy, Alias, and two Indians. At a given signal the race was on. Alias, on Billy's charger, took the lead and held it all the way to the finish, winning handily. The two Indians came in second and third, and Billy on the tired old plug was last.

the entries four? Alias' old plug would be added, and an Indian pony as well. Again the Indians agreed. If a twohorse race would be fun, a four-horse race would be even more sporting. Just to show that there were no hard feelings or prejudices Billy insisted that Alias should ride his charger and he would attempt to win on Alias' old plug. Once more the Indians agreed. They were eager to get on with the great race. They didn't stop to think that Alias was holding all the stakes.

The four riders lined up: Billy, Alias, and two Indians. At a given signal the race was on. Alias, on Billy's charger, took the lead and held it all the way to the finish, winning handily. The two Indians came in second and third, and Billy on the tired old plug was last.

But to the surprise of the Apaches, Alias was not content with winning the race, but kept on going, never reining in his horse, but continuing his mad pace until he was completely out of sight and beyond pursuit. He never did come back.

The Indians stormed and fumed and Billy swore and wept. The Indians sensed trickery, but Billy claimed complete innocence. He vowed vengeance on Alias if ever he saw him again, and his fury was so bitter and intense that the Indians were taken in. Hadn't Billy lost more than they? The stakes were gone with the thieving Alias-all of them. The Indians had lost only their stakes, and justly, too; but Billy had lost his horse, his saddle, and his money to a double-crossing partner. As the story goes, Billy raised such a fuss that the Apaches never doubted his honesty, and in sympathy they finally gave him a first class animal to replace the old plug his wily ex-partner had foisted upon him. And so Billy rode away, ostensibly a sadder and wiser young man. Two days and one hundred miles later, Billy and Alias met at a deserted cattle ranch, previously agreed upon as a trysting place, and merrily divided the loot.

STOCKS AMBASSADORS OF BEAUTY FROM ARIZONA

Great patches of the same rugged Arizona desert land, that is noted for its bright variety variety of cactus blossoms and other wild flowers, have recently been tamed, watered and domesticated to work with man in producing a spectacular array of cultivated splendor called stocks (Matthiola incana). Though stocks have long been a popular home-garden flower, only recently, through the efforts, skill and patience of a group of Japanese-American flower experts, has this new and promising industry of commercial stock growing found its place in the Salt River Valley of Arizona. There, more than a hundred acres of land have been turned into variegated patterns of color with a sweet fragrance detectable a mile or more on all sides.The color allure and lasting fragrance of these blossom clusters have created for them a popular demand. Four months out of the year, January through April, they serve many nationwide floral needs, from delicate blossom corsages and wedding decorations to home bouquets. Because of their durable freshness of from seven to ten days after they are cut, stocks from Arizona are an ideal shipping "PERSPECTIVE AND COLOR" BY ALLEN C. REED. This color study of an Arizona stock field was taken just south of Phoenix in March at the height of the season. Camera data: Speed Graphic, 4x5 Ektachrome, 1/10 of a second at f.16.