Document text
Edith L. Crawford Words -US°
Carrizozo, New Mexico Sep. 50, 1957
EARLY DAYS IN LINCOLN COUNTY
Early in the spring of 1876, Frank Lesnett, and I were united in
marriage in the city of Chicago Lainois, after a joyous honeymoon,
my husband left me in Chicago, he came west and settled on the Ruidoso,
located at the foot of the White Mountains, he bought a half interest
in the Dowlin Mill, and sent for me. I came by train to LaJunta Colorado,
and from there by stage to Fort Stanton, where my husband met me and
we drove on to our ranch home.
When I arrived at the ranch I was happily surprised:. It had every
thing to do with' there was a river runing near the big two story adobe
house that was called the Ruidoso, which means noisy in Spanish. There
were tall pine trees and wild flower, that were of so many varities
and colors that I would not even &tempt to name them, all around everywhere.
The ranch was beautiful:
I was very happy in my new home, and to ada to our happiness a son was
born to us during the first year, whom we called Irvin. The only thing
to mar my happiness was the Indians would go on the warpath, and the
Lincoln County war, was brewing.
In the spring of 1878, I took my young son and went to visit the proud
gViaiparents of Irvin in Chicago. When I returned I found that Frank
had built a general store and hotel, so that I would not get as lonesome
as I seemed to before I left.
I insisted on taking charge of it myself, but my trade in the store soon
grew until I had to have a helper. Most of my customers were the
neighboring ranchers and Indians, but the red men were very orderly
around the Mill, because they were treated with respect, they appreciated
this and never harmed us in any way. Of course, the Indians were not
supposed to have "firewater", but they always managed to get it in some way.
There was s band of thieves who were preying upon the Indians as well
as the various ranchers within a few days ride. The Indians went on
the war path and were having one of their dances to ward off the evil
spirits and the Chief, liugustine, came to the mill and wanted some
"firewater", I told him I just couldn't give him any as I would get in
trouble, but he begged so hard and said he would never tell Where he
got it, so 1 finally told him I would put it in a certain place, and
he could go and get it. Augustine took the whiskey.
That night the Indians and thieves met, and cattle stealing wasn't
practised quite so openly after that.
I was so scared for fear my husband would find out that I had given
Augustine whiskey, but he never did. I made a loyal friend out of
this Indian and he gave me many lovely presents made by his tribe,
among them was beautiful buckskin suit, moccasins and beads to go with
it. I took it to Chicago on my next visit and wore it to a masked ball
and won the prize.
When Jennie Mae, my second child, was about nine months old, "The Kid"
came to our house. He came with a boy by the name of Jess Evans, and
was introduced as Billie Bonney. Could this be the notorious "Billy the
Kid?" I thought, surely not. He looked just like any other seventeen
year old boy, and not in the least like a 'desperado. He was very fond
of children, and liked Irvin and Jennie Mae at once. He called my little
boy "Pardie" and always wanted to hold the baby. He would take the two
of them for a ride on his gray pony. He also had a little dog which was
very spirited. He would jump up on the "Kid" until he would laughingly
pull his gun and begin firing into the ground, the dog would playfully
follow every puff of dust, yelping joyfully. Little did he realize
that if one of those pellets of lead went amiss that he would be no more,
but he was perfectly safe, as "The Kid" was one of the quickest, most
accurate shots in the Southwest. He often said, however, that he wished
he were as accurate with a six-gun as he was with a rifle. He was good
with pistol but excellent with a rifle.
I remember soon after the battle that was fought at Blazre's Mill, that
Billy came to our house and was telling me about the fight they had with
Buckshot Roberts. He said he heard the shooting and walked around the
corner of the house to see what it was all about. One of his men called
out to him, but not in time to keep Roberts from shooting at him. .The
bullet took a nick out of his shirt. During the battle Dick Brewer,
wondering why Roberts didInt shoot, peeked up over tne wood pile and as
he did so Roberts fired from the house, and Brewer fell, the top of his
head shot off. tarly in the battle Roberts had been shot throl the ab-
domen and was weakening rapidly. George Coe stuck his gun up to fire
and Roberts shot, taking the thumb off as cleanly as a doctor could have
done with his surgical knife. I said, "Billy, don't you think that you
did wrong when you killed Roberts?" "Well, I didn't start it, and I
think that Brewer killed him," he answered sullenly. "But it wasn't
fair, seven to one." I protested. "Mill, he was spying on us." The Kid
knew it wasn't fair, and he wanted to fight fair.
One incident at the close of the Lincoln County War, which was only one
of the things which mane it the bloodiest in the history of the West,
the two sides, one for Law and the other for Lawlessness, were engaged in
a war in which almost every cattleman in the county wqs somehow involved.
Strange as it may seem, the Kid, an outlaw joined the forces for law
and order.
-4
The lawless led by Morton, had driven the Kid and his band into the
McSween home in Lincoln, the Kid having his forces organized, arran-
ged the McSween home with loop holes, as he talked to McSween, who
was very religious and always carried a Bible with him, he held out
a gun toward him. McSween indignately pushed it away, saying, "I
me
trust in the Lord, I know He will help4-bring me safely through,"
"all right, you trust in your Bible, but I trust in my six-gun,"
replied The Kid cheerfully, patting it.
The McSween home was soon surrounded by the Murphy gang, and firing
became very heavy, knowing that all the men wou1d go down fighting, Mrs.
McSween, decided to go to a troop of soldiers that she knew was near. She
got out of the house, but when she arrived, the soldiers firmly refused
to help to help her. Her journey had been in vain: But the soldiers did
take an interest in the battle, and decided to go to Lincoln, to 6ee the
fight, Mrs. McSween seeing them, and thinking that they had changed their
minds and had come to stop the fight, went out to meet them. After
looking things over they decided that there was nothing they could do
and retreated out of range of the bullets and watched the fight continue.
Murphy's men knew that they would never get The Kid and his band unless
they could drive them out of the house.
So they soaked a barrel with coal -oil and rolled it down the hill to set
the house afire. The 11,use began to burn, but the battle did not stop.
The Kid kept moving his men from room to room until they reached the
last room. He knew that they would have to take a desperate chance for
their freedom. The only escape was to run across a thirty foot space
behind the house, roll under the fence and go along the bed of the
Bonito River.
-5
He called his men to the back door and explained the plan to them. One
by one they started for the fence, and one by one they fell, either dead
or mortally wounded. At last MbSween was to go.
"Run out of that door like a streak of greased lightning, roll
under the fnece and hit for the Bonita River, they you'll see Mrs. McSween
in the morning."
As McSween reached the door he drew himself up every inch of his height,
and stepped aignitly onto the steps.
"Here I am -I'm McSween," he called in a listless voice, he knew
what would follow.
Fifty shots answered him--- and his body was riddled with holes. Then there
W8.6 a lull in the fray. They knew who was coming next. The Kid hitched his
belt a little tighter, inspected his guns, and with one in each hand ran
through the blazing door. Immediately he was a target for every man in Murphy's
gang, as someone yelled, "Here comes the Kid."
Many bullets were wasted for the Kid, jumping from side to side as he ran,
was a very illusive taaget. Each gun was aimed with care and each bullet winged
with hatred as it suught to find a way to his heart as he crossed that space
of thirty feet.
But not one touched his body, though they ripped his clothes to shreds. His
score was one dead and two marked for life --one shot through the jaws and tie
other lost the lobe of his left ear.
As he rolled under the fence a mocking laugh floated back to them. It is
impossible to describe the horror of the deeds that were committed during
the Lincoln County Year.
Many unknown graves dot the surrounding country and many human bones lie
bleaching in the sun for they carried on guerrilla warfare. When one
party met the other while riding through the hills they just opened fire,
either pushing forward or retreating as luck chanced to given them
oAportunity to do. If all the men were accounted for their graves
might reach from Roswell to Ahite Oaks. One evening when it was peaceful
and quite on the ranch and all retired, the silence was broken by a series
of shots in quick succession. I snatched Jennie Aae and Irvin from their
beds and ran towards the river. Ais I approached the great triangle used to
call the cowboys to meals, I paused to give it several strikes, but this.
was not necessary for the men were already on their stomachs working
their way toward the house.
Thinking that Indians has attacked, they hau hardly started toward the house,
when the firing ceased as quickly as it has begun. When the men got into the
house and looked around, they found that a box of cartridges that had been on
top of the mantle had been knocked by something into the fire. When I told
the Kid about this he asked me if I had a gun.
"Heavens, no," I replied laughing, "I wouldn't know how to shoot even if I
had one. "Take this one," he said, holding one of his gull/out to me, and
I'll teach you to shoot when I come back." Poor boy never came back to our
house, the next time I saw him he was a prisoner, guarded by bell and Olinger.
Olinger knowing that I liked The Kid, gleefully invited me to the hangihg, I
turned my head and blinked fast to keep back the tears. Suddenly The Kid
turned to me and said "Mrs. Lesnett they can't hang me if I'm not there, can
they?" I straightened and turned.
"Of course they can't, hilly," I said and it seemed to encourage him.
It was just a few days after this that The Kid killeu his two guards at Lincoln,
and made his escape.
His freedom was not to last very long. Pat Garrett killed him at Fort
Sumner, about two months later.
Narrator: Mrs. A. E. Lesnett, Age 82, Carrizozo, New Mexico