Free Ghost Moon by John Wilson

It’s April 5 and I am a bit behind schedule, but I’ll make the best time I can and hope that Brewer will wait for me at Fort Stanton.
    It’s midafternoon before I approach Blazer’s Mill. On the bright side, I’m feeling better and am even contemplating stopping for something to eat. The first thing I notice as I approach the mill is a small man standing staring into a hole in the ground. As I get closer, I notice that the hole looks suspiciously like a large grave. I dismount, hitch the mules to a rail and approach the man. He turns and looks at me suspiciously.
    â€œHowdy,” I say, smiling as broadly as I can. “What’s going on?”
    â€œAin’t you never seen a grave afore?” The man looks like a bird. He has a narrow pointed nose, and he looks at me with close-set, sharp eyes.
    â€œI’ve seen graves before,” I say. “Whose is this?”
    The man spits on the ground. “Were a fight yesterday. Some Regulators come down to eat at Ma Godfroy’s place. Best food this side of Santa Fe, if you want my opinion. If you’re planning on eating, she has some wild turkey that’ll have your mouth watering like Niagara Falls.”
    I don’t want this man’s opinion about food. The mention of Regulators being here rivets my attention. “What happened yesterday? Who was shot?”
    The man looks momentarily annoyed at being interrupted but then launches into the story with gusto. “Round noon yesterday, ’bout six of them Regulator boys shows up to sup at Ma Godfroy’s place. Like I said, her food’s famous hereabouts.”
    â€œWas Bill Bonney with them?” I interrupt.
    â€œBill Bonney? You mean Kid Antrim? Sure he was with ’em. Him and a couple of the other boys been round here once or twice these past few weeks, asking after Jesse Evans. Kid were limping something fierce from a bullet wound in the leg.
    â€œAnyways, as I was saying, they was just setting down to eat when Buckshot Roberts shows up. Now, I don’t know whether you know this or not, young fella, but Buckshot used to ride with Jesse Evans. And Evans and his boys ain’t too popular with the Regulators. Turns out that Buckshot was with the posse that rode out to McSween’s place the day Tunstall were shot, and the Kid Antrim’s carrying a warrant fer his arrest.
    â€œBuckshot claims the warrant’s been cancelled by Sheriff Brady, but the Kid just laughs and says that don’t make no difference, ’cause old Bill Brady’s been cancelled himself, and Buckshot better just surrender his gun and come quiet.
    â€œNow, Buckshot says he ain’t gonna do that ’cause that’s the surest way to end up like Billy Morton and Frank Baker. Words was exchanged and then some shooting. John Middleton took a bullet in the chest and Frank Coe got his trigger finger shot clean off, but Buckshot took a killing shot right through the middle. Didn’t die right away though. Holed up with his old Springfield rifle behind a mattress in the doorway of Godfroy’s office yonder.”
    The small man points over to a large wooden house down by the river. “Now, Buckshot were dying, everyone including Buckshot knew that. He were yelling in pain and cussing the Regulators fit to bust. One of the Regulators took hisself over the creek to try and finish Buckshot off. Reckon Kid Antrim would’ve done it if it weren’t fer his leg.
    â€œThe fella took a shot at Buckshot but missed. I reckon Buckshot saw the smoke, even though it were near a hundred and fifty yards off. He waited until the fella popped his head up fer another shot and fired. Shot him dead as that rock yonder. One of the nicest pieces of shooting I ever seen. So, this fella and Buckshot is both dead, though old Buckshot lingered, screaming until this morning. That’s why we’ve gone and dug such a big hole. Aiming to bury them both together to save