Billy the Kid

There might have been plans for some fun in other worlds, but Billy still needed to get out for a bit.

He didn't plan on being gone long, and knew Doc would be good enough to wait for him, so Billy headed home for a bit.



Big skies, open desert and all of New Mexico stretch out before him and he rides South across the scrub.

He's not aiming for any place in particular, just has that need to fill his lungs with desert air and stretch his and his horse's legs.

They end up in a rat-hole town just North of the border. He doesn't plan on crossing, so he stops in at a cantina. Dirty floors and glasses, and an out of tune piano plunking in the corner complete with a frilly skirted bar-maid singer who's long past her dancing girl days.

Billy settles in at a table with tequila and a bowl of beans; perfectly aware of his surroundings, how many guns are in the room, and how many eyes fall on him.

He returns a few looks with a quick smile and that's enough that he hardly gets a second glance from them.

As bad as the singing and song playing are (or maybe because of it), Billy's enjoying it. His head nods along to a beat that's not quite there as he swabs up beans in a scoop of tortilla.

"Hey partner, don't I know you?" The voice comes from a mustached man in a tweed jacket. His derby hat tries to look respectable, but seems more secondhand than anything, and he has a partner behind him, carrying a camera.

Billy looks him over, expression a perfect match for casual, and shakes his head.

"Nope, don't believe you do."

The stranger grins, his first words a line that Billy's just bit onto.

"Course I do! You are the man witness to the end of the black-hearted Arkansas Dave Rudabaugh and his nefarious band of outlaws, the Regulators!"

Billy's eyes narrow a hair, even as he laughs.

"What?"

"Yes sir, indeed. Our friendly Mexican neighbors have captured that scoundrel and dealt him a good ol' hand of western justice. It's a historic event, friend, and for a low price you can be a part of it." The man's voice was all salesman, his smile pleasant like a wolf's as he leaned in towards Billy.

Around the bar, other ears start to catch the man's pitch, and interest drifts in the salesman's direction.

Sensing he's drawing a crowd, the man pitches his voice higher.

"Behold, images of the ill-fated Rudabaugh!" Snapping his fingers impatiently at his cameraman, the salesman is handed a stack of photographs. Putting one down in front of Billy, he holds the others up for the rest of the bar to see.

Billy's eyes fall on the photo, and his blood runs cold.

It's Dave, alright. Or at least his head.

Stuck up on a post, the features of Billy's pal were locked in a death grimace, his eyes half closed, mouth hanging slightly agape. The image filled Billy's vision, as the salesman kept pitching.

"Yes folks, that is the "Arkansas" Dave Rudabaugh."

"He said Dave Rudabaugh of Las Veh-has!"

"The last leader of the wild outlaws known as the Regulators."

"No, it's your gang, it's always been your gang."

"Man who thought he could outrun the law. He might've escaped Pat Garrett, but folks, he did not escape justice."

"Don't cross me, Dave."



The shot is loud. A sharp crack that splits the air and makes the whole crowd jump.

The salesman stands still, wide surprise written all over his face. He looks at the hole that's just been put into his chest, then lifts his eyes to Billy. His mouth works, but nothing comes out, and the photographs spill from his fingers before he tilts over and hits the floor.

Billy is still looking at the picture of Dave, gun up and leveled at the spot where the salesman stood.

Silence echoes in the room, and everyone's breath holds when Billy looks up, then stands.

Glancing around the room, Billy turns the gun towards the cameraman. The man shrinks down, quaking where he stands under Billy's cold gaze.

"You do any newspaper work?" Billy asks, gesturing at him with the gun.

The cameraman's mouth works like a fish for a few moments before he finds a voice. "S-- s-- some."

"Good. You tell 'em, that what Dave got wasn't justice. Justice is comin'. An' you tell everyone, the Regulators ain't dead."

The cameraman nodded, hiding behind his equipment as Billy, after another look around, strode past him and out of the cantina.

Outside he mounted up, pointed his horse South, and rode for Old Mexico.

He'd find a door along the way.

The door opens out to a New Mexico prairie, sparse with scrub brush and a few twisted Joshua Trees. It's just outside the hideout Billy had been meaning to go into when he walked into Milliways and the door to the bar closes and reveals the crooked wind worn one of the small shanty.

Straightening out his gunbelts Billy gives a nod and smirk to Will and kicks in the door, drawing his guns quickly and pointing them infront of him. "Ya'll are wanted for murder, thievin and doin it with your horse!"

Inside the two men who were playing cards at a slanted table jump up, trying to draw thier weapons and spilling drinks and revealing thier hands in the process.

"Jesus Billy!" Pat Garrett, the tall man with the mustache exlaims. "What the heck are you doin?!"

The clean shaven man across the table from him, Arkansas Dave Rudabaugh holds his gun up a little longer and moves it's aim from Billy to the man standing behind him. "Who's this, Kid?"

Things in Ft. Sumner weren't all that bad. Hide in a barrel, someones barn or pen, duck into an outhouse to avoid the calvary men snooping about for him, he had friends here and they weren't going to let them catch him. Of course, as funny as it might be each time its no way for a man to live his life forever. And $500 does break a lot of ties. 

So, when Pat Garrett told Billy that the Governor wanted a meeting with him about testifying against the Murphy Boys Billy was pretty tempted. When one of his friend in the village turned against him for the reward and the shooting started Billy ended the friendship with a bullet then made the quick decision to go on into Lincoln and check out this deal. 

Meeting the Governor was about what he expected. Fancy man in a fancy office who only knows part of the story. Billy corrected him when he called the Lincoln County fights a 'Cattle War'. It was a merchant War, Irish against the English and John Tunstall and the English didn't make out all that well. And that's why Billy went to war and that's why he'd be more then happy to go on into that courthouse and testify against Murphy's men. 

As long as he himself received a full pardon of course. When you make a deal you make sure the terms are good for you. The Governor agreed, adding the terms that Billy must leave New Mexico after the trial and never return. Billy knew full well he wasn't going any where but decided he'd let the Governor find that out on his own. 

So the deal was struck, Billy turned himself in and settled in to enjoy the good life. In prison.