October 26th, 1881 (Short Story)

The Old Man spit a stream of brown tobacco juice at the dog lying beside him in the shade. He then wiped his lips, stoked his white beard with a sunburnt hand, and closed his eyes. His head hurt from too much drink. Fin got up went to get a drink of cool water from the oja, but the other boys sat quietly waiting for him to speak. The Old Man was remembering lying in the hot dirt along the rim of Skeleton Canyon. Today was going to be just as hot. The Old Man wanted to go back to bed and sleep until the heat began to cool. Billy shifted in his chair, scraping the legs along the plank floor of the gallery. Fin came back and offered his brother Ike a drink from the tin cup. A fly landed on the Old Man's nose. He brushed it away, sighed and opened his eyes. Time to let the boys get started.

"Fin, I want you to ride over to the Fort and see if what the Major will pay for that herd we brought up last week. You other boys can do what you want today, but I think you ought to stay out of Tombstone. I've got a bad feeling in my bones."

They were good boys. A little wild, but then this was a wild land. Fin was good at dealing with buyers, and little Billy's smile charmed everyone who knew him. Ike was most like his daddy. Ike was big and loved a good time. Ike could usually be found in the saloon over in Charleston drinking and playing dominoes. Charleston didn't offer much, but it was close to the ranch and Tombstone had lost much of its charm. Damned outsiders come in and take over everything. Telling folks how they was cleaning up the place, what a laugh. The Old Man could feel his stomach tighten, and thought he might have to vomit. Time was when the little ranchers round about meant something. They had fought the Apache, and taken this land for their own.

The boys rode up to the gallery, and bid the Old Man good-bye. He waved his hand, and told them to be careful and that he would expect them home that night. Billy and Ike rode off toward Charleston, and Fin rode south to the Fort. The Old Man knew that Ike would probably go on into Tombstone if he ran into one of the Mclaury boys. He hoped that Billy would stay in Charleston; he had promised his Momma that he would die with his boots off. The Old Man smiled to himself. He didn't miss the old woman much, but once in a while her softness returned to haunt him. She sure knew the dangers of their life, but was now at peace over in the graveyard at St. David.

The fly returned, and it's lazy buzzing reminded the Old Man again of that day up on Skeleton Canyon. There was a fly that day too, it was the only sound he heard as he and his companions waited in hiding. They had been spread-out along the canyon rim since before dawn. It was already mid-morning, and the sun was beating them right into the hard earth they lay on. The Mexicans were sure taking their time. The Old Man saw a mirror flash from across the canyon. He glanced at his watch lying beside him on the rocks, it was 9:45. The lookout had spotted the Mexican pack train. Time still dragged on for a long time before he could hear the feint tinkling of the little silver bells the Mexicans tied to the bridles of their burros. Finally they came into view. There were twenty-six burros, and a dozen drovers all armed with Winchesters.

Zwing Hunt opened fire too soon, but one of the Mexicans fell. Before the Mexican hit the ground, everyone was firing. The sound of the shots echoed from the canyon walls until it seemed that a whole regiment of Yankee soldiers were shooting. The burros went wild trying to escape, but one by one they fell under the bullets from above. Some of the Mexicans returned the fire, but they were at a great disadvantage. The Old Man had stationed his men along the rim so that the sun was behind them. Down in the canyon the sun blinded the Mexicans as they tried to find targets above them. The battle seemed to go on a long time, but it ended in fifteen minutes by the Old Man's watch.

The Old Man sent Joe Hill to round up any of the burros that might have gotten away. The rest of the ambush party lay watching for movement below. After half an hour they carefully descended the slope.

The canyon floor was quiet. Nothing moved, even the breeze was still. The Old Man remembered the bodies sprawled awkwardly in death, and the flies buzzing around them. A couple of the Mexicans weren't yet dead, but single bullets to their heads finished the job. Once the men were sure that no one remained alive, they turned to the burro packs. They were split open and a flood of Mexican silver dollars cascaded across the sand. They counted the burros, and found that there were only 24, so two had gotten away. Hill would bring them back. Forty-eight bags of silver dollars! Oh, what a glorious haul, too much as it turned out. When they brought their horses down from the canyon rim it was clear that they couldn't carry all the silver.

Hill solved that problem when he came back with a wagon pulled by a team of mules. "Look, what I found boys", he called. "There was a cook back there cleaning up their beans, so I killed him. Figured we might need the wagon."

"Did you get the two burros that got away"?

"Two? I only saw one, and I got the packs in the wagon."

The Old Man remembered the creaking of the wagon as they drove it out of the canyon. They drove southwest away from Skeleton Canyon toward El Paso. Twenty miles and they found a good spot to hide their treasure. He remembered each of the men filling their saddlebags with silver, and burying the rest. He remembered burning the wagon over the buried treasure, and the outline of the hills above. He remembered how cold it was as night fell and they rode away.

As the men scattered and their hoof beats faded, the Old Man became aware that there was a buzzing about his head. He lifted his hand to brush the tickling feet of the fly from his face, and opened his eyes. The sun was just falling beyond the distant mountains. The whole sky was filled with color; it was one of the most beautiful sunsets the Old Man ever saw. A bright star hung in the darkening heavens, and the Old Man was thirsty again. He got up from his rocking chair and went into the little adobe house. He found a mason jar half full of raw whiskey, and took it back out onto the gallery. It had been a fine dream, but it was still frustrating not to be able to ever find the spot where they had buried all that silver. The Old Man was grinding his teeth in frustration, when he heard a horseman ride up. He gathered up a shotgun that had stood silent guard beside him all day, and cocked both barrels.

It was Ike, and it was clear that he was in trouble.

"What's the matter Ike? Where's your brother Billy?"

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On October 26th, 1881, Ike and Billy Clanton along with the McLaury brothers met the Earp faction on the street just outside the O.K. Corral. The ensuing fight has become famous. Ike survived by running away, but Billy was killed -- probably by Doc Holliday. Billy is said to have asked bystanders to remove his boots before he died because of a promise he made to his mother.

All of the Clantons were outlaws, though they paraded as honest ranchers. Old Man Clanton was one of the leading outlaws of the time, and was eventually shot to death by the owners of some cattle he was rustling. The ambush described in the story actually occurred, and the skeletal remains of man and burro are what gave the location its name, Skeleton Canyon. As late as the 1930s, visitors were still finding the odd Mexican silver dollar in, or near the Canyon. No one is entirely sure of who all took part in the massacre, but Old Man Clanton did lead the attack.

Ike was also shot to death years after the OK Corral gunfight. Fin, the third Clanton boy, went to prison for a holdup in the late 1880's.