JULY 2018

JULY 2018
One Hundred Years Later, Same Message. 1916 - 2017


Saturday, February 18, 2017

TOMBSTONES Chapter Eight

I know what Virgil Earp was thinking when he was accosted that August of 1880 in Charleston, Arizona. In response to a challenge by 5 foot 3 inch tall Tom and 5 foot 4 inch tall Frank McLaury, the 6 foot tall Deputy Federal Marshal Earp assured them he had nothing to do with the notice published in the Tombstone Epitaph accusing them of stealing 6 army mules. Despite this Frank warned Marshal Earp, "If I thought you did, I would make you fight right here". Virgil knew the McLaury's threats had worked against previous lawmen. But Virgil was different. He quietly assured Frank that if an arrest warrant was ever issued against either McLaury, "No compromise would be made on my part." The elder McLaury asserted that he would never be taken alive. Calmly, Virgil asked, "Frank, you are not looking for a quarrel, are you?"
Virgil Walter Earp (above) was 37 years old that summer of 1880 with no history of panic. He had returned to Illinois after 3 years Civil War service to find his wife and daughter dead from fever, and her family moved away. After a decade of wandering the American west he fell in love again, with the small feisty 31 year old Alvira "Allie" Sullivan. Virgil referred to her as being "not much bigger than and as sweet as pickle". Three years later Virgil became a stagecoach guard in Precott, Arizona. And there, in October of 1877, unbidden, Virgil backed up U.S. Marshal "Little Bill" Standifer in a shoot out, killing one of the attackers. A month later Virgil was elected town sheriff, and a year after that he was appointed Deputy Federal Marshal, assigned to clean up the troublesome "Cow Boys" in and around Tombstone. He immediately wrote his 4 brothers of the financial opportunities the silver strike offered.
Virgil was not the first Earp to become a lawman. His younger brother, 32 year old (in 1880) Wyatt Berry Stapp Earp (above) had been a deputy sheriff in Dodge City, Kansas , but that was only part time. Wyatt's preferred occupation was the profitable dealing of faro (see last photo in essay). The slight odds favoring the faro dealer could be improved by lightening fast play that disguised crooked shuffles and bottom dealing. Cheating was so common that "Hoyle's Rules of Games" warned it's readers that not a single honest faro game could be found in the United States. And Wyatt Earp was one of the "best" faro dealers in the west.
The Earps gambled on Tombstone, going "all in" on 1 December 1879, when Virgil and Allie, Wyatt and his common-law wife, 30 year old Celia Ann "Mattie" Blaylock, 39 year old James Cooksdy Earp and his "beautiful brunette", 40 year old Nellie "Bessie" Catchim, all arrived by carriage and wagon from the territorial capital of Prescott. Six months later 28 year old Morgan Seth Earp (above) and his wife, the arthritic Louisa Alice Houston, would arrive, along with the Earps' friend and business partner, the temperamental and tubercular John Henry "Doc" Holliday with his Hungarian born common-law wife Mary Katherine "Big Nose Kate" Horony-Cummings.
Which brings up the unpleasant reality of the Earp's world. All the brothers and Holliday based their financial stability on whore houses, as property owners or bouncers from Illinois to Iowa to Kansas to Dakota and Arizona territories. And all the Earp wives - except Virgil's sweet pickle Allie and Wyatt's first wife who died in Iowa - worked as prostitutes, often even after they were married. 
Because the trade could be conducted with little capital investment - a tent or the back of a wagon could suffice - time and again after a financial setback, the women working as "soiled doves" provided the funds the family needed to survive. The sixth and final Earp brother, 25 year old Baxter Warren Earp, would not arrive in Tombstone for another year.
Tombstone, had matured in the two years since the silver strike. Los Angeles widow and freelance newspaper woman, Clara Spalding Brown, also arrived in Tombstone that June of 1880 and reported to the San Diego Union, it was, "an embryo city of canvas, frame and adobe...full of activity." New arrival rancher John Pleasant Gray was disappointed. "I looked in vain for any guns or so-called gunmen. I learned later that it was one of the town’s first ordinances that no guns were to be permitted in any public place, and Tombstone was always a quiet, safe town for the man who minded his own business.” 
John Clum, editor of the Tombstone Epitaph, first published on 1 May, 1880, wrote that he could recall, "...only one deadly street battle and one lynching during the entire 50 years of Tombstone’s existence." That bloody street battle was, of course, the shoot-out at the O.K. Corral.
Tombstone's most respectable street was named, ironically, after Arizona's 5th and largely absentee Territorial Governor - the handsome, arrogant, dashing and vapid John Charles Fremont (above).  In 1848 he had been the famous pathfinder to California, and the first Republican candidate for President in 1856. His wife, the beguiling Jesse Benton Fremont, was twice as smart and four times as ambitious as her husband. But her avidity, his cupidity and the financial panic of 1873 wiped out their fortune. Jesse kept a roof over their heads by writing magazine articles, but by 1878 the privileged couple were destitute. Taking pity, Republican President Rutherford B. Hays replaced the popular and efficient Arizona Territorial Governor John Philo Hoyt with the 65 year old fatuous and frivolous John C. Fremont.
Fremont (above) didn't even show up in Arizona for 5 months. And then he only stayed long enough to be sworn in, sign bills legalizing gambling and creating a state lottery, measures already passed by the 12 man Territorial Council - whose members were approved by the Republican leaning railroad and mining companies - and the 24 members of the Territorial House of Representatives , elected by the mostly ex-southern Democratic voters. Then, in 1879, after arraigning for his paychecks to be forwarded, Fremont and Jesse returned to their mansion on Staten Island, New York.
That left Republican officials in Arizona, on their own. In 1880, Republican appointed U.S. Deputy Marshall Robert Paul (above) ran for Pima County Sheriff, against Democrat Charlie Shibell. The votes from Tombstone and Charleston gave Paul a sizable lead. But his supporters cautioned, "Wait for the returns from San Simon", where "Ike" Clanton and Johnny Ringo were the election inspectors. Out of 12 registered voters in San Simon, 103 voted for Shibell, and only 1 for Paul. The Democrats never even tried to explain where the extra 90 voters had come from. The county election officials quickly awarded Shibell the office. It took 2 years of legal wrangling for that fraudulent election to be overturned, but it illustrated the political battle lines. Ranchers (rustlers), small businessmen and women tended to be Democrats, while the federal power structure, mine owners and managers and railroad officers, tended to be Republicans.
That was why the McLaury brothers felt comfortable in August of 1880, with threatening a Federal Marshall. Sneering at Virgil Earp's question about picking a fight, Frank McLaury told the Marshall that they had intended on killing him. But satisfied with his explanation, they bid Virgil Earp a good day. Watching the two "Cowboys" turn their backs and walk away, Virgil made a vow to never enter Charleston alone again. And to someday, settle the score with the McLaurys.
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Friday, February 17, 2017

TOMBSTONES Chapter Seven

I can't be certain what 28 year old Thomas McLaury (above) was thinking that Sunday afternoon, 25 July,  1880. I'm sure he was anxious and angry, watching 9 strangers approach the ranch he shared with his older brother. But then Tom was often angry, and anger masks thought. At just 5 foot 3 inches tall Tom found a reputation as a hot head to be a leveler in social conflicts. His opponents and even friends never knew when Tom might turn violent, and that hid how smart he was. With his men at hand suddenly outnumbered, and with 5 of the men pulling up outside his corral wearing soldier blue, and with 6 freshly re-branded stolen army mules in his corral, Tom knew he would have to do some pretty fast thinking to avoid a shootout with the U.S. Government in his own front yard.
The mules had been stolen 4 days earlier from Camp Rucker, an outpost in the cool elevations of White Canyon in the Chiricahua (chee-ree-KAH-wah) or wild turkey mountains, about 35 miles east of Tombstone and an equal distance north of the Sonora border. The garrison of 45 soldiers and 100 Indian scouts where supposed to discourage Apache raids, and mules were essential to their existence. Pride and regulations demanded the stolen property be returned, so the next morning Lieutenant Joseph H. Hurst set out with 4 men to locate the missing animals. But the civil war veteran seems to have been pretty certain the thieves were not Apache, because he headed straight for Tombstone. He arrived there on 24 July, seeking out the federal authority, the Deputy United States' Marshal. His name was Virgil Earp.
The McLaury boys - there were 8 of them and 3 girls - were all short and well educated. Their father had been a judge back in Iowa, and all the boys studied law. What interrupted the father's dreams and defined the son's lives was 5 years of bloodletting. Like all wars, the American Civil War left a "lost" generation in its wake - traumatized, emotionally drained, and in varying degrees feeling abused, cheated and betrayed. Only the eldest son, Will, went on to pass the bar. He started his law practice as a carpetbagger in Fort Worth, Texas. His younger brothers, Tom and 33 year old Robert Findley "Frank" McLaury, had intended upon joining him. But in 1878 the lure of quick money around the Tombstone silver strike distracted Frank and Tom McLaury to the Arizona desert.
Marshal Virgil Earp (above) was certain any white thieves could most likely be found in the violent little mill town of Charleston.  He sent a telegraph to an informant there - Dave Estes - and looking for safety in numbers he brought along popular Tombstone town marshal Fred White, as well his own deputized brothers Morgan and Wyatt Earp. On Sunday morning all nine men rode the 8 miles west to where Dave Estes suggested the mules could be found, south of Charleston,  on the west bank of the San Pedro River, along Babocomari creek - on the McLaury ranch.
There were six mules in the corral. Outnumbered, 5 foot 4 inch tall Frank McLaury (above) allowed the animals to be inspected. The brands on their left hind quarters read "D.S.", however the uneven nature of the wounds made it obvious to a skeptic that the brand had been recently altered from "U.S.". The inspection strengthened Lt. Hurst's resolve to reclaim the mules. However Tom McLaury's temper abruptly changed the conversation. Even though he had never met the Earps before - Tom rarely went into Tombstone - he pointed at them and warned, "If they ever again follow us as close as you did, they will have a fight!" As usual Frank stepped in to calm his brother, while neighboring ranch owner Frank Patterson took over the negotiations.
Lieutenant Joseph Hurst was no naive West Point shave tail, easily frightened by threats. He'd been on the frontier for years. Before that he had risen in the ranks in the Army of the Potomac, promoted to first lieutenant for bravery at Fredricksburg in 1863, wounded at Chancellorsville, and again at Spottsylvania Courthouse in 1864.  But he also knew that as a military officer he could not seize the mules, nor arrest civilians. Marshall Virgil Earp could do both, but to arrest the volcanic Tom seemed to run the risk of bloodshed. So Hurst allowed himself to be convinced that Frank McLaury would return the mules later, after Tom McLaury had been distracted. Hurst informed the Earps of his decision and the mule rescue party returned to Tombstone without the mules. However, the next morning, before he returned to Camp Rucker,  Hurst warned Virgil Earp of Tom McLaury's threat.
The delay raises the question of why Hurst did not warn Virgil at the McLaury ranch. It seems likely to me, that the Lieutenant sized up Marshall Earp pretty quickly as another hot head, and realized that Tom McLaury's belligerent threat might very well have pushed the Marshall to confrontation. And the 4 men Lt. Hurst was directly responsible for were not trained or armed for a free for all gun fight. The Earps would later imply that Hurst had been duped by Patterson and Frank McLaury. But I suspect Joseph Hurst just decided 6 mules were not worth his men's lives.  But whatever agreement Lt. Hurst thought had been reached, the mules were not returned.
Not that Hurst could allow the matter to drop. In a notice posted in the Friday, 30 July 1880 edition of the Tombstone Epitaph, the Lieutenant offered $35 for the return of the mules and $25 for the arrest of the thieves, whom he identified as "Pony" Diehl, Augustus S. Hansbrough and Sherman MacMasters. Then he went further, accusing Frank Patterson, Frank McLaury and Jim Johnson of hiding the stolen property. Pointedly he did not challenge Tom McLaury.  Frank respond a week later, in the Thursday, 5 August edition of the rival Tombstone Daily Nugget. Frank claimed to have assured the Army Lieutenant, "I would do what I could to assist him. In the course of the next day I saw Diehl...Diehl replied that he knew nothing of the stock...and I interested myself no farther about it."
But Frank McLaury added that Lieutenant Hurst was "...a coward, a vagabond, a rascal, and a malicious liar." Frank even suggested that Hurst might have stolen and sold the mules himself. "My name is well known in Arizona," Frank wrote, "and thank God that this is the first time in my life that the name of dishonesty was ever attached to me..." Having delivered that line with a straight face, Frank managed to avoid mentioning the central secret which supported the Tombstone money machine - most of the beef consumed daily by the miners of Tombstone, was stolen, and most of that from Sonora. In fact the closest allies and neighbors of the McLaury brothers were the owners of one of most successful ranches in southern Arizona, and thus the one of the largest dealers in stolen beef - the Clantons.
The large Clanton family trickled into Arizona beginning in 1873, by way of Tennessee, Texas and California. They might have stayed in the last two states if they had been willing to fight. Instead both times Newman Hayes "Old Man" Clanton (above) chose the smarter approach and moved his family on.  As the Tombstone mines began drawing hungry miners, in 1877, "Old Man" Clanton took the opportunity to move into moving cattle, even introducing Sonora rustling to his new neighbors, Tom and Frank McLaury.  Where both McLaury brothers were short and dark, the Clantons were tall and described by one who knew them as, "..true blondes (who) rode tall in the saddle...extremely handsome ...and very affable..." And under the calming guidence of the "Old Man", they built a hill top adobe near Lewis Springs, about 5 miles south of Charleston, and 12 miles west of Tombstone. From there "Old Man Clanton" could see for miles in the dry desert air.  No lawmen would ever get the drop on them the way Lt. Hurst and the Earps had surprised the McLaury brothers.
By 1880 "Old Man" Clanton was 64 years old but still active and successful. Most of the labor on the Clanton Arizona ranch was done by second son,  35 year old Phineas "Phin" Fay Clanton, who had several arrests for rustling but no convictions. These days Phin stayed close to the ranch, along with his brother-in-law August M. Smith. Meanwhile both 33 year old Joseph Isaac "Ike" Clanton and 18 year old William Harrison "Billy" Clanton  (above) were well known, if not always welcomed in Charleston, Tombstone, and Sonora.
Newman Hayes Clanton's (above) rustling empire was doing so well,  the Old Man needed legitimate businesses to launder his profits, That November he purchased a house and a saloon in Charleston, on Pioneer Street. 
And with John Peters "Johnny" Ringo (above) he claimed  320 acres in the Animas Valley, New Mexico, at a site called San Simon Cienega. Their stated intent was to grow alfalfa as feed for cattle. It all tied together into what was called the "rustlers trail". 
Running across arid desert from watering hole to watering hole, this production line of stolen beef began at the northern mouth of Guadalupe Canyon on the Sonora border, headed north up the Animas Valley,  then on to the eastern slopes of the Chiricahuas mountains, west through Skeleton Canyon (or Tex canyon) into Arizona, across Sulphur Springs Valley to the Dragoon Mountains, through the South Pass near Tombstone, then southwest to the Soldiers "water" Hole and right to the back door to the Clanton Ranch at the eastern foot of the Huachuca Mountains.
Gathered together in this enterprise were a hardy and hard group of entrepreneurs referred to as the "Cowboys of Cochise County " - Charles "Pony Diehl" Ray,  his life long friend Sherman McMasters.  alcoholic marksman "Curly Bill" Brocius (above),  30 year old John Peters "Johnny" Ringo...
...Billy "The Kid" Claiborne (above), Harry "The Kid" Head, the nervous Billy "The Kid" Grounds, the unlucky Richard "Zwing" Hunt...
... 23 year old occasional lawman Frank Stillwell (above), 30 year old ex-Texas Ranger Elliot Larkin Ferguson AKA Pete Spence, William "Bill" Lang,  Stagecoach robber  and ex-jewelry store owner "Notorious" Jim Crane, gregarious and dangerous Florentino Cruz, Richard "Dixie Lee Grey", Charlie Snow, Bill Byers and gunman Scott Cooley - among others.
Rightly or wrongly, these men would be cast as villains in the story of the October 1881 Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. A few weeks after the 1880 confrontation on their ranch, the McLaury brothers spotted Marshal Virgil Earp on the streets of Charleston.  Tom McLaury made it a point to challenge the lawman once again, repeating now in person the threat he had made to Lt. Hurst. Thus the unresolved confrontation over  6 stolen army mules set the McLaury's on a collision course with the Earp family.
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Thursday, February 16, 2017


I know what the cowboy Jim Hughs was thinking that July afternoon, of 1881. He was thinking he was about to get very, very rich. He was a hand on the Clanton Ranch 12 miles outside of Tombstone, and experienced in the rustling parties that stole cattle in Sonora, Mexico, and sold them to the butchers in Arizona. But this hot afternoon, he was after not after beef, but silver. On the trail below, 15 riders were leading 30 burros northward through the narrow confines of Skeleton Canyon. On the burros' backs Jim Hughs believed was either $75,000 or $40,000 or $2,500 worth of silver Mexican Peos. Unfortunately Hughes and his little gang of desperate rustlers had not thought to ask one simple question. Where had all that silver come from?
All Mexican legal tender was produced by 11 privitley operated mints, such as the large one in Hermosillo, Sonora. They bought refined ore directly from mines and converted it into silver and gold centavos and pesoes  (above) of various denominations. In 1884 the United States Treasury Department cautioned potential investors in Mexico, "The bulk and weight of silver currency is a serious embarresment." That was putting it mildly. The report went on to explain, "...grouped around the doors and enterances of the principle banking houses, professional porters...gain a livilihood by carrying loads of coins....from one part of the city to another." The weight of the silver meant commerce in Sonora would only move as fast as men and burros could carry it. And spies could travel much faster than that - faster even than a man could dream.
By 1881 there were close to 6,000 miners north of the border in Arizona, following the silver veins beneath the Tombstone Hills, and extracting and refining the ore had become only the second most difficult task in mining. The greater challenge was feeding the miners. Vegetables and fruit spoiled within minutes in the 100 degree temperatures. Canned goods had been available for almost a century, but the double seal can, which was truly air tight, would not be invented until 1888.  It was still common, particularly in the desert, to open cans only to find spoiled food inside. That left Tombstone miners surviving on sourdough bread, potatoes and legumes - all of which required scarce water to prepare. And then there was meat.
The story told by Jim Hughes, was that he had been sitting in a Sonoran cantina when he overheard members of the "Estrada Gang" celebrating a successful raid on the town of Monterrey. Amid the boasts about banks robbed and churches looted, the bandits planned to transport their booty across the border for safe keeping in the United States.  As unlikely as the details of this story may be, it was clear that Jim Hughes heard something about a silver caravan and hurried north to the hilltop Clanton ranch. There he informed Billy Clanton, and an ambush party quickly formed.
A cow had the advantage of delivering its self to the kitchen back door. By 1880 there were 8,000 cattle along the San Pedro River Valley, north of the border.  But it took 100 acres of sparse Arizona mesquite and prickly pear, and 2 to 3 years to raise a cow to slaughtering age. Writing for the short lived Tombstone Daily Nugget, columnist Richard Rule admitted the unpleasant truth, "There is no doubt that most of the cattle sold in the vicinity of Tombstone... are stolen.". Rustlers were the most successful ranchers in Arizona, a state of affairs encouraged because the businessmen and women of Tombstone had little incentive to inquire as to the source of the beef, only its price. Continued the observant Mr. Rule, "A good many of the cowboys...live in the guise of simple cattle farmers. Those who make a business of stealing...have a pretty good reputation". The fundamental advantage - and flaw - of capitalism, is that people ask few questions as to where your money came from, only how much you have. And the more money you have, the fewer questions they are inclined to ask. And that rule was about to begin working against the rustlers.
Just about the time Jim Hughes was taking a bead on the bandits in Skeleton Canyon, life long corporate railroad man William Barstow Strong  (above) was being promoted to President of the Boston based "Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe" railroad.  His advancement was a reward for his dedication to the corporate goal of reaching a Pacific port. 
The problem was the Southern Pacific railroad controlled all rail lines and ports in California. And beginning in 1876, the Big Four owners of the SP had even laid rails east along the 32nd parallel from San Diego, reaching Tuscon, Arizona in 1880 and crossing the San Pedro River at Benson. Southern Pacific President Charles Crocker could boast, "The earnings we have achieved since reaching Tuscon have been great"  The SP had reached El Paso, Texas in May of 1881. Faced with this road block, the resourceful Mr. Strong had cast his eyes upon the broiling Sonoran port of Guaymas.
As the Mexican riders reached a formation called the Devil's Kitchen, near the New Mexico entrance of  Skeleton Canyon (above, left center),  Hugh's finger tightened around the trigger of his rifle. His shot was instantly joined by the gun shots of his 8 partners Six of the Mexicans fell in the first volley. However, the noise panicked the burros, and they bolted. So the Americans switched targets.
What William Strong promised new Mexican President Porfirio Diaz in 1877 was that railroads would bind his nation together. Under Mexican subsidiaries, and funded by Mexican government subsidies, the AT&SF built the Mexican Central Line, which drove 800 miles north from Mexico City to the Rio Grande River where it connected with the AT&SF in El Paso Texas. 
At the same time Strong's Sonora Railroad started in Guaymas on the gulf of California, and headed 900 miles east toward the Central Line in Monterrey.  But from the moment the Sonora Railroad reached the state capital of Hermosillo - in December of 1880 - profits tempted the construction north, 175 miles to the American border, where it could connect with an 88 mile long spur of the AT&SF, the New Mexico and Arizona Railroad, which would reach the mill town of Fairbank, Arizona, just 9 miles from Tombstone, in 1882.
When the smoke cleared there were 25 burros, dead or screaming in the narrow canyon. The 11 remaining Mexican riders surrendered. According to the legend the Americans climbed down the canyon walls and silenced the wounded animals. And then they executed the human witnesses. And only then did the realization slowly dawn upon the cowboys that they now had now way getting the silver out of the canyon. Legend claims they buried the hoard, intending on returning to fetch it later. But my guess is, there was very little silver in the burro's loads. The ambush had been a bust.
By the hot dry summer of 1881, the mining town of Tombstone and its satellites of Fairbank, Charleston, Contention and Bisbee (above), were close enough to the rail lines that not only could silver ore make its way out, but luxury goods and cattle could make their way in. And there were 8,000 cows now being raised in the San Pedro Valley, and the railroads were able to deliver beefier cows to within miles of the Tombstone mines. And these were not the scrawny hardy Texas longhorns but heftier, blooded stock fed on the rich grasses from wetter climes. Even though 6% of the cattle could be expected to die en route, the price per pound delivered by rail lowered the profit margin for the rustlers, and promised to soon drive them out of business.
Just about a month after the Skeleton Canyon massacre -  on Thursday, 11 August, 1881 -  7 Americans camped for the night just south of the Mexico border, in Sonora, in Guadalupe Canyon. Historians and western affectionadoes still argue about what these venture capitalists were doing on such a popular smuggling route, at the junction of three jurisdictions - Arizona, New Mexico and Sonora, old Mexico. But the simplest explanation seems the most likely. They had invested their sweat equity in stealing 80 head of cattle in Sonora, and were  driving them back to the United States to sell and butcher them, thus destroying the evidence.
During the night the cattle were restless, and the leader, Newman Hays "Old Man" Clanton (above), sent Harry Ernshaw and Billy Byers out to guard the herd. 
Just at dawn, on the morning of Friday, 13 August 1881, the two men rode back into camp, where Newman Clanton had started breakfast. Charley Snow,  19  year old Dixie Lee" Gray and Billy Lang, were just waking up.   But James Crane were still in his bedroll, having arrived the night before.  Greeting the returning men as they dismounted, Charley Snow heard something the others missed, and started to draw his gun. That was the signal for the ambush to explode. Snow was killed by the first shot. Gunfire then cut down Old Man Clanton as he bent over the campfire. 
Billy Byers started to run, "...but had not gone forty feet when I was shot across my body, but I didn’t fall, and in a few more steps was hit in my arm, knocked the pistol out of my hand and I fell down.” Harry Ernshaw and Billy Lang  (above) sought cover behind a bush, before trying to run as well. Billy Lang was shot dead and Harry was wounded, a bullet slicing off part of his nose. But he kept running. Young "Dixie Lee" Gray was hit three times in the chest and died on his bedroll.
Byers later told the Tombstone Nugget, "When I saw the Mexicans begin stripping the bodies, I took off what clothes I had, even my finger ring, and lay stretched out with my face down, and as I was all bloody from my wounds...they never touched me, but as one fellow passed me on horseback he fired several shots at me, one grazing the side of my head, and the others striking my side, throwing the dirt over me. But I kept perfectly still and he rode on.”
Harry Ernshaw made it on foot 15 miles north to the new Gray ranch in the Animus mountains where Dixie Lee's older brother John was waiting. They returned the next morning with a wagon and 20 men. They found Billy Byers wounded and delirious, wandering in the desert. Charley Snow's body had been scavenged and was buried where it lay. The bodies of Old Man Clanton, Dixie Lee Gray and James Crane  were all loaded on the wagon and carried to the Gray Ranch were they were buried. The anarchy at the border had reached a new level.  
If it was not clear before to the rustlers and thieves in and around Tombstone, Arizona, it was certainly clear now. My guess is that just before he died, Old Man Clanton, thought that life was getting very hard for an unrestrained capitalist in this part of the country.
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