"Hey, you know where I can get a horse," the man asked. "I need a good one."
"I'm not from around here. All I can do is give you a ride to Roswell if you want."
"That's good," the man answered and then stood there for a long moment.
"Go around," the boy told him, making a motion for the man to go to the passenger-side door. He couldn't believe how strangely the man acted. When the man got to the other side, he grabbed awkwardly for the door handle but had trouble opening the door. The boy opened it from the inside.
After the car got going, the man started staring out the windows in amazement, "Hey, this thing really goes fast, doesn't it? I can't believe it." The car still hadn't reached 40 miles per hour.
"This isn't fast at all. It can really go if I step on it."
"I can't believe it," the stranger exclaimed as he kept staring out the window.
The boy started to regret having stopped. The man was completely covered with dust and was undoubtedly going to leave the seat of his spotless Z-28 very dirty. He acted so strangely that the boy wondered whether he might be on drugs. He appeared to be in his 20's. After a period of silence, the boy said, "My name's George Lobato," holding out his right hand.
The stranger acted reserved but held out his hand and said, "My name is William Bonney."
"Pleased to meet you," the boy said with a smile. After a pause he noted out loud, "William Bonney? Hey, that was Billy the Kid's name."
"Yeah, that's what some people call me."
"It must be hard going through life with people making fun of you for trying to impersonate Billy the Kid," George pointed out jokingly.
"What do you mean 'trying to impersonate'? I am Billy the Kid."
George didn't say anything more, just looked straight ahead. The stranger was clearly miffed at the attempted humor. After a period of silence, the man said, "You don't think I'm really Billy the Kid, do you?"
"Well, the last I'd heard was that he died about a hundred years ago." George now wondered why it was his luck to pick up some guy who had escaped from a mental institution.
"What year is this?" The man asked, looking perfectly sincere.
"1981."
"1981! My God, no wonder. I, I . . . That's what happened. I rose from the dead . . . this morning. No wonder. I looked for Luke Maxwell's place and couldn't find it. I couldn't find anything. I know you don't believe me. How could you? Listen, the last memories I have are of Ft. Sumner. I must have died there. Take me back there."
"They say Pat Garrett shot you there. Your grave is supposed to be there. It's even on maps." George didn't want to do it, but he thought it would be an opportunity to go back and get rid of the guy. Maybe they could find the institution the man had escaped from. He wasn't in any hurry to get back home. It was still summer vacation and he had nothing pressing.
In Ft. Sumner they followed the signs, which were well marked to Billy's gravesite. There were gravestones for Billy and some of his gang members. The one for Billy was overturned with a large hole in the ground next to it that looked freshly opened. "I don't remember coming out of there. The first thing I remember is walking down that road over there."
George thought of how the man was covered with dirt and of how he kept talking very naturally about what had happened back in the 1880's and mentioning names like John Tunstall, Alexander McSween, the Dolan Gang. George was familiar with these names because he had read about them in books by Leon Metz in preparing a report for school. After listening for over an hour to the man's explanations, George started to believe the stranger could be telling the truth. He was generally skeptical about most things, but he had the feeling he could at least look into this more closely. As they walked back to the car, he started asking questions.
"If you're Billy the Kid, you ought to be able to clear up a lot of questions people have had about you all these years," he started. "Like, who shot Tunstall and did Pat Garrett shoot you in the back?"
As they drove back, the man told George in detail what had led up to the wars and went on to answer all the questions George had. He answered them so well, that George thought the man might truly be Billy the Kid.
"So where are you planning to go?" George asked. He was acting much more relaxed and friendly toward Billy who also seemed relaxed.
"Well, I'd like to get to Lincoln eventually. That's why I was wanting to get me a horse."
"Listen, don't worry about getting a horse. I'll give you a ride into Lincoln. It's not too far out of my way."
"If it ain't too much trouble, I'd appreciate it. Where you going?"
"I'm going to El Paso. That's where I live with my mother. I was just visiting my father in Ft. Sumner."
After two hours, they became hungry and stopped at a Burger King in Roswell. They went in as Billy kept staring at many things he was not familiar with like the straw dispenser from which he unintentionally extracted five straws before he realized it. Most of them rolled to the floor. George was overjoyed with having been the first to run into Billy the Kid after his rise from the dead. They were sitting at a booth near the counter.
"Hey, this is Billy the Kid," George blurted out to one of the attendants behind the counter.
"Shut up," Billy said in a firm but low voice as he grabbed George's arm. "Can't you see I'm still a wanted man." The attendant just looked at them for a few seconds and went on with his work. "I've killed a lot of men, you know," Billy continued. "I didn't get shot for nothing, and I'm sure they'll be after me again."
"Oh, don't worry about that," George assured him. "They won't do anything to you now. Man, you're a hero. There's been books and all kinds of movies made about you and there's even a big company that makes pants that was named after you."
"Ah, come on."
"It's true."
"Why would they want to do that for if I killed all those people?" Billy asked with a look of bewilderment. "I'm supposed to be bad."
"I don't know. People just think you were cool, I guess."
George had agreed to drive Billy to Lincoln, but then he asked, "What's the use of you going back to Lincoln anyway. There's not going to be anybody left that you know. Why don't you come on back with me to El Paso, and you can stay at my house until you figure out what to do next?"
"I guess maybe you're right," Billy answered pensively. "I hadn't even thought about that. I'd still like to go by and see what it looks like, though."
When they arrived in Lincoln, Billy didn't recognize any of the buildings except for the old county courthouse. He had once escaped from the jail in it after killing two of the guards. He did, however, immediately point out locations where buildings had stood, like the McSween house, which was confirmed by a memorial marker placed on the site. They didn't stay long before starting the drive to El Paso.
The first thing George did when they arrived in El Paso was to drive by the building that had the offices of Billy the Kid, Incorporated, on Mesa Street. It was several stories high and on one side near the top was the name "Billy the Kid" in large, gold metal-block letters.
"See, I told you you were famous," George exclaimed. Billy looked at the sign in disbelief. "You don't have to worry about anything. People like you."
"I don't know. People are funny sometimes."
They got to George's house at 2 in the morning after everyone else was asleep. When George's mother saw Billy sleeping on the living room couch after she got up at 7, she was startled but went to work without asking anyone any questions. That night when George told her it was Billy the Kid, she wouldn't believe it, but then said she didn't want him there even if he was a very polite young man. George told her he hadn't tried to rob him on the whole trip down and that there wouldn't be any problems.
George showed Billy the report he had written about him in high school along with copies of old magazine articles and newspaper clippings he had collected for it. He also had a book about him entitled The Saga of Billy the Kid, and he played him a record album entitled John Wesley Hardin by Bob Dylan. He took Billy to the library and a bookstore and showed him more books about him. Billy definitely believed George now but still appeared incredulous.
"I'm going to have to get me some money. I wonder what kind of work I could find?" Billy questioned.
"You know, I was just thinking, you could make a lot of money. I mean a lot of money. We just have to talk to the right people. They could write more books about you and personal interviews and maybe even a movie. They pay real good money for all those things. Hell, you could get rich."
"I wouldn't mind that at all," Billy answered.
"The first thing we've got to do is go down to the newspaper," George said very excitedly. Billy asked a lot of questions about the many strange things he saw. He was adjusting to the new surroundings quickly.
When they went in to the combined offices of the two newspapers in El Paso to talk to reporters, everyone said they were busy. Finally one reporter with the Herald-Post, who said he knew a little about the history of the West, sat down to talk with them although with a slight smirk on his face. He asked several questions, obviously trying to trip Billy up and started to perk up when he got some very detailed answers.
"I'd like to have you talk to one or two experts on the Old West to see what they think," announced the reporter who was in his fifties. "I suppose we might at least write a story about someone trying to say he's Billy the Kid."
The next day they went to Leon Metz, who had written several books on the people of the Old West including Pat Garrett. He talked to Billy for half a day and couldn't get him to contradict himself. He arranged to have other historians talk to Billy either in person or over the phone. Nobody could catch him in a lie. He seemed to know everything in detail, and even came up with answers to questions people had asked since Billy died.
After the story spread nationwide, promoters, agents, magazine editors, writers, and advertising people started calling Billy. Billy was confused with the barrage of offers and deals he was confronted with. George and the reporter who had first interviewed him tried to help him handle the situation. They finally had Billy stop answering any inquiries and told the callers who had any deal to offer that they would be contacted later.
Eventually after things had calmed down, they started making appointments for agents and movie producers to talk to Billy. In the meantime a song came out about him and about how he was basically a good, peaceful boy who had been driven to violence.
"They say you killed 21 men. How did it feel to kill that many men?" asked one magazine writer who came to talk to him.
"It gave me a real feeling of power after awhile," Billy answered matter of factly.
It was not long before a total of eight magazine articles appeared about him of which three consisted of long interviews he had given. He signed contracts to help three authors write separate biographies and entered another deal to play himself in a movie. One thing that befuddled Billy was how the two magazines that printed the most about him, The National Enquirer and The Star, never interviewed him once. He couldn't believe some of the things they said--that he was in contact with other famous people who had died long ago or that he had been sent back to earth from hell by Satan!
"I told you it would be O.K. Nobody's going to put you in jail," George said happily.
"Yea, I guess you were right. I'm sure glad I ran into you. I would've never imagined they would be this nice to me. If I hadn't met you, I would've been hiding out and probably starving somewhere. I might have had to rustle a few head of cattle or something."
Billy soon went to live near Hollywood where he could be close to both the studio making the movie as well as people like his agent and his lawyer. He got himself an agent who found him a palatial two-story home in Beverly Hills and a Rolls-Royce with a chauffeur. In between working in the movie, Billy made some television commercials, including one in which he was shown as an energetic, successful person who drank coffee. Of course, he made one for jeans made by Billy the Kid, Inc., although the company had trouble coming up with the money since it was not in very good financial condition.
Billy didn't speak many lines in the movie about himself because the director found it hard to teach him to act. Instead the most visible character was Charles Bowdre, Billy's right hand man in the gang. Pat Garrett, the lawman who eventually killed Billy, was second in amount of lines spoken. Billy was portrayed as a quiet, young man caught up in his thoughts and plans. The movie became the hottest selling picture in 10 years in spite of having critics almost unanimously pan it.
The Billy the Kid fad became bigger than the fad of another Western legend, Davy Crockett, had been in 1955. He was treated in many ways like a big rock star. There were "Billy boots" and "Billy gear," clothes which were naturally western style. Tall hats like the one he wore in the famous picture taken of him when he first lived became very popular. Billy the Kid, Inc. eventually became a booming business.
The furor lasted for two years and then died very quickly. Billy had been the center of attention in all the media across the world and had been a constant focus of attraction at endless parties and events. Now suddenly he found himself all alone. The only one with whom he had regular contact was George who had continued to keep in touch with him, mainly by telephone. George had stayed in El Paso to finish college but had come out to visit on two occasions. He always listened well and gave helpful suggestions, but now even George couldn't help him get out of a depression that set in. Billy had also made much less money than he had expected. One reason was that he had signed contracts for much less than he would have gotten had he known what he was doing. He had also lost money to financial advisers with investment schemes that were supposed to make him a lot of money and had built up a huge debt on credit cards because for a long time he had not understood how they worked.
He tried to figure out what went wrong. He even tried to think if it had been something he had said or done that made people suddenly dislike him. George tried to explain to him that it was nothing like that. He tried to tell him the way fads worked but Billy didn't understand it very well. Then Billy had an idea on how to get back in the spotlight. It was so obvious to him that it would work. He marveled at its simplicity. Unfortunately he didn't tell George or anyone else about his plan.
Three years later.
"Man, I might as well have stayed in my grave," Billy ran his fingers through his hair as he talked to George. He looked more bewildered than ever. "I just haven't been able to figure it out. I thought people said I was a hero because I killed all those people before."
"I don't know," replied George in a helpless tone. "People are strange." They were sitting in the visiting room at Santa Ana prison with Billy on the prisoner side of the glass divider and George on the other. Billy was on death row awaiting execution. He had killed three people.
"You see," he explained, "my plan was to kill them and get people to pay some attention to me again. I didn't want all the attention I had before, but I wasn't getting any and I wanted to be at least a little popular again. I thought people didn't mind me killing."
"You definitely shouldn't have killed those celebrities."
"Well, the ones I killed were ones that seemed to like murderers and thieves, like that writer who wrote about me and other books on violence and murderers and that singer who sang songs about outlaws. What was his name?"
"Bob Dylan."
"Yeah. What I really didn't like was that he named that album after John Wesley Hardin. Hell, Hardin was no big deal."
After a pause, "The thing is, Billy, people get pretty angry about crime. Most people are in favor of capital punishment, you know."
"And that's another thing. I could see them maybe punishing me, but I just can't see them putting me away, as much as they seemed to like me."
