R.B. Colby Gunfighter Lawman Myth (A Collection of Western Stories)

By W. H. Beswick

There are historical records that imply R.B. Colby did exist. He was a federal marshal for quite a few years. There are many stories about R.B. Colby. The author has decided most of this stories were questionable or just out and out lies. The biggest problem was that unlike other gunfighters. Colby didn't like to brag. These are stand alone stories. They are all connecct by the man called R.B. Colby ave collected more believeable stories in this volume. Some of these men rode with the man. Others make reference to him. The author asks. Could a man be this fast with a gun be overlooked by Western Historiians.

• Language: English
• Publisher: W. H. Beswick
• Release date: Jan 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215330852

W. H. Beswick

Lives in Corvallis Oregon

Book preview

R.B. COLBY: GUNFIGHTER LAWMAN OR MYTH

(A COLLECTION OF WESTERN STORIES)

BY

W.H. BESWICK

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ALL CHARA This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smash-words.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

FOR BRUCE KIRBY WHO LIKES STORIES ABOUT COWBOYS, GUNFIGHTERS AND OUTLAWS. I HOPE HE LIKES THESE.

FOREWORD

The intention of the author was to write a factual and accurate account of the man known as R.B. Coby. There are many stories surrounding the man, his life, his speed with a pistol, accuracy with a rifle, along with incredible tracking skills. There were rumors he was well-read, and he spoke Spanish and enough Comanche to get by. I was going to call this R.B. COLBY: GUNFIGHTER, but my research revealed the man never hired out his gun. At least, not in traditional sense. He did serve as a federal marshal, sheriff, and was, for a time, a bounty hunter. From what I learned about the man, he did bounty hunting only when he was desperate for money.

It is rumored that, for a time, he actually lived among the Comanche or Ute tribes. This was supposedly where he learned his tracking skills and acquired the name Hands of Lightning.

The biggest difficulty in researching Coby was he spent most of his life drifting around through several states and dozens of towns. I did discover he was born in Texas but rarely went back there. I suspect this was to protect his family. He had two brothers and a sister. The most interesting thing I discovered was R.B. Coby wasn’t his real name. There appears to be no record of his real name. The author assumes he did this to protect the family. The first story does deal with his first gunfight. I found countless records and eye witness accounts for this incident. He was not using the name Coby at this time. Rather than guess at his real name, I have avoided using the name Coby. I was able to trace back the events from the story to the small town. This was how I was able to confirm he was born in Texas. That was a far as I got. In later stories, Colby appears to have some dealings with makers of the Colt .45. For some reason the company will neither confirm nor deny this.

Because of the lack of actual eye witnesses and written accounts, the author came to the conclusion that it was almost impossible to write an actual biography of R.B. Coby. I could not even find one photograph of the man. Apparently there were at least three or four, but I have not be able to find them - or the Colt Firearms company refuses to make them public, for some reason.

As we now know, a great many of the stories written by about gunfighters and outlaws have been exaggerated or are just complete lies.

As for the stories about R.B. Coby, these are a jumbled mess of stories that make the man almost mythological, while other stories show him to be quite human with bouts of depression. This could be because of the nomadic and lonely life he chose to live. It should be noted he never developed the love of whiskey and cards that most men of his kind did.

The other problem was, unlike other gunfighters like Wyatt Earp, Doc Holiday, Jesse James, Luke Short and the Sundance Kid (these men were more than happy to talk about their exploits to anyone who would listen) Colby seems to avoid talking about himself, doing so to very few people and definitely not any kind of reporter or writer. I suspect he did endorse the Colt pistol. For this I am sure he was well paid. Once again, Colt supposedly possesses pictures of him using the legendary pistol but, as stated the author, they didn’t even return my calls or e-mails. There are books about the man but, like most stories written at that time, the events are more fiction than fact. It should be noted: R.B. Coby did not seem to have strong relationships with any of the more famous gunmen at that time. He had been placed in Tombstone but seemed not to have taken part in the actions of the Earps. He was also in Deadwood, Dodge City, and several other infamous towns.

Wild Bill Hickok claimed to have ridden with Colby for a time. He claimed he had a fast draw contest with Colby and won. It should be noted he was drunk when making this claim. The author thinks this unlikely. Everything I have researched about the man reveals he didn’t feel the need to show off his talent with a pistol.

I have found stories about lesser known gunfighters and women who knew Colby. Some actually rode with him for a time. I suspect the reader will point out all these men and women are not mentioned in the history of Wild West. All the author can say is: these men and women were just not around when certain historical events took place. Like Coby, they didn’t like to brag.

So history seems to have passed them over, which I gather they would be fine with.

I have gathered together these stories to given a glimpse of the man many considered the fastest gun in the west. The reader will note I have not included any recount of the gunfight where Coby outdrew and killed twelve men with two pistols. Most of the stories of this nature I considered unbelievable. These even may be true, but I have chosen to not include them for lack of evidence. I have included one story where R.B. Colby may have killed multiple men in a saloon shootout. This story had been confirmed by multiple witness, a few newspaper articles, and the urging of my editor. I have to admit there is a grave with Colby’s name, but his fancy holster and black Colt seemed to have disappeared. Most likely in a private collection somewhere in the world.

The first and last stories will actually feature Coby as the main character, the first being about his first gunfight. The last is more of a hopeful tale about a man who seems to have spent most of his life alone.

The reader will note all these stories take place during the late 1800s. The author has chosen these stories because there are records of all these events. The other reason is, these stories take place when the age of the gunfighter was coming to an end. Battles over land and water were starting to be fought by lawyers in courtrooms. I have to admit, I am not sure this was a good thing, considering the way the courts and law are today…

Thank you for taking the time to read this book.

CHAPTER ONE

THE BEGINNING

The author was able to piece together enough evidence that this event did actually happen. Granted, I have taken liberties with the conversations and some interaction. This has been confirmed the first known R.B. Colby use of a pistol. It should be noted, he was not using the name Colby at this time.

The cowboy, who couldn’t been more than eighteen, stood at the edge of the camp. There were a cook’s wagon and a couple of men sitting around a fire. They drank coffee, talking about the day and what they would do when they reached home.

The cowboy was wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat that had seen better days. He was looking out at the small town off in the distance. Like most cowboys, he wore no holster and had no pistol shoved into his pants. He glanced back when a taller and more muscular black man approached.

Joseph was a good head taller than the cowboy. His blue shirt and fur-lined jacket, despite his size, hung loose on his large frame. He was wearing a dark blue hat with a brim. It was the only piece of his uniform left of when he had been a buffalo soldier. He was an older man with a bald head. His mustache was thick and sprinkled with grey. He kicked the dirt and asked, You worried about your paw?

Yes, they should have been back by now, the cowboy said, taking off his hat and wiping is forehead. He needed to buy a new hat. Not because it old and worn; he didn’t really care for this one, but his mother had given to him.

Most of the men aren’t back yet?

Most of the men will spending their money on drinks, games in the saloon, and on the ladies who work there. Paw and Saul just drink and get into fights.

That they do.

I am going to take a ride into town, the cowboy said with a sigh. "They probably passed out somewhere.

I think I will join you, Joseph said.

You worried I will get into trouble? he said, looking at Joseph and smiling.

No sir, I am worried that your paw and brother have gotten themselves into trouble. Like you said, they do like to drink and pick fights.

It was about a half hour later, the two men rode into town. It was really nothing more than ten or twelve buildings facing each other, a dirt road between them still a little muddy from the last rain. There was a general store, blacksmith, and other small businesses. The three biggest buildings were the two saloons and brothel. All lined up together. Just outside of town was tall water tower. There were three hitching posts, each with a water trough under the crossbar sitting in front of these buildings. Horses crowded around the hitching it.

The cowboy and Joseph rode up to the saloons, recognizing some of the horses. They were about to debate which saloon to look in first. Before they could decide, the sound of people yelling caught their attention.

A little ways up the street gathered a small crowd of people standing around something. They were yelling and waving.

What do you think that is about? Joseph asked.

I think there is are men lying in the street, the cowboy said. His bored look turned to concern. Let’s take a look.

I reckon we should.

The two men rode up, tied their horses to the hitching post, and walked toward the crowd. It was then the cowboy spotted the white, flat-brimmed hat with the high crown. It was the colorful band that caught his attention. He ran to the crowd, pushed his way to the front, and looked down.

There was an older man with a thick beard, face weathered from a hard outdoor life. His nose looked like had been broken at least once. He was wearing jeans, a duster, and a white shirt. The front of the shirt was soaked with blood. The younger man dropped to his knees and just stared at the body like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

You know this man, son? someone asked.

Joseph came up and looked down. He answered with sigh. That is his paw… He’s got a brother around here too.

There was a younger man lying beside him, someone said. He was still breathing. We took him over to the doc’s place.

My brother is alive? the cowboy said looking up. He looked confused for a moment.

You go see how your brother is doing, Joseph said. I’ll tend to your paw.

I’ll take you there, an older man said. Come on, boy.

Joseph helped the young man up. They looked at each other. The cowboy nodded and started to walk away but stopped. He looked down and said, My paw and brother don’t wear guns. Someone want to tell me how they got shot?

Son, they were drunk, the older man said. They picked a fight with the wrong men.

So these men just gunned them down, and nothing is done about it? the cowboy asked.

Let’s not go jumping to any conclusions, said a tall man wearing a black suit with a red vest. His flat-brimmed hat was titled down in front, which caused the upper part of his face to be shrouded, making the top of his face like a mask. A black, tooled holster hung around his waist, containing a silver pistol with a white handle. We haven’t had a chance to talk to some people. There could be a good explanation for this.

I would like to hear how a man with no gun gets shot dead in this town, the young cowboy said. If it’s not being called murder.

I suggest you go tend to your brother, the man said, pulling back his frock coat and revealing a tin star. I am the law in this town. I decide what is and what murder isn’t murder. Now move along.

You’re the law? You get elected?

Son, I would watch your mouth. Like your paw, you ain’t wearing a gun, the sheriff said, stroking the handle of his pistol like he was daring the young man to do something.

Come son, the other man said, putting his hand on the cowboy’s shoulder. Don’t make it worse than it is.

The cowboy gave the sheriff another look before letting the man pull him along. After they were a good distance away, he said, What kind of town is this? My paw and brother shot. The sheriff not going to do a thing about it.

That’s Sheriff Bob Kane, the old man said in a hushed tone. He is as not good with a gun as he thinks he is. But the man he works for is. That would be the outlaw Tom Born. He, along with his two brothers, run this town.

Four men run the whole town? How do they pull that off?

"Well son, we are off the beaten path here. I can’t remember when the federal marshal last came through. So they can pretty much do as they please. They are smart about it. They never touch any