The Day I Met Billy Smith

January 23, 1947

Somewhere in New Mexico

Lost!

Craning my neck in all four directions, north, south, east, and west, I didn’t see a single living thing in any direction I chose to look in, let alone any sign of human inhabitation. The sun was setting around a mesa in the west leaving long shadows in the dirt and rocks.

I sat on the floorboard of my truck and emptied the stones from my work boots. In less than an hour the entire world would be dark with nothing to light the landscape other than the stars and crescent moon. 

I was sunk. I had to have my load at the army base by oh-six hundred hours which I knew to be oh-dark thirty when I wore the uniform at Fort Dix, New Jersey. I felt the weight of my inexperience crushing down on me at that moment. Pulling a cigarette from my shirt pocket, I lit it. I only had two more left in the pack. Things were beginning to look rather bleak.  

When I finished my smoke, I tossed the butt into the gravel. This road had no name, just like all the others I had passed earlier in the evening. The map unfolded in the bench seat next to me had all of these roads clearly numbered, but no one thought to put signs matching the ones on the map.

I wanted to cry, but I knew I was twenty-two and I was taught, men ain’t supposed to cry. But I was also lost in the middle of nowhere with nothing to help me find my way either. 

So far, I had not found a single thing appealing about this part of the world. From everything I had seen in my four months in Santa Rosa, the land was dry and lifeless. After driving most of the day looking for signs to lead me to Alamogordo, I had given up and decided to camp here for the night. I had my jug of water, granted it wasn’t as cold as it was when I left this morning, but it was wet which was more than I could say for the rest of the place.  

Why did I think I was experienced enough to do this run on my own even if all the drivers were occupied with other assignments. I cleared the map off the bench and stretched out along the bench seat. It was comforting to know next to my water jug was my Louisville Slugger in case something came calling on me that I did not wish to deal with. I had heard horror stories told of some of the strange creatures who prowled the hills from Dale and some of the other drivers. I reached down and took hold of the wooden bat I would use if I ran across anything threatening me. Wrapping a threadbare blanket over my shoulders, I tried closing my eyes for some much-needed sleep.

I don’t know what time it was when I heard someone or something rapping on the cab door of the truck. Instantly, I grabbed my Louisville Slugger and sat up, “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” A voice sounded from the darkness outside.

“Who is me?” I tried not to let my teeth chatter.

“Billy. Billy Smith.” Came the squeaky answer.  

“I’m warning you that I am armed.” I held the bat to my cheek as I shook uncontrollably.  

“So am I.” His voice sounded closer. That’s when I knew he was standing on the floorboard outside the cab door. 

“With what?” I asked.

“My Colt .45.” He sounded agitated.

I reached down and turned the door handle which opened the door just a crack so I could see who the heck Billy Smith was. I could not believe my eyes when the light inside the cab fell on him. Barely five foot tall, Billy was an elfish man who looked as if he had fallen off of Santa Claus’ sleigh. Dressed in full cowboy regalia including the pistol he held in his left hand was Billy Smith. I had no way of knowing at the time, he was about to change my life.

“Are you alright, stranger?” He asked reholstering his pistol.

“Yeah…why?” I let the bat drop to the floor.

“Because I ain’t seen nothing but coyotes on this stretch of the highway.” He chuckled. “Is you lost?” 

“Could be.” I pouted.

“Son, where in tarnation is you headin’?” He squawked.

“Alamogordo.” I answered.

“Oh lawrdy, lord.” He laughed, “Y’all is about as far as you could get from there. Y’all headed in the wrong direction.” 

“I was looking for a short cut.” I sat up behind the steering wheel.

“This ain’t it.” He looked both ways and then looked directly at me, “I reckon you could use some friendly guidance. Wha’sa name, sonny?” 

“Grady.” I answered grudgingly, “Grady Lawson.” 

“You ain’t from around here, are ya?” He sighed.

“No, I’m not.” I bowed my head.

“Where is ya from, sonny?” He readjusted his knapsack over his bony shoulder.

“New Jersey.” I admitted.

“Back east, really?” He smiled as I nodded my head, “Well, I’m comin’ over to the other side, and I’ll help you get to where you need gettin’ to.” 

I watched him scurry like a nighttime critter until he was adjusting to the bench seat next to me.

“Just so happens I was runnin’ away.” He declared, “They put me in one of them old folk homes. I done escaped from there and I’m headed out to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” I shook my head.

“Been around these parts quite a while.” He rolled a cigarette, “And it’s time for me to be riding for the last time into the sunset.” 

“Is you dying?” I asked starting up the engine.

“Yup. Gonna go out in a blaze of glory.” He lit his cigarette, and I could see the rugged shape of his face in the glow of the match. “Wanna say so long to some of my friends before the big blow out.” 

“Sounds kinda sad.” I put the truck into gear.

“I lived the life I wanted to and now it’s time to be movin’ on.” He smiled, “Now when you come up to an intersection a ways down here, you’re gonna wanna make a left.”

“Are you sure?” I glanced at him with some doubt. 

“Sonny, I’ve been here for almost four score.” He blew out a large could of smoke out his open window, “Ain’ an inch of these parts I ain’ been in.” 

“Were you born here?” I asked, feeling more at ease sitting next to Billy Smith.

“Nope, like you, I was born back east in West Virginia.” He sat back into the seat, “My mama was sick with consumption and the doctor told her about this territory that was good for folks suffering from it. So I came here with her new husband, Mr. McCarthy. As soon as she died a year later, he took off for Silver City. I was almost twelve when I went looking for him. Never did find him.” 

“That’s too bad.” I took a deep breath, “I wish I had lost my father; Colin except I would not go looking for him.” I chuckled.

“Why not?” Billy asked, arching a gray eyebrow. 

“Because he liked to get drunk and beat us up when he came home.” I shook my head, “He is not a nice man.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He bowed his head.

“But McCarthy left you to fend for yourself in this godforsaken place.” I pointed out.

“Oh, but back then this place was hoppin.” He smiled, “Lots of dancin’ girls and all sorts of folks lookin’ to make a buck in them silver mines up there in the hills.” He chuckled. “Folks were always trying to make it rich.”

“It just doesn’t seem like a place you could make a bundle.” I shrugged.

“It was a whole lot different back in 1870. It was a wild territory.” He whistled, “Y’all wanna turn up here. Left.” 

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“As sure as my name is Billy Smith.” He laughed as I turned the rig left and lost sight of the crescent moon.  

I kept driving as Billy dozed in the seat next to me until the sun broke over a jagged horizon. Even though Billy had pulled his cowboy hat over his eyes, he began to stir once the sun shone down on him.

“Where is we?” He coughed as he pushed his hat back to where he had it when we first met. 

“Sign back there, read Las Cruces.” I answered.

“Good, we’re almost there.” He smiled. In the light of day, I could see some of the deep age lines in his face, “What time is it?” 

“Almost eight.”

“We need to stop for a bite.” He yawned. 

“But I need to get to the base.” I shook my head.

“Nonsense, them army boys can wait.” He chuckled, “My belly is pinchin’ my backbone, for sure.” 

“I want to get this delivered to the base.” I shook my head again.

“What’s another few minutes gonna mean?” 

“Well, them army guys say it needs to be here at such and such a time, they mean it.” I was aghast that he wanted to get some breakfast. 

“Posh.” I waved his hand, “What would rather deal with them or me without no vitals and coffee?” 

We did stop at this roadside place about ten miles from the base. I watched him gobble down a plateful of eggs and sausage with toast in about six minutes flat.

“I never get tired of looking out at that golden sunshine that has blessed me most of my life.” He finished his coffee and hand-rolled cigarette as we strolled out to the truck. 

Ten minutes later we arrived at the front gates of the army installation at Alamogordo.

June 2002, Sky Ranch Retirement Home

“So that was the night you met Billy Smith.” Ellis Wisely clicked off his tape player, “Are you sure he didn’t say he was Billy the Kid?” 

“Never once.” Grady puffed on his cigarette as Bear Willits gave Grady a disapproving glance from across the yard. “We spent a lot of time together the next two weeks and I know for a fact; he did not tell me he was Billy the Kid.” 

“But this reporter said otherwise.” Ellis held up the article written by Dennis Watson for the Albuquerque Gazette.

“All he was trying to do was make a name for himself back then.” Grady bowed his head, “Folks thought Smith was the Kid, but as far as I know, it wasn’t so.” 

“It just seems there’s a lot of coincidence in his story that would lead one to believe that Watson was right.” Ellis tilted his head. After his ten years at Celebrity Magazine, Ellis had developed a professional instinct about interview subjects when the pieces of the story didn’t seem to fit. His professional instincts were on red alert at the moment. 

“Well, they’d be wrong.” Grady snapped. Bear Willits came sauntering over when he heard.

“Is everything all right?” Bear asked as he stood in front of the table they were sitting at.

“Fine.” Grady nodded.

“We were just talking.” Ellis felt intimidated by the large presence of Sky Ranch Retirement Community Orderly Bear Willits even though he had done nothing threatening to Ellis. Yet. 

There was no doubt in Ellis’ mind that Bear would protect the residents of the community with his life if forced to and Ellis wanted to stay on his good side.  

“Just keep in mind, you only have twenty minutes before visiting hours are over.” Bear informed Ellis before he moved on to other parts of the outdoor area.

It was already getting hot and it was barely ten in the morning. Ellis was not known as an outdoorsman, preferring instead the coziness of the air conditioning over the death rays of the desert sun.  

“Say what you will about Billy Smith, Mr. Wisely, but he got me out of that fix I was in.” Grady pointed a crooked finger at Ellis as he shrugged. 

“I just wanted to know if Billy Smith was really the Kid.” He put his tape recorder in his briefcase.

“I thought I had already answered that with a negative.” Grady crushed his cigarette out before standing up.

“There are some things I know by instinct.” Ellis nodded, “And it seems to me that the man you picked up that night was more than who he said he was.”

“We may never know.” Grady walked Ellis inside where the air conditioning would soothe them both. “I wish I had the gumption he had back in 1947 and just run away from this place.” 

“Where on earth would you go?” Ellis chuckled as he walked out of the reception area into the parking lot where he had parked his rental car. 

“Anywhere.” Grady sniffed, “I never did make it to Hollywood like I had planned.” 

“Mr. Lawton, I’ll be back tomorrow.” Ellis nodded as he shook the old man’s hand.  

“What for?” Grady was astonished that his interview wasn’t over.

“To clear up a few details.” Ellis answered. 

“What details, sonny?” Grady asked.

“I wanted to know more about his involvement with the Lincoln County Wars of the 1880s.” Ellis shrugged, “You said you spent nearly two weeks with him as he said so long to his friends and companions.” 

“Sure, sure, but I don’t remember much about that.” He stuttered.

“I think you remember more than you give yourself credit for.” Eillis opened the door to his Toyota rental.

“All I did was drive him here and there.” Grady scratched his head.  

“George Tunstell, does that name ring a bell?” Ellis looked at the old man with his instincts telling him that there was more to the story than Grady was telling him. He had done his research and knew that Grady had done time in a state penitentiary for various crimes over the past fifty years. There was definitely more to the story than Grady was telling him.  

He got in his rental and started the engine. Reaching over, Ellis clicked the play button on his recorder as he watched Grady Lawton disappear in his rearview mirror. 

“So, we rode through those roads and highways with no names searching for them army guys at Alamogordo where they were testing the atomic bomb. I told Billy that I was once in the army working out of Fort Dix as a mortician assistant during the war. I told him about all of the dead soldiers we processed making sure that the bodies in the caskets matched the paperwork attached. I told him I joined the army when I was fifteen years old. One of the sergeants knew I had fibbed about my age and made sure I stayed stateside until the war was over. I joined on account of my father’s abuse on me and my mother. I knew he killed her after I had been at the fort for about six months. I came to her funeral where her best friend held my hand through the entire service. After the service my dad came home drunk and tried to beat me up, but I guess I was bigger than he reckoned, because I got the better of him that time. It was the last time I went home, and I’ve never looked back.