Is It True?

Sky Ranch Retirement Community

Santa Rosa, NM June 2002

Grady was the only one who was awake in the recreation room at Sky Ranch Retirement Community.  He was watching reruns of M.A.S.H. on Channel 12.  No one, not even God Himself, dared disturb this sacred nightly viewing ritual of the antics of the 4077 MASH Unit.  It was a known rule within the community, written in stone, that no one should venture into the recreation room and disturb him.  No one, no matter how many dozens of times he had seen the episode.   

Sitting there with a dying cigarette between the fingers on his left hand, Grady could not ignore the young man pacing in the waiting room where Bear Willits sat manning the afterhours reception desk. He found it difficult concentrating on Hawkeye and Trapper John as they pulled another hilarious prank on Major Burns.  The door to the rec room was ajar and Grady could not help as he kept craning his neck to get a good look at the stranger pacing just beyond the slightly open door. It had been a while since the last one had shown up here asking if it was true. 

Grady had no doubt the stranger pacing in the next room, wanted to know.  He wanted to know if it was true.  He was no different from all the others that had come before him.  They all wanted to know the same thing; is it true.  He would send this one away empty handed just like all the rest.  Crushing out his long dead cigarette in the overfilled ashtray next to where he was sitting, Grady readied himself to meet the young man in the waiting room.  The evening rerun now over, the credits began to roll by on the television screen.  The overhead light suddenly came on.  The shock of the bright light woke some of the sleeping residents that had sacked out on the couch or in one of the cushioned easy chairs facing the television. 

“Whaaa-” Abe rose from the couch rubbing his eyes.

“Go to bed, Mr. Rosen.” Bear said as he entered the Recreation Room followed by the stranger who had been pacing in the waiting area. 

“Sure.” He was having trouble keeping his dentures in place, but he managed to get to his feet and walk out of the well-lit room. 

“Mr. Kane, you need to get to your room.” Bear gently tapped the sleeping man on the shoulder. The sleeping man sat up immediately.  Despite his giant stature, Bear Willits was a patient, kind man who worked at the retirement community for over ten years.  He had come from the Hopi Nation in the north in Shiprock which was near the Four Corners.  His jet-black hair was streaked with distinguishing silver streaks, a stark contrast to his dark skin.  

“Is it midnight?” Mr. Kane shook his head free of sleep cobwebs.  

“No, it's just seven.” Bear smiled as Ceril Kane rose from his easy chair. Yawning and stretching, Ceril stopped to gaze at Ellis who had not even noticed he was there.  He pointed to Ellis, but Bear put his finger to his lips and shook his head.  Ceril shrugged and yawned again as he started toward the open door.  Ellis noted that Bear was clearly one of the favorite members of the staff at Sky Ranch.  

There was only one who was awake watching the television and Ellis assumed that this was the man he had been looking for.  

“Are you Grady Kid Lawton?” The young man wearing thick glasses and carrying a briefcase asked.

“Who wants to know?” He glared at the young man. It had been a long time since Grady had been referred to as Kid.  He remembered the day he was led into court with a group of reporters all shouting out for his attention.  Each of them armed with pads and tape recorders, all shouting, “There he is, Grady Kid Lawton!”  

His unwillingness to speak on his own behalf ended up costing him ten years in a state penitentiary.  His lawyer begged him to make a statement that he got the gold from a known fugitive named William Bonny. He refused to do so and paid for it. He never told anyone about that however. There were some details that were best left buried, just like the gold for the Dalton payroll of 1886 that Grady was accused of stealing. 

“I am Ellis Wisely.” He sat in the chair vacated by Ceril, “I’m from Celebrity Magazine.  Have you ever heard of it?”

“Can’t say I have.” He took the business card Ellis offered him. Putting it in his shirt pocket, Grady studied Ellis, noting how he seemed to be a bit jumpy and somewhat uncomfortable in his white shirt, his skinny tie and suit jacket that did not match his trousers. Not that Grady was any sort of fashion expert, but he did have a knack for reading a person and he did not like what he was reading from Ellis. 

“We are the most popular magazine in the nation.” Ellis puffed himself up a bit. 

“And what in tar-nation do you want with me?” Grady turned off the television and resumed his cushioned chair.  

“Yeah, what would you want to talk to Grady for?” Ceril asked.

“I work for the Human-Interest Section run by Elsa Banion.” He explained as he opened his briefcase with a snap.  This Ellis guy was no different than all the rest of them, Grady thought as he shrugged his shoulders before lighting another cigarette. He even waved his hand and grimaced as Grady blew the smoke in his direction.  For years he had been told by doctors that smoking was bad for you, but Grady had outlived most of them do-gooders, so hang ‘em, he would go to his grave with a cigarette at the corner of his mouth. 

“What do you want to know, Mr. Wiser?” Grady asked as he leaned back in the easy chair, he was sitting in like he was the crowned king of France. 

“Wisely.” Ellis smiled as he corrected him, “Is it true?” 

“Is what true?” Grady blew some more smoke in Ellis’ direction.  

Ellis waved the smoke away with his hand and then reached into his jacket pocket.  From his inside pocket, Ellis presented him with a yellow newspaper clipping.  Carefully opening the newspaper, Grady saw the article Dennis Watson had written for the Albuquerque Gazette back in September 1947 when Grady had been hauling nuclear material for the United States Army at Alamogordo Nuclear Test Site.  What started out as a routine haul ended in an epic adventure across the entire state of New Mexico as Billy Smith said so long to all of his traveling companions.  

It seemed like yesterday as he gazed at the picture he had taken when he and Billy rode into Fort Sumner, New Mexico.  Billy had Grady stop the truck in the middle of the small town.  Somberly, Billy got out and slowly walked over to the monument, proclaiming this was where Billy the Kid was buried after his fateful meeting with Marshall Pat Garrett. It was all written on the aging plaque that hung on the marble monument.

Unexpectedly, Billy removed his hat, placing it over his heart as he bowed his head.  In their time together, Billy had never displayed any inkling of prayer or reverence to higher power, but here he was in the light of day, hat off and head bent in some sort of prayer or reverence to the deceased. 

Moved by what he was seeing and not thinking about it, Grady went into the truck and reached under his bench seat to retrieve his Kodak camera.  Finding Billy still in solemn prayer, Grady snapped the photograph.  It turned out to be a photograph worthy of the front page of the Albuquerque Gazette with Dennis Watson’s story beneath the picture.  Since the monument was prominent next to the old man, Watson left little doubt that he believed Billy Smith was really Billy the Kid. Many notorious outlaws came to the New Mexico Territory back then since it was an easy place to vanish from an unwanted past. 

But as far as Grady Lawton was concerned, it was this article that changed his life’s direction for both the good and the bad.  Mostly for the bad he reasoned even as his fading vision scanned the forgotten artifact that had suddenly come back to life. 

“You read the article; I assume.” Grady handed Ellis the article back.

“Yes, but there seems to be some doubt about the validity.” Ellis put the article in his opened briefcase, noticing how Grady’s hands shook as he did so. “Is it true?  That’s all I want to know, and I will leave you be.”

It would be so easy for Grady to say, “Yes, it’s all true.”

The only problem was, it wasn’t true and there was no straight line to the truth.  For almost fifty years, the truth was an enigma clothed in Wild West legend and tall tales.

“In this article, Watson claims that you picked up a hitchhiker who claimed to be Billy the Kid.” Ellis shrugged.  From the corner of his eye, he could see Bear hovering by the partially open door.

“The man I picked up said his name was Billy Smith.” Grady shook his head.

“So why did Watson claim otherwise?” Ellis asked.

“He got it wrong.” Grady sighed. “Folks wanted it to be right, but it weren’t.  He was just some hot shot reporter.” Grady paused as he glanced at Ellis, “Who wanted to save his father’s newspaper that was goin’ bankrupt. He just thought he was right.” Grady’s smile ran contrary to the article. 

“Seems like he was pretty sure.” Ellis nodded.

“Maybe you should ask him.” Grady snapped. “Shortly after he wrote that, he quit being a reporter. The newspaper went belly-up.”

“I see.” Ellis shook his head.

“Visiting hours are over, Mr. Wisely.” Bear announced as he entered the room.

“Is that so?” Ellis glanced at his wristwatch. “I thought you said I could stay until nine.  It isn’t nine yet.” 

“I reserve the right to change the hours, if I feel it is necessary for the well-being of our residents.  I believe that time has come. Mr. Lawton has told you what you wanted to hear, but it seems that is not enough.”

“Listen, I drove ten hours on Interstate 40 from Los Angeles.” He rose and looked up into Bear’s dark eyes.  He was nearly a head shorter than the big man, but Ellis had learned to be persistent and his irritation with the situation was beginning to show. “I just want to know if it’s true or not.” 

“You had your chance and now it’s time for you to leave.” Bear insisted.

“Wait.” Grady held up his right hand.  Bear did a double take, but then he shrugged and left the room without another word. Grady rubbed his eyes, “The truth is, Billy Smith never said he was the Kid.  He did tell me stories about the Lincoln County Wars of the 1880’s and how he rode with the Regulators against the Dalton Gang, but he never said he was Billy the Kid.”

“Can you tell me what he did say?” Ellis sat down and put his elbows on his knees. “I’m interested.” 

“Sure.” Grady smiled, “But it’s quite a tale.” 

“I got time, Mr. Lawton.” Ellis pulled out a tape recorder from his briefcase.

“I ain’t never told no one this story.” He shrugged, “It sounds like quite a whopper, but every word I’m about to tell you is the absolute truth.” 

“Shall we begin.” Ellis pressed the record button on his player. 

“Why doncha come for breakfast around nine?  I’m kind of tuckered out.” Grady bowed his head.

“Sure.  I can be here when you want.” He patted Grady’s hand and stood up, “Until tomorrow morning.”

“See ya then, sonny.” Grady chuckled as Ellis walked out of the room.  He waved to Bear as he exited the building.  

********** 

Ellis drove his rental Fiat back to his motel, The Highway Queen with a neon lit ten-foot woman dressed in scant pool attire.  Parking in front of his room, he fumbled for his room key and walked into the icebox room with the air conditioner running full blast.  

Home sweet home, he shivered. 

Before being assigned this story, Ellis spent a lot of research on William Bonny known as Billy the Kid, but nothing in the research seemed to line up with the article Dennis Watson wrote his sensational story for the Albuquerque Gazette on September 30, 1947.  According to his research, Ellis found, Billy Smith and Billy the Kid were two completely different people entirely.  He began to suspect that Dennis Watson was trying to sensationalize the story for his own infamy.  This was not uncommon for journalists to do when the facts of the story they were working on were mundane and boring.  

If the truth be known, Ellis loathed this assignment to begin with.  With the worst kept secret at the Human-Interest Section, Ellis had developed an intimate relationship with his boss, Elsa Bannion, but it seemed that her interest in him began to wane. There were little things said and done that clued him into that fact.

And then there was the owner of the lucrative magazine, Harvey Pinkston who had a reputation as a playboy.  His eye seemed to be targeting Elsa Bannion and now that he was in the middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, there was nothing standing in his way to make a romantic connection with Elsa.  He was pretty sure that was taking place right at this moment since his last phone call only got her answering service. Elsa was compulsive when it came to her phone, so Ellis was to conclude she was with Harvey.  While he wished he was wrong about that, there was nothing to contradict his conclusion, just like Grady Lawton had done earlier in the evening. 

He turned off the lamp next to his bed and listened to the trucks zipping by the roadside motel on Interstate 40.  Hopefully, he would be headed back to Los Angeles sometime tomorrow as long as Grady did not turn this story into some convoluted story about some Wild West adventure, but that too seemed quite unlikely.  

Sleep would not come easy. Not tonight.