Triggerfingeritis – The Old West Gunman

In the parlance of the late 19th-century American West, "triggerfingeritis" wasn’t a medical term found in any physician’s handbook. Instead, as humorously defined by Edgar Beecher Bronson in 1910, it represented "an acute irritation of the sensory nerves of the index finger of habitual gun-packers; usually fatal – to someone." This tongue-in-cheek diagnosis encapsulated the era’s violent reality, where a quick draw and unerring aim were often the only things standing between life and death. Bronson’s definition highlights the prevalence of gun culture and the constant tension that permeated life on the Great Plains and beyond.

Bronson, writing from firsthand experience, categorized the denizens of this era into two broad groups: those who took life in defiance of the law and those who upheld it. The outlaws, or those who operated outside legal boundaries, were further divided into three classes. Class A comprised those for whom violence was a way of life, individuals who seemed to revel in bloodshed. Class B included outlaws who killed in defense of their ill-gotten gains or their freedom from capture. Finally, Class C consisted of otherwise law-abiding men who, in the heat of a personal dispute, committed manslaughter and chose to flee rather than face the consequences of their actions.

On the other side of the divide stood those who acted in the name of law and order. This group was more finely stratified, consisting of six distinct classes. At the apex were the United States Marshals, federal law enforcement officers tasked with maintaining order across vast territories. Next came sheriffs and their deputies, the local representatives of justice. Stage and railway express guards, often referred to as "messengers," formed another crucial class, protecting valuable shipments from bandits. Vigilance Committees, groups of private citizens who took the law into their own hands, were a more controversial element. While sometimes effective, they were often prone to bias and susceptible to manipulation. Unorganized bands of ranchmen, driven by a desire to protect their property, would also pursue marauders relentlessly. Finally, detectives employed by Stock Growers’ Associations worked to combat cattle rustling, a pervasive problem in the West.

The social fabric of the West during the 1870s and 1880s was still in its formative stages. In areas like Wyoming, Dakota, western Kansas and Nebraska, New Mexico, and West Texas, the formal legal system struggled to keep pace with the rapid influx of settlers and the inherent lawlessness of the frontier. Courts often stood idle, and lawyers found it difficult to earn a living. Paradoxically, despite the lack of legal infrastructure, Bronson argues that personal honesty was generally higher, and depredations against property were less frequent than in later years. This suggests a reliance on personal codes of conduct and community standards in the absence of effective legal enforcement.

The turning point came when victims began to seek legal recourse for their grievances. As society evolved, courts became busier, and lawyers prospered. However, the essential requirement for survival in the West remained the ability to react swiftly and decisively in the face of danger. As Bronson observed, pioneers who ventured into perilous regions, such as the Sioux country north of the Platte River between 1875 and 1880, quickly learned that a slow trigger finger could be a fatal flaw. Those who hesitated often found themselves buried in the unforgiving soil of the frontier or forced to retreat eastward, defeated by the harsh realities of life on the edge of civilization.

One shining example of a lawman who embodied the spirit of the West was Boone May. Arriving in Cheyenne, Wyoming, in 1876, May initially engaged in freighting between Cheyenne and the Black Hills, a hazardous route infested with hostile Sioux. After amassing a considerable fortune, he established a ranch at Lance Creek, a stage-road crossing located in the heart of Sioux territory. Despite his youthful appearance, May possessed a remarkable composure and an unflinching courage that quickly became legendary.

May’s mettle was soon tested when Sioux warriors raided his ranch, stealing stage horses and his own livestock. Undeterred, May single-handedly tracked the raiders, recovering the stolen animals and seizing a dozen Indian ponies as compensation. Al Patrick, the superintendent of the stage line, recognized May’s exceptional abilities and recruited him as a "messenger," a heavily armed guard tasked with protecting stagecoaches carrying valuable cargo.

During this period, stagecoaches traveling south from Deadwood carried vast sums of money in mail pouches and express boxes. Armored treasure coaches, guarded by "sawed-off shotgun men," transported as much as $200,000 in gold bars. Consequently, stagecoach robberies were commonplace. Bandits like Jack Wadkins and Dune Blackburn terrorized the Deadwood Trail, preying on unsuspecting travelers.

Bronson recounts an incident in February 1878, when he traveled south from Deadwood by stagecoach. Boone May and another messenger, Stocking, accompanied the coach on horseback, providing additional protection. As the coach entered a dangerous area near Old Woman’s Fork, a band of outlaws ambushed them. May’s quick thinking and accurate shooting turned the tables on the bandits, killing one and forcing the others to retreat. The coach escaped unscathed, thanks to May’s bravery and skill.

Within months of May’s employment, both Dune Blackburn and Jack Wadkins vanished from the stage road. It was widely believed that May had tracked them down and eliminated them, although he never publicly admitted to doing so. His dedication to law and order made him a fearsome opponent to those who preyed on innocent travelers.

Later that year, near Old Woman’s Fork, May and a companion faced off against eight bandits led by Frank Towle, a notorious outlaw with a substantial reward on his head. In the ensuing gunfight, May killed three of the bandits, including Towle, whose head he delivered to Cheyenne in exchange for a $5,000 reward. This incident marked the end of the major stagecoach robberies on the Cheyenne Road.

In 1879, May transferred his activities to the Sidney-Deadwood Road, where he helped bring down outlaws like Curley Grimes and Lame Johnny. By 1880, with the Sioux subdued and the stage roads relatively safe, May found life in his old haunts too tame. He ventured into the Sioux reservation to trap furs, but a surprise attack by a large war party resulted in a fierce battle. Standing in the open, May coolly and accurately shot down dozens of warriors, forcing the rest to retreat.

In stark contrast to the dashing Boone May stood Captain Jim Smith, also known as "Whispering Smith." Smith, a former artillery officer in the Union Army, was a formidable peace officer known for his unwavering dedication to justice. He possessed a fearsome appearance, with piercing black eyes and a grim demeanor that could intimidate even the most hardened criminals.

Smith, lacking a sense of humor or sentimentality, was devoted solely to his guns. He carried a full-length .45 caliber pistol in a breast scabbard and a sawed-off .45 in his coat pocket. The latter weapon was often fired from within the pocket, leaving it riddled with holes.

In 1879, Sidney, Nebraska, was a lawless town overrun by desperadoes. McCarthy, the owner of the town’s largest saloon and gambling house, was the ringleader. Smith was sent to Sidney by the Union Pacific Railroad to restore order after the depot was robbed of $60,000 in gold bullion.

Upon arriving in Sidney, Smith learned that McCarthy was out of town. The next morning, Smith found McCarthy in his room with a pistol to his head. McCarthy had heard of Smith’s intention to "clean out" the town and kill him on sight. Smith cleverly convinced McCarthy that he was only interested in recovering the stolen bullion and that Lame Johnny was the prime suspect.

As McCarthy backed out of the room, Smith followed him stealthily. He crept down the stairs behind McCarthy and confronted him in the trunk room. When McCarthy turned, Smith shot him dead. Smith killed two more members of McCarthy’s gang that day, effectively breaking their hold on the town.

In 1882, Smith was recruited by Major W. H. H. Llewellyn to serve as an Indian agent on the Mescalero Reservation in New Mexico. However, the area was relatively peaceful, and Smith grew restless. When Llewellyn countermanded one of Smith’s orders, Smith drew his gun and threatened to kill him.

Smith later met with Bronson in El Paso, where he expressed his desire to work for the West Texas Cattle Growers’ Association, combating cattle rustlers. This marked the last time Bronson saw Smith, a man he described as the "incarnation of a relentless, inexorable, indomitable, avenging Nemesis."

Billy Lykins, a short but muscular inspector for the Wyoming Stock Growers’ Association, was another notable figure in the fight against crime. Lykins was known for his tenacity and his unwavering pursuit of justice. One of his most challenging cases involved Doc Middleton, an outlaw who had once been a respected member of the community.

Middleton’s descent into lawlessness began when he killed three soldiers in a saloon fight. Fearing unjust prosecution, he fled and became an outlaw. Lykins pursued Middleton relentlessly, and the two men had several encounters.

In one instance, Lykins cornered Middleton on a hilltop, but Middleton’s rifle misfired, allowing Lykins to capture him. A few weeks later, Lykins and two companions located Middleton’s camp. As Middleton and his gang rode past Lykins’ hiding place, Lykins fired at Middleton, breaking his thigh. In the ensuing gunfight, Lykins and his companions killed two more outlaws.

Middleton was eventually imprisoned, but he later reformed and became a respectable saloon owner in Rushville.

In the early 1880s, El Paso, Texas, experienced a rapid population boom, attracting speculators, prospectors, and a host of unsavory characters. The town became a hotbed of crime, with frequent robberies and killings. The local authorities were unable to maintain order, and a vigilance committee proved ineffective.

In desperation, the city council hired Dallas Stoudenmire, a tough and experienced gunfighter from Fort Davis. Stoudenmire quickly made his presence felt by posting a notice listing the names of seventy known outlaws and threatening to kill them on sight.

On his first day as marshal, Stoudenmire killed two men who ambushed him. Later that day, he survived a massive fusillade, killing seven of his attackers. The remaining outlaws fled the town, and El Paso was transformed from a lawless haven to a relatively peaceful community.

Unfortunately, Stoudenmire’s tenure as marshal was short-lived. He was killed a few weeks later in a private quarrel.

Hal Gosling, the U.S. Marshal for the Western District of Texas, and his deputy, Johnny Manning, were another formidable law enforcement duo. Gosling, a large and jovial man, was complemented by Manning, a quiet and reserved gunfighter.

In one notable case, Gosling and Manning were escorting two convicted road agents to prison when the prisoners’ wives slipped them pistols. The prisoners killed Gosling, but Manning, despite being seriously wounded, killed both prisoners. Manning eventually recovered and resumed his duties as a deputy marshal.

Colonel Albert J. Fountain was a prominent figure in New Mexico history. A soldier, scholar, lawyer, and Indian fighter, Fountain was known for his courage and his dedication to justice. He played a key role in pacifying the territory during a period of widespread lawlessness.

Fountain was appointed "Colonel of State Militia" and given a free hand to combat crime. He often worked alone, tracking down and capturing dangerous outlaws. In one instance, he captured a notorious outlaw in Concordia, single-handedly.

While waiting for a train to transport the prisoner, Fountain was chided for not securing his pistol with a cord. He borrowed a cord from a friend, but during the journey, the prisoner escaped. Fountain jumped from the train after him, losing his pistol in the process. However, he managed to kill the prisoner with a well-aimed shot.

Bronson concludes his account with a tribute to Pat Garrett, the legendary lawman who shot and killed Billy the Kid. Garrett, like Fountain, dedicated his life to upholding the law in the face of danger.

These stories from the Old West, as recounted by Edgar Beecher Bronson, offer a glimpse into a bygone era of violence, lawlessness, and extraordinary courage. The concept of triggerfingeritis, though humorous in its definition, serves as a stark reminder of the constant threat of violence that shaped the lives of those who lived on the American frontier. The gun was not just a tool but a symbol of survival, and the ability to use it effectively often meant the difference between life and death. The legends of these old west gunfighters continue to be told today.