The Guilty - Jason Pinter [87]
the guilty.
I brought up the photo of J. Frank Dalton on his deathbed.
Thought about the alleged report of Jesse James and William
H. Bonney meeting near Las Vegas in 1879. Ten days after
the birth of James's daughter.
The Guilty
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Daughter. That word stuck in my throat. Mary Susan
James. Born just three years before her father was allegedly
killed.
On a whim, I checked to see if there were any records of
Billy the Kid having children, a wife, any trace of a bloodline. According to the records, Bonney never married and it
was unclear whether he had any children.
I looked up the family tree of Brushy Bill Roberts. Roberts
had apparently married a woman named Melinda. Records
showed that Roberts had one son, Jesse William Roberts,
who was born in Hamilton, Texas, in 1897.
Jesse William Roberts. I looked at the photos featuring
Brushy Bill and Frank Dalton together. Added that to the
alleged meeting between the outlaws in 1879. It would be
a mighty big coincidence--or a case of damn good foresight--for the man who'd later claim to be Billy the Kid to
name his only son after Jesse James. Either that, or Jesse
James and Billy the Kid were better acquaintances than
people thought.
My fingers flew as I typed more searches into the machine,
my mind ignoring the pain from my stitched-up hand. I
couldn't stop. The spool was unraveling and I couldn't slow
down. I knew I had stumbled upon something, a story that
drove to the very heart of a century-old legend.
I looked for lineage records pertaining to Jesse William
Roberts, son of Brushy Bill Roberts. Jesse had married a
woman named Lucy Barnett. Lucy gave birth to two of Jesse's
children: James and Catherine.
Catherine Roberts. Brushy Bill's granddaughter. Who shared
the same name as Billy the Kid's mother, Catherine Antrim.
Catherine Roberts died of tuberculosis in 1927 at just three
years of age. James Roberts, Brushy's grandson, eventually
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moved to New Mexico, where he married Lucinda Walther.
In 1957 she gave birth to a son named John Henry Roberts.
John Henry Roberts married a woman named Meryl Higgins,
and in 1987 Meryl gave birth to twins: Martha James Roberts,
and William Henry Roberts.
William Henry Roberts. Currently aged twenty-one. The
same age Billy the Kid was when allegedly killed by Pat
Garrett.
The theories were true. William H. Bonney, known by
millions as Billy the Kid, known by few as Brushy Bill
Roberts, had fathered a son.
I knew why this killer was using the Winchester rifle. Why
he had chosen the weapon and bullets he did. Why he had
stolen that gun from the museum in Fort Sumner. Why he had
waited twenty-one years to reclaim his heritage. To continue
the destiny set forth by his ancestor.
The bloodline had survived. And one hundred and thirty
years after his supposed murder, Billy the Kid's greatgrandson, William Henry Roberts, had brought the lawlessness and bloodshed of the Old West here to New York City.
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The vodka tasted cold and bitter as it slid down her throat,
but the tonic dulled the taste and made it easy to swallow. She
knocked the glass on the counter and signaled the bartender,
a bohemian named Gregory who wore a ponytail pulled back
so tight she feared it might tear his scalp off, and told him to
refresh the drink.
"What, you going in for surgery and need a cheap anesthetic?" Gregory said with a laugh. He took a bottle from the
well, gave her an inch and a half and topped the rest with
tonic. "Hey, Mya, you okay?"
Mya Loverne looked up at Gregory and managed a weak
smile. She'd come to the Suave bar four times in the past week
alone, drank herself into oblivion each time, and this was the
first time Gregory had noticed her.
Drinking was all she could do since Henry abandoned her.
Since Amanda had run her off. Since Mya had nothing left,
nobody to lean on except the awkward embraces from sweaty
drunks who weren't quite repulsive enough to turn down. The
physical pleasure dulled the pain. Not for long, but long enough