In the summer of 1880, Billy Thompson was in a saloon shooting in Ogallala, Nebraska. After the shooting, the law kept him under guard in the city’s only hotel, The Ogallala House, until he could be tried and hanged, which was a foregone conclusion for all residents. His brother Ben Thompson, a noted gambler and gun fighter, was convinced the Ogallala mob was waiting to come after Billy. He had reason to believe that if he turned up they intended to throw a tie party for two. Hedging his bets, Ben called on an old friend, Bat Masterson, to free his brother from the clutches of what was said to be twisted Ogallala law.
It all started when Billy competed for the affections of a local prostitute with the ignominious nickname of Big Alice. A salon owner named Bill Tucker claimed him off duty and warned Billy to stay away from the damsel. Billy, ignoring the warnings, continued to mingle with Big Alice until he decided to confront Tucker at his tavern, Cowboy’s Rest. After downing a tripe full of liquor, Billy walked into the living room and fired a quick shot at Tucker. The bullet struck the saloon owner in the hand as he was serving a customer a shot of whiskey. Tucker quickly counted the fingers on his left hand and discovered that the thumb was missing and three other fingers had been mutilated. He grabbed a bar towel, wrapped his bloody hand around it, and hid behind the bar. Billy, thinking that he had killed the man, holstered his pistol and staggered out of the room.
Tucker was far from dead. He stopped behind the bar with a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun. He ran to the door and with his good hand pointed the ten-gauge at Thompson, firing both barrels. Billy, who was a short distance from the hall, fell to the street with five buckshot hits to his back and buttocks. Tucker’s friends rushed him to Tucker’s house for medical attention, while the law dragged Billy to Ogallala House, where he was treated and held prisoner.
Because Ben Thompson had saved his life or for whatever reason, Masterson felt compelled to help Ben win back his wayward brother from Ogallala thugs and boarded a train to Nebraska. Arriving in the city, which was little more than a few rough-hewn buildings clustered around the Union Pacific Line on the north bank of the South Platte River, Bat surveyed the situation and found that he was defying the odds. Billy’s injuries made him unable to ride a horse, so Bat had to come up with another method to get him out of town. He told Billy to pretend that he was so weak that he couldn’t escape while he came up with a plan.
Bidding his time, Bat befriended the young officer tasked with guarding Billy at the hotel. They played cards to pass the time, and often Bat would buy a round of drinks. Then, after a few days, Bat saw his chance one Sunday night when the entire community turned out for a dance held at a school on the outskirts of town. The sheriff, who was the best fiddler in the area, was very fond of playing and kept the crowd dancing until the wee hours of the next morning.
The night of the ball, the Ogallala House had emptied out, leaving only Bat, Billy, the busboy, and a bartender named Jim Dunn. Masterson managed to bribe Dunn into slipping a “Mickey Finn” into one of the whiskey sours he ordered for himself and the guard. The guard drank the spiked drink, and Bat ordered another round. A few minutes after the second drink, the guard collapsed to the ground in shock. Bat paid the bartender and ran to Billy’s room, where he dressed the injured man. He then rolled Billy up in a rug, hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him to the storage room. They arrived just as the train was pulling into the station around midnight. Bat got on the train, put Billy on a seat, and they set off in silence for North Platte, about fifty miles east of Ogallala.
At about two in the morning, they reached North Platte, where Bat shouldered Thompson down the steps to the station. It was pitch dark, but up the street Masterson could see the gaslights of Dave Perry’s saloon. He managed to drag Billy through the lounge doors and onto a pool table. Luckily, Bill Cody was in the living room drinking and telling stories to his friends. Bat explained his situation and Cody, ever the showman, dramatically swore that he would personally see to it that they did not fall into the hands of the Ogallala authorities and provide a means of getting them back to Dodge City.
This is where the story takes a comedic turn. Without telling his wife, Cody gave Masterson his new phaeton buggy and a well-bred horse to transport Billy out of Nebraska. In addition, he offered to let them go along with the group of dignitaries he was leading on a trip to a large cattle ranch about twenty-five miles south of North Platte. The Europeans, who had been dispatched by General Sheridan, were traveling west to see firsthand the wilds of the frontier, and Cody was in charge of escorting them to Keith’s ranch. The twenty foreigners came eager for the famous Buffalo Bill to lead them across the wild plains and he was in his element, full of grand gestures and dramatic flair.
As the caravan assembled, Cody asked Masterson to drive his double pickup truck and let another ranch hand drive the buggy carrying Thompson. Bat quickly discovered that the dining wagon was loaded with a small amount of food and a large amount of liquor. All the riders were given a strong drink and then Cody signaled for the group to set off on their journey. After riding for a short time, Cody stopped the riders for a rest stop that included a generous supply of “liquid refreshments.” He repeated this routine for several more stops until the caravan was having a lot of fun, but it was getting harder and harder to stay in the saddle.
Finally, Cody, wobbly in his saddle, rode to the dining car and splashed aboard. He immediately fell asleep, and Bat was left in charge of leading the group south. Bat, who had also had his share of liquid soda, could barely steer the wagon and after a short distance hit a pothole and flipped the wagon onto his back. Masterson was thrown out of the wagon, but Cody was trapped under the bed, covered in the load of “soda”. Bat had landed on his face and was stroking a bloody cut on his bottom lip. He and the others managed to right the dining wagon only to find Cody unharmed and wondering what the hell had happened.
They finally made it to Keith’s ranch where they had dinner and Cody sobered up enough to entertain his entourage with his legendary shooting and horsemanship skills. The next morning, Masterson, with a swollen lip and a massive hangover, hooked up with Cody’s Mrs. Phaethon and headed to Dodge City with Billy. Shortly after leaving the ranch, a huge black cloud swept over them from the west, drenching them in torrents of bone-chilling rain. He continued to rain down on the couple for the rest of their two hundred mile journey.
Several days later, Mrs. Cody’s carriage pulled into Dodge City with Masterson at the reins and Thompson draped in a sodden buffalo robe. They were both covered in mud and completely drenched. Trembling, Bat urged the weary horse toward his favorite hotel, where a hot bath and a decent meal were always available. Billy came out from under his buffalo hide and demanded that they first stop at the telegraph office where he wired the Ogallala sheriff. The message said that he had arrived safely in Dodge and that the sheriff could meet him there if he wanted to come look for him.
Over the years, Billy Thompson had been accused of many things, but never, ever, of being very smart. Fortunately for Billy, the sheriff decided it wasn’t worth the effort and dropped the matter.