Original subtitles

If you don't already know the name Bat Masterson, you should.

Because in my day, I was one of the most feared and respected men on the

frontier. Give me that.

Certainly, Bat Masterson is the most famous of all the Western lawmen.

Bat Masterson was an adventurer. He always wanted to see what was around the

next corner.

I came of age during one of the most exciting and dangerous eras of the old

west, the great slaughter of the buffalo.

I fought for my life against the fierce Comanche Indians.

Billy Dixon called Bat a chunk of steel, and anything that struck him drew

fire.

And I prevailed in gunfights against deadly outlaws.

Well, Bat Masterson is of that brand of man that's not afraid to mix it up, got

style. The gambler?

Come here, darling! I earned my reputation beside men like Wyatt Earp,

the peace in the roughest town the West would ever know.

My name's Masterson, Mr.

That pit of vice and danger known as Dodge City.

He's accustomed to violence. He doesn't shrink from it. And that's just the kind

of man you want, to keep order in a very violent place.

Masterson, without really knowing it, Change the web.

Forever.

At the age of 49, I'd already experienced a lifetime of danger in the

But the frontier had vanished long ago.

That morning in New York, I wished only to go about my business as a private

citizen. Bat had just arrived in New York City, was thinking about going off

Europe. What's the headline?

Mine is still on strike, sir.

When he was, of all things, arrested on bunco charge.

Hold on.

What's this about?

Mr. Masterson, we're with the Metropolitan Police.

We have a warrant for your arrest.

Arrest? Why in God's name?

Gambling fraud.

A very prominent, uh... A man from Utah claimed that Masterson had been part of

a gang that had defrauded him.

That's preposterous.

I could only chuckle at the irony.

In my day, men would die at the hands of lawmen rather than give up their

weapons.

But by 1902, the nation had changed, and so had I.

Careful with that piece, boy. He was furious because they confiscated his

This was actually his real pistol.

the one he had carried throughout all of his Western adventures.

It's the most famous gun you'll ever touch.

Right, this is my set.

Oh,

he was a reprobate. The charges against me were quickly dropped, but news of my

arrest spread around town.

I thought my years of notoriety as a gunfighter were forgotten long ago.

Doc Holliday was a notorious drunk.

But the reporters were eager to hear my tales once more.

I bailed him out of jail one time in Denver. Never even bought me a drink.

Worse is that.

And I'll admit, I've never been shy about telling him.

After Bat is arrested, everything's been put in the newspapers.

They remember Bat Masterson. They now have a true living gunfighter in their

presence. Is it true you killed... 26 men, Mr. Masterson?

Never killed a man I remember.

Maybe pointed my gun at one or two.

Really?

What about Melvin King?

Or the night your brother Ed was killed?

What happened then?

You must have shot someone bad.

Yes. Dodge City truly was as wild as they say.

What you gentlemen should know about what we now call the Old West is that

certain circumstances, a man's reputation was more vital to his safety

skill with a pistol or propensity for violence.

I hope you'll keep that in mind as I recount my story, which...

is well worth the hearing.

All right?

Or does it start?

Starts with something none of you pups have ever seen, nor ever will.

Herds of buffalo.

Vast, unaccountable herds.

Back then, they'd darken the prairie all the way to the horizon.

I was born in Canada in 1853.

and as a teenager moved with my parents to the United States.

My family eventually took up farming in Sedgwick, Kansas.

But I felt the call of the West, where any man could choose a destiny of his

own. By my 20th year, I was living on the frontier, earning my keep as a

hunter. The Western atmosphere of Kansas, Nebraska, it's pretty much the

is today. It's still rolling hills. It's very wide open.

From dawn until dusk, the prairie echoed with rifle shots.

How many's that?

Third one, boss.

Pick it up, son.

As hundreds of buffalo hunters plied their trade.

My brother Ed and I were among them.

You know, Brad, I heard Dixon got 44 yesterday.

I'm up 12 on you. Ain't no excuse now.

We'd come west together, eager to find fortunes of our own.

You got 12, too, if I was using the shotgun, big brother.

Ed Masterson was the firstborn of seven children. He was Bat's older brother.

But something about Bat's personality, you'd think the oldest child would be

type A, but instead Bat sort of called the shots.

Buffalo hunting was an industry, not a sport.

Looks like we're making money today, Ed.

Hundreds of thousands of buffalo were killed and skinned each season.

Hunters became so efficient that the year 1873 became known as the Great

Slaughter.

Bat Masterson was a shooter.

He was too good to be a stinker or a skinner.

A hunter could stand there and blast away for 40 minutes and kill 150

A hunter like Bat would finance a wagon.

A couple of skinners would come with him, and he would go out and try to find

herd.

The buffalo hunt was on, and these men were making money hand over fist.

The great slaughter really didn't come about until the federal government

to eradicate the American Indian.

And the federal government decided, well, if we kill off their food supply,

we'll get rid of the American Indian.

I learned more about life in one year of buffalo hunting than I could have ever

learned in school.

I became an expert with a pistol and a rifle.

Learned to track beats and men from the best guide in the West.

and forge lifelong bonds with men I could depend upon with my life.

That's where Bat's going to cut his teeth. He's going to learn to drink.

He's going to learn to shoot. All skills that you'll need when you wind up in

Dodge City.

Come on.

Batmaster son and the other buffalo hunters who were working in the Dodge

area. It didn't take long before they pretty much killed all of the buffalo in

the area.

But they got wind of the fact that in the Texas Panhandle, they still roamed

large and free.

The Texas Panhandle was ruled by the Comanches and the Kiowa Indians, so

was a risk.

But he and several others just couldn't resist.

They made their way to a place called Adobe Walls.

Years before Adobe Wolves had served as a trading post for other hunters who

were trading with the Indians, they had gotten run out by the Kiowa and the

Comanche. But Bat Masterson and several others decided they were going to try it

again.

Isn't this where Kit Carson got in trouble about 10 years back?

That's right.

About 300 or 400 Kiowa and Comanche ran him right out of town.

While at Adobe Walls, these men were highly on edge.

Reports of Indian killings in the surrounding area were starting to come

increasing frequency.

They knew that the Indians were on an uprising, and they knew that they were

right in the center of it.

Comanches had decided to rid the country of this pestilence once and for all and

protect their herd.

But dawn's light revealed that we were surrounded by ferocious Comanche

warriors.

It's not worth it. Shut it.

Take me later.

They attacked at dawn.

Fortunately, the men were awake.

And while two were killed instantly because they were sleeping in wagons

outside, the rest were immediately at the portholes and the windows and the

doorways, blazing away. And, of course, this was a tough crowd.

Not only was Fenton Atchison there, but Billy Dickson, one of the greatest of

the Western Flames, was with them.

We were 200 miles from Fort Dodd.

And though we were well armed and supplied, we knew it was only a matter

before we would scout the lives.

The buffalo hunting expedition I'd joined in Texas had turned into a grim

for survival.

The fearsome Comanche and Kiowa Indians, whose lands we'd violated, had

surrounded our camp, and were eager to take our scouts.

That was at the second battle of Adobe Wall in the Texas Panhandle, which was

quite a battle, actually.

As Bat Masterson and the other members of the buffalo hunting camp were

within Adobe Wall, a group of Comanche and Kiowa warriors surrounded the camp.

I say we wait them out.

Each time those heaters rush us, we knock off ten more.

The sheer numbers of the Kiowa and the Comanche, there's no way that they could

possibly win.

Let's bet we wait till dark and need Billy and one other to flip out.

You need luck, one of us will make it.

I don't need to tell you what they did to capture Steelheart.

Not me, you don't.

I did it myself.

That's right, boy.

Come on, let's go for help.

We're going to stay here and keep him occupied.

Billy Dickson, who is a legendary marksman in his own time, fired what has

become known as The shot of the century.

I believe they're out of range, Billy.

Maybe.

When the smoke clears, Indian falls off course up there on that hill. Of course,

the rest of them dash back down behind the hill.

That was the last place called Indian.

Damn, Billy.

The U .S. Army Corps of Engineers in later years went out.

and measured that shot at seven -tenths of a mile.

Billy Dickson knew the importance of deliberation and of accuracy.

After that, everybody who was anybody in the West claimed to have been at Adobe

Walls, but in the case of Masterson, it was actually true.

To Billy Dickson!

And to Ben Masterson!

After Adobe Walls, I'd had enough of the buffalo trade.

So I spent a year working as a scout and teamster for the Army.

It was hard labor, but it paid well.

And soon I found myself in Sweetwater, Texas.

You just sit right here on my knee, darling, and give me a kiss when I win

hand. And what if you don't win?

I had money in my pocket, a colt on my hip, and the world at my feet.

but no idea at all that I would soon face death at the hands of a murderous

frontier thug.

During his years in the Buffalo camp, Bat had gotten to know his way around a

deck of cards.

He'd endeared himself to the rougher men as a man who could hold his liquor.

Sweetwater, Texas had both.

Emonty's a game of skill in nearly two qualities, I possess in abundance.

And luck, dummy.

It's all luck. Most men who play this game go home with empty pockets.

About that time, in walks a man by the name of Melvin King.

There were a lot of dastardly folks out there in the Buffalo country at that

time, and he just happened to be one of them.

Melvin King was a soldier, essentially, because he needed a job when he wasn't

getting in trouble.

It's cold out there. Somebody pour me a drink. It was a relatively steady

paycheck, at least until he got drunk, got in trouble, and was kicked out.

Melvin, is that your girl?

He also happened to be in love with Molly Brennan, who Bat was outrageously

flirting with.

Molly!

Who the hell is that?

Damn whore.

My name is Masters the Mister, and you're taking your life in your own

talking that way to my friend.

I suggest you turn around.

He immediately saw red.

He was a very, very jealous man.

And he pulled out his gun.

Next thing you know, bullets are flying.

Hey!

Anyone want to meet their maker here and now?

Unfortunately, the very first one hits his love, Molly Brennan. Back up.

The second one hits.

That master sent in his pelvis.

The back is quick.

pull his gun, and send a deadly bullet into Mount King.

I remember every detail of that moment.

The bitter taste of the cheap whiskey we drank, the winning hand of Monty I was

holding, the deafening crack of King's pistol.

Most vividly, the look in Molly Brennan's eyes she felt of a bullet

me.

I'd learned much about living in the eye of danger in those early days.

That scoundrel Melvin King taught me a lesson I have not forgotten to this very

day.

Skill and vigilance aren't enough to win a gunfight.

Man needs luck as well.

I'd survived my first gunfight.

Barely.

I was still recovering from that nearly fatal wound when I took a job even more

dangerous than scouting for the Army.

As soon as I was able to walk, I put on a lawman's badge, alongside a good

friend from my Buffalo hunting days.

You look like hell warmed over, Bat.

You sure you're up for a scrape?

Wyatt Earp, what else can be said?

The man is the quintessential legend of the American West.

By force of reputation alone, Wyatt's name to this very day defines

the West.

We went back to Dodge City. At this time, Wyatt Earp was one of the

marshals for Dodge City, and he convinced Bat to come on and work with

there.

I swear I can't take you boys anywhere.

You can soften them up for me. I'll jump in when I'm ready.

Wyatt Earp was a man I could trust with my life.

Together we set out to tackle a tough assignment.

Keeping the peace in the wildest town the West would ever know.

Go bunk up and sleep it off.

Dodge City was an incredibly violent and dangerous town.

Yeah.

What if you don't want...

I tell you what, this is one hell of a ride. In 1876, I, Bat Masterson, had

become Dodge City's assistant marshal, alongside my good friend, Wyatt Earp.

Even better, my brother Jim had come back out from the family farm, eager to

his own reputation as a lawman.

Jim combined the greatest qualities of his two older brothers, and he was just

as tough, if not tougher, than Bat.

What about that cane?

Do you really need it?

Ah, that famous cane.

See, of course, you still carry one.

Came in handy on more than one occasion.

All right, boys, you've had enough sport for today.

And the cowboys coming up from Texas, who had been on the trail for three

months, they all got paid and they were here.

spend it all in one night, which they usually did. And so for Bat Masterson

Wyatt to be essentially bouncers in a biker bar, it was really intense.

Go bunk up and sleep it off.

Yeah.

What if we don't want this?

Wyatt was the type of person who would use any means necessary to subdue a

criminal. Well, then, let's try it this way.

He was in no way ashamed to use his fists or any other blunt object to

get his point across.

Ten dollars on Wyatt.

You got two.

All of them.

Earp was apparently really well coordinated because he was good at

After that, Matheson was injured.

He liked cane for the rest of his life.

When you act up in his territory, he might just beat you over the head with

The cane came in awful handy as a weapon.

The smack from a hickory stick will get anybody's point across.

I'm about to use it to pull it back.

How about it, boys?

We're game if you watch.

Come on, get up.

Get up.

Have you had enough? Come on. Get up.

Dodge City was lucky to have Wyatt Earp and the Masterson brothers keeping the

peace.

And that brawl was merely a taste of what was to come.

Dodge City was only just becoming Queen of the Cowtown.

Dodge City was one of the first communities in western Kansas.

It starts with the Santa Fe Trail.

Even during the years of the Civil War, while North and South were being torn

apart, East and West were being drawn together through the immigrant trails,

three -quarters of them went right through the state of Kansas.

That was the economic highway for the entire United States at that time.

By the time the railroad had gotten here in September of 1872, there were

reportedly already 40 ,000 buffalo hides laying beside the railroad tracks.

And, of course, Dodge City sprung up almost overnight.

Well, Tombstone and Deadwood were boom towns, mining towns.

Dodge City was a cattle town, and that's why it boomed. And boom it did.

So when the season was on for cattle to be driven up from Texas, it was the

wildest town in the country.

They needed to put on all sorts of extra policemen and everything else to just

keep the lid on the plate.

Lots of folks in this town think you ought to stand for sheriff.

What's it pay?

I don't know. Probably not enough.

Another one?

Bat throws his hat in the ring in the county sheriff election after a rather

bitter enemy announces his candidacy for the same position.

No, this one's on me, Bat.

Thanks, Hank.

If you run for sheriff, you got my vote.

When he ran for sheriff, he promised people that they would not be

in his behavior.

He only won it by three votes, but he still won it. He was the youngest

at that time.

By the time Bat Masterson is sheriff of Ford County, even though he's still very

young, he's an experienced frontiersman.

He's grown up on the frontier.

He's been a buffalo hunter. He's run with the toughest of the hombres of the

West.

As sheriff, I found myself chasing fugitives and horse thieves from one end

Ford County to the other.

My days as a frontier scout and guide paid off.

I knew every trail and track in western Kansas.

Heard it's supposed to rain all night.

You want to come in and bunk up?

Very few desperados escaped me once I'd taken up the chase.

Hands up through the bar. Still help me. I'll put a bullet in your chest.

Seems like you're begging to get killed here, Dave.

As much as I'd like to, I can't oblige.

So if you're done playing, I suggest you have some coffee.

You're required in Dodge City tomorrow morning. We'll be riding all night.

That became known all over the territory as a man not to be trifled with in

regards to law enforcement.

If he set out to get you, he was going to get you.

Old Dodd.

There is never a place like it.

Nor will we ever see one again.

It was America's bastion of vice, danger, and wickedness.

and its outrageous reputation drew the curious and the wicked in drone.

April 9th, 1878.

The time is 10 p .m.

How are you?

City Marshal Ed Masterson is patrolling the streets of Dodge, looking into all

the saloons.

And there's two cowboys that are carrying on and living it up like

when they come off those cattle drives.

And he steps over to them, and they're armed.

Dodge City has a law.

You cannot be armed in Dodge City.

He approaches Jack Wagner, informs him of the law.

Listen, fella, can't have a shooting night in here.

We have an ordinance about carrying firearms in this town.

My brother Ed was now working as a lawman in Dodge City.

Reinforce him.

He and I often encountered ruffians with little respect for the law.

We made sure they understood that we were in charge of Dodge City, not them.

Jack Wagner, though drunk, agrees to turn over his gun.

All right, Marshal. He didn't know.

I'm his trail boss.

I'll check it with the barkeep if that'll do.

We weren't stupid.

We didn't want 6 ,000 drunk cowboys with guns.

Get a couple, okay?

So Ed goes back outside and meets up with his deputy, and they're standing

there talking when out comes those two very same men.

Ed had earned a reputation as a fair and honest marshal.

I was proud of my brother, but also worried that his status might place him

danger. Didn't I just tell you you can't be carrying that gun in town?

Just to see you this fast?

It had started off as a normal evening, at least by Dodge duty standards.

But that night...

I would see my worst fears come to pass.

Dad, you're no badge. You can go to hell.

Give me that!

In 1878, I, Bat Masterson, had become a respected lawman in Dodge City, as had

my brother, Ed.

We both faced off against dozens of unruly cowboys and drunken thugs, and at

first, these two seemed no different.

Walker comes walking out. Ed happens to look over and sees that Walker now has

the gun back in his holster.

Didn't I just tell you you can't be carrying that gun in town?

Like a lot of western towns, you weren't allowed to carry a gun.

Did you see this badge?

It says Marshal.

Ed Masterson's the town lawman, and he's enforcing the ordinance.

Badger, no badge. You can go to hell.

Son of a bitch. Give me that. Ed goes to reach for the gun.

Give me that. Give me that.

Ed attempts to disarm Jack Wagner. Then the shot went fire.

The bullet entered Masterson's gut. The powder burns were so close that his

shirt, in fact, caught fire.

In the distance, that Masterson sees him.

and comes running toward them.

My everlasting regret.

I took no counsel in my fears.

I felt assured Ed's cool had an agreeable ways that always keep him from

I'm of a mind to bury you here and now.

Headshot real bad. You better come.

Stay with this one until the surgeon comes. If he moves, kill him.

My brother's end came swiftly.

Shot through the body at point -blank range, he lingered for half an hour.

And it went to his reward.

Bat actually did watch Ed pass away.

He held Ed's hand at the very end.

Ed died keeping the peace in a lawless town.

His loss was keenly felt by many, but by none so deeply as myself.

I had little time to mourn Ed's death before I was called back to duty.

Because a vicious desperado named James Kennedy held a grudge against the mayor

of Dodge City.

James Kennedy was born with an evil temper.

He was a troublemaker.

He was a lout.

He had already been in more than one shooting scrape. He was arrested at one

point or another by both Wyatt Earp and by Jim Masterson.

Kennedy begins to complain to the mayor about the mistreatment that Kennedy has

had by Mayor Dog Kelly's law enforcement people.

Kelly's not going to have any dealings with this.

Kennedy's pride is damaged. He made it known around town that Mayor Kelly

and the rest of the Dodge City lawmen were going to pay.

Whether Kennedy planned to kill the mayor of Dodge or just scare him, we

found out.

But his bullets found an altogether different and entirely innocent victim,

beautiful showgirl named Dora Hand.

Unbeknownst to Kennedy, Kelly did not happen to be in his home that evening.

Kelly had, for some time, been renting the back room of his house.

to both Dora Hand and a fellow singer, Fanny Garrison.

Make way!

Oh my God, they shot Dora!

Dora happened to be in Kelly's bed the fateful evening when those bullets came

ricocheting through the door.

It's Dora Hand.

Fanny, don't just stand there. God can go find a surgeon.

One of the bullets went through the wall, punctured her heart.

Killed her instantly.

No person I ever knew was less deserving of her fate than Dora.

I vowed then and there that Kennedy would face harsh justice, either at the

of a hangman's rope or from the barrel of my rifle.

While the posse was forming, word of the violence had gotten out. Someone had

been killed that night in Dodge City.

Slowly, it became known that it was actually Dora.

Kennedy had ten hours head start on us, so we had a lot of ground to make up.

But I had a hunch I knew where he was going.

I was a gambler.

I knew exactly what the odds would be.

They rose south, knowing full well that Kennedy was heading back for home to the

ranch where his father and the ranch hands could protect him.

They supposed that Kennedy was going to try to throw them off the trail.

Charlie Bassett at that time was city marshal.

Wyatt Earp, his assistant marshal. Batten -Masterson County Sheriff was not

about to be left out of this posse.

You know, Bat, I bet you $10 you didn't come this way.

I'll take that bet.

Each one of the men in this intrepid posse was a force of nature unto

Kennedy appeared on the rise in the northern distance.

Bill, Charlie.

That looks like it's your lucky day.

He's instantly recognizable as the man that they've been looking for.

One of the posse most likely bats.

hails Kennedy, makes their presence clear.

That

Masterson

is rumored to be the one who fired the bullet that shattered Kennedy's

Let's go.

virtually down to his elbow.

It was a debilitating wound.

Kennedy was done.

It should have been a better shot and killed me here.

That'd be too easy, Spike.

See, I figured I'd give him some time to ponder your game on.

When you're dangling from the hangman's rope, I'll be watching from the front

row.

When my term as sheriff of Ford

County ended, I ran for re -election.

But Dodge City's corrupt politicians ran a slanderous campaign against me.

Rather than sink to their level, I accepted my loss with dignity.

and took a job at Wyatt Earp's Oriental Saloon in Tombstone.

The bat arrived in town with quite the reputation.

All right, gentlemen, place your bat.

If you had a dealer with a reputation like Matt Masterson, people would come

say, I played with so -and -so. He would be the house dealer at a Pharaoh game

or something.

They attracted customers, unlike some seedy character who nobody knows.

But I'd barely arrived before a family crisis called me back to Dodge. Mr.

Matheson, I have a telegram.

Bat received a telegram from an unsigned person that told him that his brother

Jim was in grave danger.

Wyatt, I gotta go.

Jim's in trouble at the Dodge.

I'd already lost one brother to Dodge City's violent criminals.

As I rode the express back to Dodge, I promised myself I wouldn't let that

happen again.

In April 1881, three years to a month since I'd lost my brother Ed in Dodge

City.

My other brother Jim faced mortal peril.

When a pair of dangerous men threatened his safety, I prepared to risk my life

without hesitation.

As soon as I got Jim's telegram, I caught the next train from Tombstone to

Dodge. His brother Jim was having trouble with a partner of his in a lady

saloon on the wrong side of the plaza.

Jim bought into the lady gay saloon. His partner was A .J. Peacock.

Dodge City old -timer who'd been here almost since day one.

Jim getting himself into trouble in Dodge led Bat to leave Tombstone and

miss strolling down the street to the OK Corral with the Earps because you know

he would have gone.

Peacock had hired his brother -in -law to be a bartender. Jim considered up to

Graff to be a drunk and attempted to have him discharged.

It was a point of contention, and of course Peacock was not about to fire his

brother -in -law, no matter his faults.

According to Mr. Updegraff, James had come into the saloon, leveled his gun,

demanded that Updegraff leave Dodge.

Someone was going to get hurt.

I knew Jim had bad blood with his untrustworthy partners.

But until I read that telegram, I had no idea their dispute had turned deadly.

April 16th, 1881.

Bat Masterson arrives back in Dunsley.

He has just traveled roughly 1 ,100 miles from Tombstone, Arizona.

Bat is anticipating a confrontation. He doesn't know what angle it's going to

come from, but he's here to have a confrontation.

Who does he see but peacocking up the graph? And he hollers at them.

I've come a thousand miles to settle this.

I know you're healed. Now fight!

A common phrase for being armed in the West was being healed.

So if you're getting crossways with a guy, go heal yourself.

Or you're healed, start shooting.

Updegraff pulls his weapon and starts shooting.

Bullets are flying.

Two of Bat's and Jim's friends ran up. They started firing on the

south side crowd that was allied with Peacock and Updegraff.

So now the town is getting involved, and now we've got gunshots coming from

everywhere.

Up the graph took a bullet

in his chest. He ultimately survived it, but he took a bullet in the lung.

Mayor A .B. Webster, seeing the lull in the shooting, took the opportunity to

grab his shotgun, run up, and demanded his surrender.

You need to be back.

I've got a place under arrest.

Is Jim okay?

Jim's fine.

You have my word.

And that was the famous Battle of the Plaza in 1881.

Through my life, I've often felt the hand of fortune keeping me from harm.

Certainly I felt it that day.

For even though the air was alive with bullets fired by friend and foe alike, I

escaped unscathed.

Here it is.

Here it is.

It was fined the maximum at that time fee for disturbing the peace.

What'd they say?

You got fined eight bucks for disturbing the peace.

Now what?

Jim very quickly dissolved his partnership with A .J. Peacock, and

and Bat Masterson left town.

Despite the fact that only Uptograph had been injured in the shootout, my

reputation had been shattered.

I was blamed for starting the biggest gunfight Dodge had ever seen.

and I knew my days as a peacekeeper there were over.

Well, Jim, I say it's about time we get the hell out of Dodge.

Bat took that very hard.

Because of his code of conduct, it was important to him that people respected

him, and they respected him for the right reasons. Not so much because he

good gunfighter, but because he was an honest man.

After I left Dodge, the years flew by.

I became well known as a gambler and a sporting man, promoting prize fights

across the country.

As my days in Dodge dwindled into the past, my reputation as a gunfighter grew

more remarkable each time my story was told.

That reputation actually came about about 1881.

He was in Gunnison, Colorado.

There was a New York reporter who had come out west to...

The New York reporter had heard that there was a gunfight every five minutes,

always at noon, showdown in the street.

Dr. Cockrell, who was a friend of Batts, saw what was going on. The reporter was

getting very discouraged and was ready to leave.

Cockrell called him over and said, see that man standing over in the corner?

That gentleman over there is actually the person you want to write about and

person that's actually killed at least 26 to 28 men.

Mr. Masterson, you've got quite a gift for telling stories.

He starts writing for the New York Telegraph, and he gets a very large

because people are, hey, this is a real gunfighter.

And so I began my final career, working as a reporter in New York City.

I had ridden with... or against most of the famous gunfighters who shaped the

lore of the West.

I'd seen the last of the Buffalo, fought the brave and deadly Comanche.

I'd done all that a free man on the frontier could do.

And in the end, I achieved a feat almost none of them accomplished.

I lived at the old age.

Matt was working on his column, and he died over his desk.

Mr. Masterson?

He was halfway through it, and he had said something about how, well, life

really equals out in some ways. The rich man gets his ice in the summer and the

poor man in the winter. And there he was, slumped over that last message.

Masterson is a wonderful transition figure between the real Wild West and

fantasy Wild West. It takes on a whole new life in the 20th century in novels,

in histories, and especially, of course, in motion pictures and then in

television. Bat was a fascinating character in his own right.

I think I remember Bat the most because over the years he's become the household

name he probably never dreamed he would have been at the time.

My name's Masterson, mister.

I think the argument could be made that Matt Masterson was the best lawman in

the West.

I know you're here, now fight!