All language subtitles for gunslingers_s02e03_bat_masterson_defender_of_dodge

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!