Leon Metz has pieced together, for the first time, all that is known of John Selman, a shadowy figure in Texas and New Mexico during the unsettled, often violent, period after the Civil War. Unlike many of his comrades--including the most notorious outlaws of his time--John Selman did not wish to become well known. Indeed, his penchant for assumed names indicates he did not wish to be known at all. Selman was an enigmatic man of many parts: he was an oldest son, responsive to the needs of his mother and siblings; a soldier with a talent for leadership--until his unexplained desertion from the Confederate Army; a husband and father; a rancher who struggled with, and murdered, would-be grangers; and a devoted friend to an evil influence named John Larn, with whom he seemed to kill for sport. As the Southwest became more settled, so did John Selman. At the end of his career, when he was a constable in El Paso, Selman lost his anonymity for all time: He was the man who killed John Wesley Hardin. Metz explores the stories surrounding Hardin's death--some said Selman shot Hardin in the back. Including rare photographs, Metz presents his conclusions about this legendary gunfighter.
Biography of the man who killed Billy the Kid, this thorough and well-written analysis deals effectively with almost every question that has been raised about the controversial life and death of Pat Garrett.
Before Dallas Stoudenmire accepted the position as marshal of El Paso, there existed no authority except that of the six-shooter, and very little precedent for a peace officer to follow. No one before had held the job for more than a couple of months. Yet, within two years, with the help of Jim Gillett, his young deputy, Stoudenmire had cleaned up the town, a task that earned him many enemies and, in the end, death. This is the story of Dallas Stoudenmire-auburn-haired, fiery-eyed, six-foot, two-inch gunfighter, container of laughter, liquor, and death-during the two tumultuous years in the early 1880’s when he served as almost the only law north of the Rio Grande and west of Fort Worth.
Thus spoke one lawman about John Wesley Hardin, easily the most feared and fearless of all the gunfighters in the West. Nobody knows the exact number of his victims-perhaps as few as twenty or as many as fifty. In his way of thinking, Hardin never shot a man who did not deserve it. Seeking to gain insight into Hardin’s homicidal mind, Leon Metz describes how Hardin’s bloody career began in post-Civil War Central Texas, when lawlessness and killings were commonplace, and traces his life of violence until his capture and imprisonment in 1878. After numerous unsuccessful escape attempts, Hardin settled down and received a pardon years later in 1895. He wrote an autobiography but did not live to see it published. Within a few months of his release, John Selman gunned him down in an El Paso saloon.
Thus spoke one lawman about John Wesley Hardin, easily the most feared and fearless of all the gunfighters in the West. Nobody knows the exact number of his victims-perhaps as few as twenty or as many as fifty. In his way of thinking, Hardin never shot a man who did not deserve it. Seeking to gain insight into Hardin’s homicidal mind, Leon Metz describes how Hardin’s bloody career began in post-Civil War Central Texas, when lawlessness and killings were commonplace, and traces his life of violence until his capture and imprisonment in 1878. After numerous unsuccessful escape attempts, Hardin settled down and received a pardon years later in 1895. He wrote an autobiography but did not live to see it published. Within a few months of his release, John Selman gunned him down in an El Paso saloon.
Biography of the man who killed Billy the Kid, this thorough and well-written analysis deals effectively with almost every question that has been raised about the controversial life and death of Pat Garrett.
Before Dallas Stoudenmire accepted the position as marshal of El Paso, there existed no authority except that of the six-shooter, and very little precedent for a peace officer to follow. No one before had held the job for more than a couple of months. Yet, within two years, with the help of Jim Gillett, his young deputy, Stoudenmire had cleaned up the town, a task that earned him many enemies and, in the end, death. This is the story of Dallas Stoudenmire-auburn-haired, fiery-eyed, six-foot, two-inch gunfighter, container of laughter, liquor, and death-during the two tumultuous years in the early 1880’s when he served as almost the only law north of the Rio Grande and west of Fort Worth.
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