NOTE: My apologies, this was supposed to be posted back in May with a short disclaimer saying that it would be a while till my next post. That being said, since it has been that while, let’s find out the end to that last saga, shall we?

Anyway, it’s 1881, and to catch everyone up to speed, Milt Yarberry, dangerously erratic gunman and constable of Albuquerque, NM Territory has just managed to blow away his romantic rival Harry Brown and get away with it. He continued in office for several weeks and managed not to kill anyone else until the afternoon of June 18, 1881.

On that evening, while Milt was talking with a  buddy on the porch of a house, someone fired a shot, probably in a fit of drunken high spirits. Yarberry rushed to the scene and asked who had done it, and when a bystander pointed out a man walking away, Milt unlimbered his .45 Colt and opened up, firing four shots. The man collapsed and witnesses said Milt rejoiced, saying, “I’ve downed the son of a b-—!”

A coroner’s jury established that the deceased, Charles D. Campbell (ironically a Tennessee native like Brown), had been hit by three shots in the chest and the back. Yarberry’s testimony was that Campbell, a railroad employee who was something of a drinker, had pulled a pistol and threatened him and that he had fired – as always in such cases – in self defense. However, the bullet hole in Campbell’s back raised eyebrows, despite Yarberry’s contention that Campbell had spun around when shot and taken the final bullet in that location. For the record, Campbell, though a drunk, had little reputation for violence and no pistol was found on the deceased, although admittedly it might have been removed by a rubbernecker at the scene.

Arrested and tried, Yarberry’s case divided the community of Albuquerque. He had both friends and enemies in the community, and the testimony at the trial was far from clear as to what had happened on that street in the dark. In the end the jury found Milt Yarberry guilty of murder in the first degree, and set his punishment as death by hanging.

Yarberry made an abortive escape attempt but was recaptured, an event that sealed his guilt in some minds. He resigned himself to his fate, playing his fiddle and bragging to the press from his jail cell. He eventually confided to his closest friend, Sheriff Perfecto Armijo, that his real name was Armstrong and that he was born in Arkansas.

On February 9, 1883 he was marched to the gallows – reportedly the same contraption whose construction he had overseen as constable. He made a speech from the platform, and made the cryptic statement that he was being hanged not for killing Campbell, but because he “killed a son of Governor Brown of Tennessee.” When the mask was drawn over his face, he made his final statement: “Gentlemen, you are hanging an innocent man!”

Innocent or not, the mechanism that sprung the trap was put into gear, and moments later  the man who lived as Milton J. Yarberry shot upwards and died. Today, he lies in Albuquerque’s Mount Calvary Cemetery. An impressive tombstone was placed at his head, paid for by his friends.

It was later stolen, and no trace of it exists today.

After his efforts to foil the robbery of the A.T. & S.F. at Kinsley, Harry Brown received the thanks of his company, and (along with Kinkaide) was hailed as the hero of the hour. He was even given an engraved Winchester rifle as a reward.

Fame seems to have gone to his head, and New Mexico newspapers report that he became an obnoxious braggart in the saloons up and down the line, acting like a goober and bragging of his exploits. He wouldn’t be the first Westerner to let his mouth run wild, but unlike a Bat Masterson or Wild Bill Hickok, his luck couldn’t keep up with his talk.

He was soon a fixture in Albuquerque, where he “hooked up” with a young woman named Sadie Preston. Unfortunately for him, she was already involved with a town constable who went by the unlikely name of Milton J. Yarberry.

Despite his rather goofy sobriquet, Yarberry had a wide reputation as a killer, and it was said he had already gunned down at least three men. Brown, with his own reputation, declared that he wasn’t afraid of Yarberry, who threatened to kill him several times. In retrospect, it seems that Yarberry was what Brown wanted to be – a stone-cold killer. Things came to a head on March 27, 1881.

Brown and Sadie Preston were eating at Girard’s restaurant, while – unbelievably – Yarberry babysat for her, watching her four-year old daughter. The constable soon appeared at the restaurant and led the little girl to her mother, while he and Brown stepped outside to talk.

According to an “ear witness” (a hack driver who had his back to the scene) Brown and Yarberry had a heated discussion, at the conclusion of which Brown stated, “Milt, I want you to understand I am not afraid of you and would not be even if you were Marshal of the United States!” Almost immediately there were gunshots. The hackman turned just in time to see Brown stagger backwards with two bullets in his chest. As he collapsed, Yarberry fired two more into him as he lay on the sidewalk.

Yarberry’s claim was the traditional one – self-defense. He claimed that Brown had been twitchy, trying to get “the drop” on him. When that didn’t work, he said that Brown had slapped him in the face and gone for his gun, and he’d beaten him to the draw. If true, Milt must have been some sort of wizard with a six-gun – witnesses later said that Brown’s pistol was still snugly in its holster when he was carried away. A report in the Nashville press that he had raised up after being shot and stated, “You have murdered me in a cowardly way!” seems unlikely – it looks like Brown was too badly hurt to say anything.

All four of Yarberry’s bullets passed through his body, and he died a short time later. A terse telegram, stating only that “Harry was killed yesterday at 7 o’clock,” was sent to former governor Brown in Nashville, and the young man’s remains were shipped home via Santa Fe and Kansas City. On April 4th, he was buried at Mount Olivet Cemetery, his former friends in the Porter Rifles providing an honor guard for the funeral procession. The grief-stricken father would outlive his son by five years.

Tried for murder, Yarberry was later acquitted. He had many friends who celebrated – but many others in Albuquerque also condemned him as a murderer. Nevertheless, he continued in office as a town constable…at least for the time being.

Next time…the bizarre end of the story of the trigger-happy lawman.

Under a quiet headstone in Mount Olivet Cemetery today rests an honest-to-goodness reminder of the “Wild Wild West” (the real one, not the Will Smith movie). Several western characters passed through Nashville at one time or another, but one of the town’s homegrown gunfighters was actually from a respectable family.

Henry A. Brown was the son of former Whig governor Neill S. Brown, and the nephew of Democrat (and former Confederate general) John Calvin Brown. He lies near his father in the family plot under a headstone that simply bears his name, birth, and death dates. It gives no hint ofthe adventurous life he led.

Born in 1854 at “Idlewild,” his father’s house near Nashville, young Harry grew up during the tumult of the Civil War, during which his father stuck by his guns as one of the most prominent Unionists in town. Following Appomattox he received a good education before turning his sights to the West. In the spring of 1876, the 22-year old Brown joined an exploratory expedition sponsored by Vanderbilt University. He was, said a school chum, “attracted by the promise of the Great West, and…of an adventurous spirit…”

After some time he found employment with the Adams Express Company, one of the nation’s biggest railroad shipping firms, and signed on as an “Express Messenger” – which was a polite way of saying “shotgun guard.” His duty was to protect the property put in charge of the company from bandits and other hazards of the road. This soon put him in close (and uncomfortable) contact with some of the legendary figures of the era.

On the evening January 27, 1878, Brown was aboard an Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe train approaching the whistle stop of Kinsley, Kansas. He had a big parcel to deliver at this stop, and as the car shuddered to a halt, he pushed the door open, holding a lantern and idly wondering how to shove the thing onto the platform.

Unknown to him, some drama had been playing out at the station before the train arrived. Six heavily armed gunmen had held up the night man, Andrew Kinkaide, in preparation for robbing the train. Kinkaide broke away just as the train entered the station and despite being shot at, began to scream the alarm. The startled engineer actually missed the stop and managed to bring the train to a halt several hundred yards past the station. Kinkaide’s quick thinking warned the town, the conductor, and the engineer. However, Brown was isolated in his car and didn’t get the message.

When the door on the car swung open, Brown must have been surprised to see no station – just open prairie and six masked men pointing revolvers at him, ordering him to “shell out.” He stared back at them – and then got busy justifying his salary.

Without hesitation Brown threw his lantern into their faces, startling them and darkening the car. He then grabbed his rifle and opened fire. The bandits shot back and for several seconds there was a lively exchange until the engineer managed to get the train out of range. Nobody was hit on either side, and the outlaws eventually gave it up as a bad business and left empty-handed.

Within hours, posses were on the trail, headed by the legendary sheriff of Ford County, Bartholomew “Bat” Masterson – who was technically out of his jurisdiction. However, with his customary energy Masterson quickly rounded up two of the gangsters. Ed West was a nobody but his partner Dave Rudabaugh was destined for minor fame. At trial, Rudabaugh turned on his partners-in-crime and testified against them in exchange for his freedom. Later, “Dirty Dave” joined Billy the Kid’s gang in New Mexico and was supposedly beheaded at Parral in Mexico in 1886 after seriously ticking off the local rowdies. Christian Slater later played him in the movies.

And as for Harry Brown? Tune in next time for the conclusion of his action-packed story.