Part 5- The Legend Grows
At 4:45pm, Billy, stepped into the Perpetual Bank, dressed to the nines. The bank was more crowded than usual, something Billy had not anticipated. Just twenty minutes earlier, he’d seen a man from the mining company and two guards bring in a box. They had since left and Billy knew the timing was right. Billy had become a familiar face in town and no one thought anything of it when he took his place in line. A man and his wife, the Ellergraf’s stood about three spots in front of Billy. Even though the space was small and cramped, they were having an intense debate about her spending habits. Suddenly, Mr. Ellergraf backhanded his young bride, for back talking and her lip began to show a small trickle of blood which she blotted with her handkerchief. Everyone else in line became silent and Mrs. Ellergraf struggled to keep from crying. Billy noted the time—4:55pm. The banker came out from behind the counter to turn the sign in the window to “Closed” and lock the door while the other customers finished their business. Billy stepped over to the banker and placed his big barrel in the banker’s back—the banker felt the hard steel and suddenly realized what was happening. He’d noticed the size of Billy’s gun earlier and could only imagine what it would do to him if it was fired in his back. Billy leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Keep your hands down and don’t say anything.” The two of them stepped behind the counter and no one else even seemed to notice. Stepping behind the barred counter, Billy unlocked a side door and his two accomplices slipped in. At that point, people began to stir but Billy stepped back behind the counter to calm the panicking customers. “Folks, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re not going to take any of your personal items. We’ve come to take what belongs to the Crooked Back Mining Company—in case you haven’t noticed, they’ve been stealing from you for years by working you and your loved ones to death in those dark death pits.” Billy smiled and tipped to a lady as he surveyed each of the hostages faces, Mr. Ellergraf sneered at Billy and said, “You’ll hang for this you bastard!” Billy took his big barrel and slapped Mr. Ellergraf across the face with it. As he fell to the floor, Billy took his boot and stomped on his face several times before giving him a hard kick in the ribs. “Listen to me, you filthy son of a bitch,” Billy said, “if you ever hit your wife again I’ll shove my long barrel so far down your throat that you’ll be shitting your brains.” Then, turning to the ladies in the lobby he smiled, lifted his hat and said “Excuse me ladies’ for my coarse language.” Mrs. Ellergraf looked very pleased at the handsome cowboy. “How’s it coming back there, fellas?” Billy called to his two friends. Big Jim and Wade had finished emptying the teller’s cash drawers and the regular safe but the banker was refusing to open the larger safe containing the last two weeks of holdings of the mine company. Wade pulled a single stick of dynamite and said, “We can door this the easy way or the hard way”—finally the banker said, “I don’t know the combination—I only know half of it—the mine company financier has the other three numbers.” “I guess it’s the hard way,” laughed Big Jim. Billy directed everyone along the counter to shield from the blast as Big Jim loaded the already knabbed bags onto his horse just outside the door. Within 40 seconds, a large blast opened the safe. Everyone inside was okay and Tom was busy loading the gold bars but the blast had sent glass and debris into the street. Billy told those along the counter they were free to go as he knew he’d be shooting his way out of town. Billy stepped out onto the boardwalk to offer any needed covering fire when he saw two guards from the mine company coming at him quickly on foot. One of them was drawing a pistol and the other was lowering a scatter gun in Billy’s direction. Like a flash of lighting, Billy drew his enormous pistol from his rig and with careful precision, dropped the hammer once sending his .45 caliber slug through the first guard’s jugular at nearly 50 feet. The remaining guard was so unnerved that he fired too low and too soon, sending a round ricocheting past Billy’s leg. Billy took aim and fired a single shot right through the man’s head. Just then, Wade and Big Jim burst around the corner on horseback with Billy’s horse in tow, Billy jumped onto his horse and off they rode, unopposed as the others headed out of town another way.
In the aftermath of the robbery, Mr. Wright the owner of the Crooked Back Mine wanted answers. He asked the local sheriff to find out everything he could about the young stranger. It didn’t take long for someone to pinpoint that the stranger among them had been Big Barrel Billy, also known as Ten Inch Johnson. What no one in town knew was how he got his name. Sherriff Moore sent off for Marshall Laremy who had first published the poster and reward for Billy. Marshall Laremy began to ask around town and found out that Big Barrel Billy had been staying at Mrs. Broadwick’s Boarding House, so that’s where he made his first stop. Mrs. Broadwick proved to be uncooperative. She said she had no idea that the young stranger was a famous outlaw. In fact, she said she’d hardly spoken to him more than a few times. However, one of the boarders, stopped Marshall Laremy and said he had something to share. Mr. Alexander described how he'd seen Mr. Johnson helping Mrs. Broadwick with dishes and the two of them seemed to be on very close and friendly terms. Most telling, he explained that his room was directly above Mrs. Broadwick’s and that almost nightly, he could hear Mrs. Broadwick moaning. Marshall Laremy said, “What do you mean, moaning?” Mr. Alexander cleared his throat, “You know, like she was having relations.”
“Continue,” interjected the Marshall.
“I’d hear her moaning and gasping. Sometimes she’d get very loud. At first, I thought maybe she was masturbating since she was a prim and proper widowed lady, but I became more and more aware that she was with a man. I’d hear her bed squeaking and I could feel the vibrations in the floor. I’d even hear sounds of intercourse and her say things.”
“Sounds of intercourse?” asked Marshall Laremy.
“Yes, things were slapping—balls or breasts—I don’t know” added Mr. Alexander.
“And what about the things you heard being said?” continued the Marshall.
“I heard her saying things about the size of his genitals. And, others in the house also heard this. We even discussed it on our lunch breaks in the mine a time or two.”
Marshall Laremy knew immediately this had to be Big Barrel Billy. “Thank you for your information,” said the Marshall.
Marshall Laremy returned to Mrs. Broadwick’s room and told her she’d need to come with him down to the Sherriff’s office. There, in a room with 4 other men, the sheriff, a reporter, a detective with the mining agency and a newspaper man, Marshall Laremy confronted Mrs. Broadwick—“Mrs. Broadwick, we know that you rented a room to a man known to you as C. E. Johnson—is that correct?”
“Yes,” she said.
“We have a first-hand report from one of your boarders that he personally observed a closer than usual relationship between you and Mr. Johnson. He even tells us that he—and others—heard you in the throes of passion late into the night with Mr. Johnson.”
Mrs. Broadwick realized that the walls were paper thin and that she’d probably been too loud.
Ashamedly, she replied, “Mr. Johnson and I did fall into a romantic relationship while he was here but I didn’t want it to become known. I didn’t know he was an outlaw. And yes, we did know one another carnally.”
All of the men leaned forward, secretly turned on to have this privilege to peer into the sex life of an otherwise upright woman. They realized they could ask questions to fulfill their voyeuristic fantasies in the name of investigation.
“Did Mr. Johnson tell you anything of his past or his plans for the future?”
“No,” Mrs. Broadwick lied, “All he told me was that he was from Nebraska, his family is all dead, and he wanted to start a new life as a cattle rancher.”
“Tell us more about your sexual relations with Mr. Johnson,” the reporter interrupted, “how many times did you two make love in the two plus weeks he resided here?” he asked.
Mrs. Broadwick paused, “It started on the fourth night he was here and continued every night he was here.”
“How long did these sessions last?” Asked the sheriff.
“Anywhere from 30 minutes to 3 hours” she replied.
“Did you enjoy the sex?”
“It was the best of my life,” she said rather smugly.
“And how did his penis compare to your late husband’s?” asked the Sherriff.
“I loved my husband very much, God rest his soul, but he was not equipped to please a female like Mr. Johnson” came her direct response.
The newspaper man had many questions but he finally managed the nerve to ask, “Could you please give us the best description of Mr. Johnson’s genitals? We have come to understand in recent days from Marshall Laremy that the size of his penis and the two testicles he carries in his low hanging scrotum give reason for his nicknames “Big Barrel Billy” and “Ten Inch Johnson.”
“I would say that is correct,” agreed Mrs. Broadwick. “Mr. Johnson has both the largest and finest johnson I have ever observed on a male subject. I would say that it is without equal in bringing a woman to climax and anyone who has ever seen it would be sure to remember this one feature above all other details about the man—though he has many fine details,” she said.
“But how big is it?” The reporter pressed.
Marshall Laremy, tired of Mrs. Broadwick’s antics, pulled his stiff cock from his trousers, much to the chagrin and amusement of the other men in the room. He waved it in the lady’s face and said, “I bet he wasn’t this big was he?” Mrs. Broadwick carefully looked at the Marshall’s stiff cock and then arrogantly into his eyes and said, “You’re not a third of the size of Big Barrel Billy. He puts you to shame!” The other men laughed but Marshall Laremy slapped Mrs. Broadwick hard across the face and yelled, “Bitch!” Mrs. Broadwick then turned to the reporter and said, “To answer your question—he’s as long as my forearm and thicker than my wrist. I was never able to handcuff his shaft in my hand.”
“Enough” Marshall Laremy cried, “Get this whore out of my sight!”
The next day, the paper presented a front-page story about this young good-looking outlaw. Though the paper tried to come short of giving too much detail for fear of offending some of its readership, there was enough innuendo and implication that no one was left in the dark. Everyone new that Big Barrel Billy was called as such not simply because of his long-barreled Colt. The town and entire southwest was abuzz with even more juicy details being spread by word of mouth and rumor and not just with ink. Immediately, Big Barrel Billy was a sex symbol if such a thing were possible in the 19th century America. Women heard reports of an outlaw who had struck it rich through sheer daringness and skill, who was muscular, ridiculously handsome, well-dressed, well-mannered, and well-hung. His acts of kindness and chivalry towards women, from the supposed money he left behind for Mrs. Broadwick (which no one could seem to prove, to his allowing of women to keep their belongings, to his putting of a battered-woman’s husband in his place, made him the fantasy of every woman who had been dragged west across the Mississippi for the promise of a better life that never seemed to pan out. Big Barrel Billy was the kind of man that none of their husband’s, fiancés, suitors, or prospects seemed to be. As these stories spread, so did Billy’s success with women. From rendezvous on train cars, frontier women who were willing to hide him for a night or two, to getting free favors in the whore house, Billy began to fill the pages of his little black book with women more than willing to get a chance to experience the sensations his cock alone could provide.
For the next few years year, the Six of Spades gang seemed to play a game of cat and mouse with authorities, ducking in and out of Colorado, Kansas, the Texas Panhandle, New Mexico, and Arizona. Wherever they’d go, Big Barrel Billy had a way of making sure people understood how he got his nickname. He seemed to find a woman in every town he came to. Billy wasn’t exactly a fan of whorehouses as were the rest of the guys in the gang. Billy preferred use the reputation had received as a daring, handsome bandit to seduce willing women without having to pay for services. There were plenty of women who gave themselves whole heartedly to him. Each one felt not only the fires of lust, but even the flame of love due to his ability to sweet talk them. In every town, Billy always had a warm bed and warm body waiting for him while the other men had to spend their money by the hour to spend the night in a bed. Occasionally, Billy would break down and pay for a whore because they’d hid out in a place where there were no other available women. The other men members of the gang complained that it was hard to fuck when their whore was silent while everyone within a mile radius could hear Big Barrel Billy’s whore moaning and crying out in genuine pain or ecstasy—which ever in was—from the pounding he was giving her.
