Tombstone Gunfight - Tales from a Book from 1883

The famous shooting is often called the "K. Corral gunfight". It happened in Tombstone, Arizona Territory, in October 1881. 

Reading the book Old Mexico and her lost provinces from Henry Bishop - published in 1883 -, I found some interesting tales from someone that visited Tombstone close to the event. 

Here we go with excerpts!

The views of the time:

Our visit happened upon the heels of a conflict making the most tragic page yet written in the annals of Tombstone. Opinions seemed divided about it—even official opinions. The sheriff extended his sympathy to one side, the city marshal, who was, in fact, its leader, to the other.

Describing the gunfight: 

City Marshal Earp, with his two brothers, and one “Doc Holliday,” a gambler, had come down the street, armed with rifles, and opened fire on two Clanton brothers and two McLowry brothers. The latter party had been practically first disarmed by the sheriff, who feared such a meeting, and meant to disarm the others as well. Three of the assailed men fell, and died. “Ike” Clanton alone escaped.

The aftermath: 

The slayers were imprisoned, but released on bail. The Grand Jury was now in session, hearing evidence in the case. It was rumored that the town party—the Earps—would command a sufficient personal influence  to go free of indictment.

(They were freed.) 

Also interesting the Bishop’s take on the definition of cowboys on those times. 

The term cow-boy, once applied to all those in the cattle business indiscriminately, while still including some honest persons, has been narrowed down to be chiefly a term of reproach for a class of stealers of cattle, over the Mexican frontier, and elsewhere, who are a terror in their day and generation. Exceptional desperadoes of this class, such as “Billy the Kid,” “Curly Bill,” and “Russian George,” have been the scourges of whole districts in Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona, and have had their memories embalmed in yellow-covered literature. 

I bought on the train, on leaving, a pamphlet purporting to be an account of the exploits of Billy the Kid. He had committed, it appeared, at least a score of horrid murders, but “so many cities have claimed the honor of giving him birth,” said my pamphlet, “that it is difficult to locate with any accuracy the locality where he passed his youth.

The old tales from the West!