Bloody Beaver

In the spring of 1883, a group of very dangerous men began gathering outside of Dodge City, Kansas. Men with names like Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, Shotgun Collins, and Doc Holliday. Killers, all of ‘em. Men familiar with the weight of a revolver in hand and the smell of black powder smoke. They gathered to rally around one man, their compadre who had recently been forced out of town by a crooked mayor and a small army of vigilantes. That man’s name was Luke Short. A cowboy turned scout turned gambler who earned himself quiet the reputation as a man handy with the iron. What events transpired that forced Luke out of the rough cow town of Dodge City? How did he come to be friends with the likes of Wyatt Earp? How short was Luke Short, anyway? And is it true that if you don’t use it, you’ll lose it? Find out all of this and more on this newest “if your gonna get into a gunfight, make damn sure you shoot first” edition of The Wild West Extravaganza! Check out this article via the good folks at Legends Of America

When one thinks of the great judges of Yore, certain names stand out above the rest. Names like Judge Harold T. Stone. Judge Judith Sheindlin. Judges Wapner, Mathis, and Joe Brown. Judge Reinhold, Judge Dredd and Mike Judge all bear remembering. But towering over these colossal judicial minds stands one man, one legend so interwoven into the fabric of modern-day jurisprudence you’d be remise not to pay him homage. And that man’s name was Roy Damn Bean. That’s right - Judge Roy Bean - to be exact. The law west of the Pecos known for serving up both justice as well as tasty beverages from his courtroom/saloon known as the Jersey Lilly located in a little fart of a town in west Texas known as Langtry. All rise! Court is now in session on this newest OVERRULED edition of the Wild West Extravaganza! Visit my website for more true stories from the wild and woolly west. Check out my Patreon for bonus content or to support the podcast. Head on over to my YouTube and hit that subscribe button! Roy Bean's Hanging, an e

"I've labored long and hard for bread, For honor, and for riches, But on my corns too long you've tread, You fine-haired sons of bitches." These are the words of Black Bart, the gentleman bandit who preferred to leave poems at the scene of the crime rather than dead bodies. Black Bart wasn’t a killer and he never really hurt anyone, except maybe for Wells Fargo, who’s stagecoaches he robbed at least 28 times throughout his career, taking thousands of dollars in the process. Black Bart would pay for his crimes by doing a stretch in California’s notorious San Quentin prison and upon his release he vanished. Or did he? Who was the mysterious Black Bart? Where’d he come from? Where did he disappear to? Why did he hate Wells Fargo so much? Check out the website for more true tales from the Old West https://www.wildwestextra.com/   Email me! https://www.wildwestextra.com/contact/   Buy me a coffee! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/wildwest   Free Newsletter! https://wildwestjosh.substack.com/   Join Into History for ad