Bloody Beaver

Bill Tilghman - the legendary lawman best known for hunting down bad guys in Indian Territory - got his start as a teenaged buffalo hunter on the Kansas frontier. After that he spent years patrolling the tough streets of Dodge City with the likes of Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, and Charlie Bassett before moving on to Oklahoma where he did more of the same. Friends with guys like Luke Short and Doc Holliday. Rubbed shoulders with outlaws like Dave Rudabaugh and J.J. Webb, Tilghman wore many hats throughout his life. Senator, husband, father, scout, Rancher, saloon owner, movie producer, actor, and then finally – at the ripe ole age of 70 – Tilghman pinned on a badge yet again to take on the corrupt boom town of Cromwell, Oklahoma. Maybe. Or Maybe not. Join me today as we find out more about the man who - according to Teddy Roosevelt - would charge hell with a bucket. The man who Bat Masterson once said was “the best of all of us” on this newest don’t kill the messenger history is complicated and sometimes our he

Joe Medicine Crow was a mighty war chief amongst his people, the Crow. The Apsáalooke. The Children of the large beak bird. Joe was raised in the traditional way of the Crow and fulfilled all four requirements to become a War Chief of the Crow Nation. The last War Chief. But Joe Medicine Crow was much MUCH more. “With an education, you’re the white man’s equal. Without an education, you’re the white man’s victim” – Joe Medicine Crow Check out my website for more WILD WEST content! Celebrating 100 Years with Dr. Joe Medicine Crow Medicine Crow War Chief Story (Joe Sings) Joe Receives Medal of Freedom

Ned Christie: Ruthless Cherokee outlaw or courageous hero? Murderer or innocent man? If someone had asked me a year ago who Ned Christie was, I’d have probably said he was just another Indian Territory outlaw. In the same vein as Cherokee Bill or Henry Starr. And I don’t think I’m the only person out there with this misconception. Back in the 1970’s Time Life put out a series of books on the old west. And I personally have – in my possession - a copy of the one titled Gunfighters. I’ve had it since I was a wee little lad, and it has seen better days. The pages are no longer bound, they’re all loose and out of order. A testament to the countless hours I spent flipping through its pages when I was a kid.  There are a couple of pictures of Ned Christie in the book. There’s the one when he was still alive - long hair, holding a rifle in one hand, a revolver in the other, and another pistol strapped around his waist.  Looking like an outlaw. And then there’s the other one, where he’s dead. Propped up against a doo

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