He was an expert poker-player, and followed no other calling while in Kansas City. The place was fairly filled with gamblers, and up to 1875 the voice of the keno caller could be heard in nearly every other building on Main street, between Missouri avenue and Fourth street. The Marble block, and houses on the west side of the square, were particularly the haunts of gamblers. Murders and rows were not infrequent, but Bill kept out of all difficulties. He was both feared and respected. His carriage was that of a peaceable gentleman, and during the three years he made Kansas City his home, he was a party to but one row, and that was of minor consequence. This difficulty occurred in the St. Nicholas Hotel bar-room, owned by Joe Siegmund, now the proprietor of a hotel in Malvern, Arkansas. A foppish fellow, half-drunk, being told that the party drinking at the bar was Wild Bill, went up to him, and, in a most provoking manner, asked Bill if he was the desperado who had been killing men indiscriminately out West. The impertinent inquiry called forth from Bill an equally insulting reply. The fellow, evidently bent on a row, then began to talk of shooting, and his ability “to lick any border ruffian that ever lived.” Bill walked up to him slowly, and as the senseless fop was attempting to draw a pistol, he caught him by one ear and slapped his face until the fellow howled for mercy.
A PRIZE FIGHT IN A CHICAGO BILLIARD ROOM.
In 1874 Bill engaged in a battle with a tribe of Indians under Black-Kettle, in which he received a severe wound from a spear thrust through his thigh. Being very much disabled he paid a visit to his aged mother and relatives at Troy Grove, Illinois, where he remained some weeks and until the wound healed. Before returning west he went to Chicago to see his old friend, Heman Baldwin, and while there the two entered the St. James Hotel bar to play a game of billiards. While being thus engaged seven Chicago roughs began bantering him on account of the buckskin clothes he wore and challenged him for a prize fight. Bill replied to them that he was not a fighting man, and that he was at that time still suffering from a newly healed wound. They continued their insults, and finally told him that he had to fight or acknowledge that he was a coward and his reported exploits bogus. Bill’s courage came to the surface quickly enough, and drawing his two pistols—both of which were presents to him from Vice-President Wilson—the fight began, one man against seven. The pistols were used as “billys,” and in a few seconds the seven roughs were stretched upon the floor and completely at Bill’s mercy. The injuries they received consisted of severe scalp wounds, the marks from which will be carried through life.
BILL’S MARRIAGE TO MRS. LAKE.
In the fall of 1874, Bill met Mrs. Lake, the widow of William Lake, proprietor of Lake’s circus, who was killed by Jack Keenan at Granby, Missouri, in 1873. The meeting was purely accidental, but the consequences were matrimonial. A courtship followed, and in the early part of 1875 the two were married by a justice of the peace in Kansas City. Within a few months after the marriage Bill became afflicted with sore eyes, from which he suffered intensely, and for the period of nine months was unable to distinguish daylight from darkness. Dr. Thorne, previously noticed as one of Bill’s confidants, was his physician, and succeeded in restoring his sight, but his eyes never regained their former strength, and the vision remained impaired. In the winter of 1875–76, a separation occurred between Bill and his wife, the causes of which we deem it improper to relate in this epitome of his life. Suffice it to say that those best qualified to decide, claim that no blame attaches to Bill for the termination of his marital relation. No divorce, we believe, was ever applied for by either party, but they never met after the spring of 1876. The writer has tried for two years to learn the address and whereabouts of Mrs. Hickok, nee Mrs. Lake, but his efforts have been without avail. The last heard of her she was living in Cincinnati.
MAKES HIS DEBUT ON THE STAGE.
In February, 1876, Wild Bill entered into an engagement with Ned Buntline, (Judson,) the novelist who created Buffalo Bill and his exploits, to appear as a leading character in a border play he had written for the stage. The troupe was made up in New York, and the principal actors were Wild Bill, Buffalo Bill and Texas Jack. The business was a most disagreeable one for Wild Bill, who entered into the engagement solely under the pressure of pecuniary needs. The authorities of Kansas City had so vigorously prosecuted the gamblers that the professionals were compelled to abandon their games, and thus Bill became, to use his own expression, “severely money-bound.” Buntline, with a vivid imagination running at all times through carnage and lawlessness, employed his best ability in getting up the posters heralding the appearance of his troupe. Wild Bill was posted in large, blood-red letters as having killed thirty-six men, and the most desperate man that ever set foot on the plains. His nature arose with revolt at such a publicity of his character, and after playing the role of a border bandit for two months, he peremptorily refused to appear on the stage any longer.