Wild West Podcast

Mobeetiy's Triumphant Heroine: Molly Brennan and her Heartbreaking Sacrifice

Michael King/Brad Smalley

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Imagine strolling into a saloon and locking eyes with a man whose hatred for you is palpable. Welcome to a tumultuous evening in a Wild West Texas settlement, Mobeetiy, where confrontations brew, and gunfire could break out at any moment. In this high-stakes setting, we revisit my conflicted relationship with the despised Corporal Melvin King, whose return to town sends shockwaves of fear among the locals. Gracing this episode is Billy Dixon, a seasoned buffalo hunter and a friend who unearths a chilling prophecy of King's brewing revenge. This predicament forces me to make a life-altering decision that could either mark me as a victim or a victor. 

Brace yourself for a heart-wrenching tale of love and sacrifice that unfolds amid this tension. In this episode, we explore the depth of Bat Masterson's connection with the captivating Molly Brennan, whose actions prove that love knows no bounds or fear. Get ready to be moved by a real-life love story that outshines any fictional romance, where a woman's love is tested against the harsh realities of the Old West. The climax of this episode will rip your heart out, as Molly makes the ultimate sacrifice, choosing to stand in the line of fire for Bat Masterson. This tragic twist of fate binds us forever, leaving Masterson indebted to her in ways words cannot express. Tune in to experience a rollercoaster of emotions as love and danger intertwine in an unforgettable saga of the Wild West.

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If you'd like to buy one or more of our fully illustrated dime novel publications, you can click the link I've included.

"Edward Masterson and the Texas Cowboys," penned by Michael King, takes readers on an exhilarating ride through the American West, focusing on the lively and gritty cattle town of Dodge City, Kansas. This thrilling dime novel plunges into the action-packed year of Ed Masterson's life as a lawman, set against the backdrop of the chaotic cattle trade, filled with fierce conflicts, shifting loyalties, and rampant lawlessness. You can order the book on Amazon.

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Music. Every resident of Mobeity was the acquaintance, if not the friend, of every other resident of this small settlement, by an impression of citizenship common to both, and Sergeant King was well known. The townspeople were shocked to learn that Corporal Melvin King had returned. Many of the townspeople despised him and confessed to no love for King. Rumor had it that King had been run out of Abilene as the upshot of an enterprise wherein he combined a six-shooter with a deck of cards. The cards were improperly marked, resulting in the death of a gentleman who played draw poker against King. All knew King as a creature that was most detested among the soldiers. King was a blusterer and a bully and when a bit unbuckled by too much rum, he would boast that the bloody had spilled. The thought of King's return made the settlement all weary of what might happen in the evenings to come. I, on the other hand, spent less of my worries on Corporal Melvin King and much of my attention on Molly Brennan Music. I visited with Molly from time to time after she would get off work from Charlie Norton's place. I found great pleasure in her company and would greet her after long nights dealing at the Farrow Table. I caught frequent glimpses of her in town and we would at times eat breakfast together at the Santa Ana Restaurant. I had grown fond of the flapjacks in this place and Molly laughed at my stories on how I pulled off certain practical jokes while hunting buffalo in the Texas Panhandle. I cannot deny I was attracted to her. Although I did not want her to think that I was reliable, I still had adventure in my blood and knew that soon we would have to part our ways.

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It was on the cold brisk Friday morning of January 21st 1876, when Corporal King and a few soldiers rode in from Fort Elliott. Molly and I had just departed the Santa Ana Restaurant and decided to take a short stroll along the boardwalk before returning to work. King and the five other soldiers hitched their horses in front of Charlie Norton's place. Molly froze at the sight of King entering Norton's saloon. Can we stop right here, molly requested. I cannot go any further. Molly reached her hand out to mine, then looked away, clenching and unclenching her hands into fists. I snickered but found no easiness about her sudden change and mannerism. She seemed fearful of seeing the soldiers enter Norton's place. It's him, she hesitated. It's Corporal King. Molly desperately tried to hide how fearful she was Every time he enters the saloon there is no mercy on the guest.

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He knows and understands my bitterness toward him. He has been warned on many occasions to stay his distance from me. Yet I can feel his black eyes burn into my soul with a hungry fire. Half hidden from others, I can sense his desires for me bursting into flame. Molly was hesitant and had difficulty in controlling the tremor in her voice. He makes no secret of those sentiments that sweep down on him with his fellow comrades when he is around. I can feel his glances play about me like a tongue of fire.

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I agreed to walk Molly the distance to Norton's saloon. When Molly and I entered through the front door, a sizable, pot-bellied stove in the center of the room gave off a remnant of smoke. Through the haze of smoke I caught a glimpse of King lounging next to the doorway, looking through the window. He turned and stared at me. I could feel King's hatred. The knowledge of the sight of me shone upon him with a red hatefulness that was arrayed from the pits of hell. His evil presence buzzed around me like a fly. I could not swat. But in his eyes I saw something else. It was like he told himself he knew he'd have to make me pay for his pain grew darker by the moment I extended my left arm to get Molly out of harm's way. I slowly moved my right hand to the handle of my Colt-45 revolver when, out of nowhere, a voice echoed out of the shadows. Damned if it's not my good friend Masterson.

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Keeping my eyes on King, the tension in the room lifted with the voice of Billy Dixon coming from the dark corner of the room. I could hear Billy's laughter as he approached me. Good day, mr Masterson, he stated in a jovial manner. It looks like you're in the middle of making a new friend with us here at Corporal King, he said. Billy then looked directly at Corporal King. You do not mind if I take my friend away from your conversation to join my six friends over at the bar, do you? Inquired Dixon.

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Billy and I pulled up to an open space at the bar. We both ordered coffee, as we knew we had to keep our wits in good order. Billy leaned forward. That man is like an icicle, billy whispered. You must have touched a jealous spur with him. You have aroused in him a mindless fury. That's like the blind anger of an animal. I shook my head, agreed with Billy's assessment and continued to listen. I can see that his vanity was aroused to the edge by you and Molly's presence, and within him he is feeling the sense of loss that sharpens him for retaliation. Billy held up his index finger and tapped it on the bar several times and stated you better watch your back, masterson, or he will someday try to kill you when you're not aware".

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Dixon turned to me and looked directly into my eyes and said with sincerity I have seen men like this go to the farthest end of contentment, especially when they feel in the rough. These are the type of men who have been reared in blood and make their reprisal with the death of a man. It's well worth their time to see death and vengeance set aside for the evil intent to seek self-justice. In King's mind, you are his enemy and you must die. You should end this soon, masterson, for he's plotting against you. Take him or he will take you.

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Within seconds of Billy's last words to me, king shouted across the room there's a haughts thief here in this room. It was in King's words that I knew he was talking about me. Billy was right. He wanted to pick a fight with me. King understood the rules of gunplay and if he called me out and I welcomed the call, he could shoot me with no recourse. I thought to myself. The rules to govern western gunplay do not permit the shooting of one's enemy in the back. It is one's notifying duty to arouse him. Once he is on his guard and reaching for his artillery, one is licensed to begin his downfall. A violation of these laws leads to a vigilance committee, a rope and a nearest tree.

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Then came the second call from King. There's a haughts thief in here. I'd like to kill His word. Kill alerted me. But most of all, being called a hoarse thief, boiled anger deep in my system. The anger churned within, hungry for destruction, and I knew in a split second it was too much for me to handle. A sprang from the bar stool was instantly upon my threat. I kicked King's chair from beneath him and aroused him to his feet. I allowed the darkness I felt swallow me whole for a split second. But now I was steady with my emotions. I reckon I'm the hoarse thief you refer to.

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I said my six shooter was pointed squarely at the plotting head of Corporal King. The hammer of the colt, fully cocked, pointed into King's open mouth. I saw in his eyes the reflection of the gray fire of my own eyes, as King had frozen all his motions to me. Do you feel a clutch of the grave upon you? I shouted. I could feel the pause within the room, a tomb of silence so surreal that I could hear every heartbeat but mine, for I had grown cold.

Speaker 1:

While the room was strung out in tension. The tenseness in the room felt like a bow waiting for me to pull the trigger on what would be the fatal crash. My senses now registered the four seconds that went ticking into the past. It felt as if the passing of ages. My advance on the accuser was so quickly stunning that I now held my pistol within an inch of King's transfixed face. Then, with no hesitation, I struck King on the head with such a crushing blow I could hear his skull crack beneath my barrel. King dropped like a log of wood, his pistol falling from his fingers and rattling onto the boarded floor. I replaced my weapon in the belted holster and kicked King's gun into a nook of safety. I looked around the room and all was back to normal business as King laid unconscious to the world around him.

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It was during those four seconds in time that Billy Dexon and the boys held back the soldiers. Once King recovered, billy gave King and his men a friendly escort out the front door. While I attended to the frightened company of Molly Brennan, I heard Billy give his advice to the departing Corporal King and his men. It's the notion of Moe Beatty you'd better pull your freight. Here's your gun, there's your horse, and if you've got a lick of savvy, by noon tomorrow you'll be either in Tescosa, fort Elliot or Fort Sill. Any one of them is a heap healthier than Moe Beatty, which, for you at least, might be described as a mighty sickly camp.

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Corporal King rode off to the west. As he disappeared, where the trail led over to Low Hill, mr Dexon nodded a foreboding head. Billy returned to the bar and sat next to Molly and I. He pointedly said Masterson, you ought to have downed him. The incident is over, I said with frank accord. I raised my glass and called for a toast To employment of the panhandle method. Billy had the final word. Yes, but if you would have used the Colt 45 method and emptied it into the head or the heart of Corporal King, moe Beatty would have celebrated by taking the rest of the day off.

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It was nine on a moonless night on January 24th 1876, when I walked down the boardwalk of the small settlement of Moe Beatty, the most part of its citizens were gathered in the general store bar or what other Emporia best attracted their favor. There were no street lamps and the streets were almost deserted, since no one cared to risk a shin, to blunder and stumble in the dark. It was a big night for the Lady Gay, a celebration of sorts had been proclaimed and Charlie Norton had closed his saloon to honor the tides of custom. He wanted to support the occasion in rising to an unusual height. When I entered the saloon, there was a busy dozen about the Faro table, which stood in the end of the bar in an equal number bent noisily over Monte. At the Monte table I noticed the diversion of a care-worn Mexican who looked as though luck had run against him. In the far end, a poker game prevailed. My job was to run the Faro table for the evening and I took my place.

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Shortly after nine I looked over at one of the tables and observed a somber king who seemed to be brooding over a bottle of rum. He looked back at me, seeing a twitch of cynic humor in his sinister depths as he half curled his lips with a smile. The Mexican lost his last peso at Monte and drew out of the eager fringe about the table. Corporal King called him with a motion of his hand. The Mexican approached, received the whispered directions, took the gold piece, tendered and disappeared by the time Corporal King had taken another drink. The Mexican had let his pony saddled and bridled to the door of the Lady Gay and stood holding it by the bits.

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It was then. I thought to myself that Corporal King was opening the gate for a final flight. I called Ben Thompson to take over the pharaoh table and told him I had to keep an eye on a possible situation. I nodded in the direction of Corporal King who at that time gulped down the more significant portion of rum remaining in his bottle. Thompson agreed and I moved over to the gambling table. I took my position next to a small door and sat in with Henry Fleming and Jim Duffy. I asked Jim if he had seen Molly. Jim told me she was attending to Mr Kimball's wife, a Mexican woman who had grown ill. I looked back to the table where King was sitting. The table was empty. The evening grew late and the Lady Gay started to close.

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It was at this time when Molly appeared. She walked up to the table where I was sitting and said Did you want to see me? Corporal King said you wanted to see me. I don't understand. I said it was in this instance. I heard another voice, the voice of Corporal King. That's what she said, masterson, but I believe tonight you're going to need an undertaker.

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I looked over in the direction of the side door, where I had been sitting, and saw King. He was running through the side door drawing his pistol from his holster. Next came a flash and a roar. King advanced on me so quickly that I did not have time to react. His pistol was instantly pressed against my side. I felt the lead tear through my body.

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The pain seared through my hip like a branding iron. My mind conceded to the torment and I was unable to bring a thought to completion. My legs turned to jelly. I could barely see, for the shock of pain overwhelmed me. I reached for my holster and drew my gun and fired. I heard a second shot.

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At the time my revolver discharged. I saw Molly fall in front of me when she had cleared, hitting the floor hard. I could see King falling backward. I heard him hit the floor. I grabbed the door frame, bracing me from a fall. I looked at down King lying on the floor. I pulled the hammer back on my pistol and pointed in the direction of King. I was ready to discharge the second round when I heard King take his last breath. My shot hit him through the heart as blood poured out from his chest and out of his mouth. I staggered for a few seconds more, clinging to the door frame and waving my pistol in his direction. I then fell to my knees in unbelief.

Speaker 1:

Molly had saved me from the second shot. She laid before me, uttering in a cry of horror. She was still clutching the murderous pistol and a driven King's revolver into her bosom. Molly had taken the second bullet for me. I raised Molly into my arms to comfort her. She opened her blue eyes swimming with love. She said you wanted me, whispered the fair maiden. I looked into the soft depths of her closing eyes and saw the love, and I knew it was for me. Even as I gazed upon her face, the warm lights failed and faded and in my arms my fair maiden lay dead. I looked into the soft depths of her eyes and saw the love, and I knew it was for me.

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