Houston had long wanted to relocate his family, and he had Texas in mind. So, in 1873, they loaded up a covered wagon and headed east. One of Houston’s great-uncles had a ranch in Ellis County, just a few miles southeast of Fort Worth. That was their destination. But first Houston had a pledge to keep. In every town and village, at every ranch and roundup, Houston inquired about the man with connections to Robert Carlisle in California.

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One day he got the lead he had known would come sooner or later. After setting up camp and making sure his family would be all right for a few hours, he headed across the open range. Shortly after sunset, with a full Texas moon rising over the distant mountains, he came upon a man cooking over a camp fire. ‘Good evening, mister,’ Houston said. ‘I’m looking for a man. A friend of Bob Carlisle who had the Chino Ranch in California. Could it be you’re that man?’ ‘Could be,’ the man answered. ‘Who are you?’ ‘I’m one of the King family,’ Houston said, and he drew his weapon.

A few days later, a cowboy riding cross-country found the body lying next to the cold ashes of a campfire. As was the custom of those times, the cowboy buried the body, then rode on. The score was settled, and the family code was intact. Houston rejoined his family and the next morning headed toward his great-uncle’s ranch.

And it was there that Frank King, son of Houston King and author of the book from which most of these facts were taken, became a cowboy. First working for his great-great uncle and then for his father, Frank took to the rugged life of punching cattle and working roundups. The years rolled by, and one day Frank decided to go out on his own. He headed west, to Arizona Territory — the land of the Earps, Doc Holliday and Johnny Ringo. Frank was gregarious by nature, and he brushed elbows with many of these legendary figures of the Old West and survived to tell about it.

Around 1890, Frank took a job breaking 75 head of mustangs for rancher Sam Webb near Phoenix. Upon completion of that bone-pounding job, Frank declared he was finished with cow-punching and bronco-busting forever. ‘What’re you going to do?’ a friend asked. ‘Well,’ Frank said, ‘I always wanted to be a newspaper man and by Jingo I’m going to give it a try.’ John Dunbar, editor of the Phoenix Gazette, gave Frank his chance, and being a storyteller with a nose for news, Frank became a success. He eventually got around to telling the story of his turbulent life in the early days of the West in Wranglin’ The Past. Only 300 copies were printed.

It should be noted that in October 1956 and again in August 1993, the Los Angeles Times ran an account of the Bella Union gunfight. The earlier of the two stories was based on what Eugene Carlisle Broderick, grandson of gunfight participant Robert Carlisle, told the Times. Broderick was unable to shed any light on the reasons for the bitter feud between his grandfather and the Kings. His account suggests that it was Frank King, not Houston King, who put the four bullets in Robert Carlisle, and that the dazed Carlisle (not a mysterious friend of Carlisle’s) fired the bullet that killed Frank King. But Broderick did not totally discount Houston King’s version. ‘Who can really say if King’s story is true?’ Broderick told the Times. ‘After all, it happened nearly a hundred years ago.’

And, of course, Broderick said that more than 40 years ago.

This article was written by George Gardiner and originally appeared in the June 1998 issue of Wild West.

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