DORA HAND: Dead or Alive!

The Alternate Story of the Mysterious Dora Hand. ********************************************************** ************************************************************************************************

The greatest enigma I can write of- and you can read about, in the annals of the wild and woolly West- is the curious life and death of Fannie Keenan. And I should use the plural, and say lives and deaths, of the most intriguing case of true-life “multiplicity” I have encountered. Legend has it that Fannie, aka Dora Hand, was a “variety actress,” a term used loosely to describe any woman who danced, sang - or both, in saloons in the mid- 1870's... and in this intriguing mystery, one who made a fateful decision to go West... and her first- and last stop was Dodge City. *************************************** ************************************************************************************************* She was 26... No 34. And from Boston... or St Louis... some place in the east, perhaps Memphis. She was primarily a singer, her gifts fitting best within places of worship... or a ballet dancer as some newspapers suggested. She was qhite famous... but there were no reviews of her talents in the West, and little evidence today that she performed to secular audiences anywhere but Dodge City. She was married, but she was getting divorced, but she was thought by some to be engaged to the mayor of Dodge... She was accidently murdered by a jealous assassin, but he was acquitted for lack of any evidence. She was greatly loved and respected by all... but there was no monument put on her grave... BUT WAIT, maybe there is, but we have no idea where that is either... Perhaps a marker does stand over her bones, silently in the shadows of some overgrown Victorian cemetery... with a name we would not recognize, and dates which defy our presumptions... ************************************************************************************************** Not surprisingly, other writers have struggled with the story of Dora Hand, always (predictably) pulling great tragedy out of the circumstances of her death, but I have trouble doing that... because I see something else. And I believe everybody has missed the truth about Dora Hand... and I will try to tell you why. But in order to do that- I may have to make some stuff up... ************************************************************************************************** Part of the misunderstanding surrounding Dora was created by the participants in her “last days on earth.” Part of it has been expanded by writers who have loved mourning her death, and loved hating her killer, who by all accounts was broadly recounted as a treacherous villain. Story-tellers of all stripes have milked Dora for all she was worth... and all of them have ignored the signs of a great deception, perhaps several of them, which have bound Dora like a mummy in a glass coffin, preserved for perpetual mourning, a sleeping beauty who will never wake up. ************************************** But I think the whole drama may have been a big snow job... and my research suggests that Fannie did, after all, wake up, so to speak.

Records available today in census and other government records, coupled with infinite newspaper coverage throughout the world, make almost any semi-public life in the Victorian era traceable. But there is so much information tangled up in the world-wide web that it is easy to find a half-dozen persons with the same name... even in the same region, during the same time period, who overlap enough to make identification between them very tough. This keeps writers from ever really researching them. But playing "history detective" we can sometimes find the threads which weave a certain person and their story into just enough of a fabric to discover some amazing possibilities. *********************************************************************** ********************************************************************************************** Unfortunately, that is all they are... since nobody can set the record straight after so many years. And that is what this article is about- the possibilities... This is the alternate story, based on heretofore unavailable records and resources, of the western phantom damsel, we know as “Dora Hand.” **************************************************************** ********************************************************************************************** All we know for sure, or think we know, is what the newspapers of the day told us... and especially the Dodge City press; that Dora Hand showed up in Dodge City, supposedly after making a name for herself in St. Louis and Cincinnati. She had supposedly been recruited to come and sing at a couple of venues there, and the legend is that she was known personally by at least one person before she arrived: Another singer/actress named Fannie Garretson. When Garretson had supposedly known her, she was then known by her stage name, Fannie Keenan. Fannie Keenan was considered a very attractive woman, with a wonderful voice and a magnetic stage presence. She supposedly came from the east, some thought Boston, and was quite refined, but there was a mystery surrounding her from the day she arrived. ************************************************************************ *********************************************************************************************** In order to fathom her life, I dug into every scrap I could unearth in genealogy and newspaper websites. The first Fannie Keenan to appear in the news during this era was a “Fanny” Keenan (with a y) from Canada who became a nun of the Order of St. Dominic in 1869, and thus was renamed “Sister Mary.” In 1873, another Fannie (or Annie?) Keenan was shot and killed at the Transit House in Chicago by a fellow named James Brady. So two contemporary Fannies were making news and yet out of commission before our story even begins... As we will see, it was dangerous to be Fannie Keenan! *********************************************** *********************************************************************************************** As the ringmaster of this circus, I have to point out the obvious, so that it will not be missed, that much investigation into any persons named Fannie Keenan in Victorian era newspapers did not produce stories about bake sales, or Women's Suffrage, or much that was pleasant or domestic, but a litany of either singing performances or repeated violence and tragedy. If these were different persons, they uncannily had similar talents and proclivities. And rarely did newspaper dates overlap- and then when they should have. ************************************************************************************************** ************************************************************************************************

Research in Newspapers.com also found two main places where a highly praised young singer named Fannie Keenan had performed repeatedly, and with rave reviews. Fannie Keenan had performed for adoring audiences in Memphis, Tennessee in 1872. Fannie Keenan also had a devoted following in Rutland, Vermont, from 1874 to 1877, where she was known as “the Queen of Song.” Interestingly, this same title appears behind the name of one of Dora's fellow performers in Dodge. And then Fannie Keenan, Vermont's "Queen of Song," apparently graduated from a girl's school in June of 1878, near the head of her class. During this same period it is conceivable that there were two singers east of the Mississippi performing and recorded under the same name, but it would not be preposterous to suggest that they were one and the same, and that one of them, (or both of them) might have been our Fannie of Dodge City fame. ******************************************************************************** ************************************************************************************************ It should be noted that as the news of the Dodge Fannie emerged, the others subsided. ****************************** ************************************************************************************************* It may be a another coincidence, but about the same time Fannie supposedly began performing in the Mississippi and Ohio Valleys (of which there is very scant record), a steamboat was christened the Fannie Keenan, and set afloat in the Illinois River in 1875. The name of this boat sparked my curiosity. Had the name come first, and then some frontier singer took the name as a stage name? Or had one of the eastern singing Fannies inspired the naming of the vessel? Or perhaps both were true. But if the boat inspired the alias of a budding professional singer, then her real name was yet another name which we do not know. And we will probably never know, and that was probably the case.

When Fannie was murdered in Dodge, the news of her horrible death spread across America, as bad news about entertainers always does. The Dodge City Times sent out a well-preserved and oft-repeated story, about the famous actress murdered in her sleep, probably by a gunman on a horse... and the story was picked up everywhere... as well as the pathos; “She was a prepossessing woman, and her artful and winning ways brought many admirers within her smiles and blandishments. If we mistake not, Dora Hand had an eventful history. She had applied for a divorce from Theodore Hand. After a varied life, the unexpected death messenger cuts her down in the full bloom of gayety (sic) and womanhood...” ***************************************************************** *********************************************************************************************

The story was run with great interest, coast to coast, and yet in the two towns where she was supposedly the most famous... very little was said. The Cincinnati Daily Star gave her murder one sentence. One Kansas newspaper headline even dismissed her death as just another murder of a “Cyprian.” You know, a person from Cypress where many women sell their sex. *** ********************************************************************************************** ********************************************************************************************** These treatments from non-Dodge news sources continued to undermine if not contradict Dodge-originated spin on the event. This was my first clue, and if I "mistake not," something was missing, even wrong with the accepted accounts of this exceptional woman and her demise. I have often found that the most objective news about any town was printed someplace outside of the grip of local political powers... ********************************************************************************************** And what did the adoring Dodge editors know about Dora's “eventful history” and her “varied life”? They did not say exactly, but they certainly alluded that there was much more to know... All good I'm sure. They obviously knew more than their disinterested peers in the cities where she allegedly came from. Strangely, even though Dora Hand was said to be famous in St. Louis and Cincinnati, probably as Fannie Keenan, they knew and said little, and cared even less. The truth about Dora ignored from that day forward was that she was only "famous" in Dodge City... and that after her death- and only because she was murdered. Dora Hand became the poster girl for the anti-gun violence faction in Kansas. ********************************************* ********************************************************************************************* The St. Louis Globe-Democrat offered a bit more of its own editorial response... but chose to run the full Dodge account which came over the wire. It added one and an important clue, that Fannie had played at the “Tivoli” (the "Tivoli" in St. Louis). **********************************************************************************************

The Tivoli, one of the few names we have of any professional venue which allegedly featured a performance by our Fannie Keenan, outside of Dodge, and west of the Mississippi, was a strictly German-speaking establishment, and even ran all of its advertisements in German. It would have been a sort of farm team for immigrant talent... in those days known as "Hurdy Gurdy girls." German-born Hurdy Gurdy girls were to dance halls what Puerto Rican-born youth are to professional baseball. But the Tivoli never ran any advertisements about Fannie during her performances there, and in fact there was not a single advertisement or review about the “famous” Fannie Keenan in St. Louis or Cincinnati. ***************************************** ********************************************************************************************** “Famous” artists of that time certainly had a traceable path through news sources; physical evidence of multiple performances, where they were headlined, and the subsequent glowing reviews which were usually published the next day... But Fannie had none. I believe that the mention of the Tivoli suggests that the real Fanny Keenan had some kind of connection to German-Americans. The above article about her death, all in German, was run in a Baltimore paper. Perhaps Fannie was a Hurdy Gurdy girl done good, and "famous" among German Americans in Maryland? Or perhaps she was so famous, that all the venues where she played just depended on word of mouth...??? Or was her alleged fame a total fabrication... and the first of many? ************************ ********************************************************************************************** One thing we know, if Fannie Keenan went West to be an entertainer, she probably had to shed that fashionable plaid dress and bustle we always see in the only known photograph of her. Below is my offering of what she might have looked like on stage, as a saloon entertainer in the mid-70's.

Even though Dora Hand is one of the most famous entertainers among the legends of the Old West, her celebrated entertainment career was sketchy at best. It was the Dodge newspapers who first suggested that Fanny Keenan was a famous, successful artist from St. Louis. And that "fact" was committed to print after she was dead. I believe that when the news first broke, the Dodge editors got carried away in their creativity, increasing the irony of her tragic death by exaggerating her status, and thus increasing the loss to mankind... and of course their newsstand sales. But their interest in the story soon inexplicably fizzled. ********************************************************************************************* The Topeka State Journal carried the story of the dead songstress, but with a certain cold objectivity... “Her proper name is supposed to be “Dora Hand” and she is well known in St. Louis. She was a brunette, very fine looking, and about 26 to 27 years of age...” Where they got these details is a good question. Keenan was supposed to be 8 years older... Where did they get that figure? The Topeka paper did say she was famous, because the Dodge paper had said so... but her good looks and youth had not been expressed so authoritatively before. Was the legend of Dora Hand already growing wings? Or was there better knowledge in Topeka about the new star than in Dodge City? Or was there just total confusion? *************************************** **********************************************************************************************

Bizarrely, Dora Hand's divorce proceedings went on after she had been murdered, just as if nothing had happened... A Leavenworth newspaper included a legal announcement of the divorce on the judge's docket in January of 1879, three months after her murder. Was the Leavenworth paper just guilty of lazy reporting, or was there truly a divorce proceeding involving a woman known to be dead? This made me think. What if this suggested a very different outcome for Fanny Keenan? *********************** ********************************************************************************************** Dead or alive, Dora Hand wanted her divorce! ********************************************************************** ********************************************************************************************** And so we should not be surprised if Fannie continued to sing as well ... in Vermont as late as 1881. ********** ********************************************************************************************** And the violence against Fannie continued too. In January of 1890, The Davenport Democrat reported: “Miss Fannie Keenan of Jacksonville, Ill, who was shot by her negro coachman, Porter, last week, will recover. The scandal connecting Miss Keenan's name with the negro is characterized as an outrage by her acquaintances.” ******************************************* ********************************************************************************************** In case you have not kept track, that is at least three Fannie Keenans shot, two dead, between 1873 and 1890. It seems that Fannies in the east were much safer, and for Fannies in the Mississippi Valley or in the West, it was OPEN SEASON! ********************************************************************************************** Undeterred by all of the violence hurled against her, Fannie is recorded as entertaining an appreciative audience at an ice cream social in New York in 1895. But finally, Fannie's flirtations with death were climaxed in 1897 with her supposed suicide in Fall River, Massachusetts, when she was found dead under her two-story window. The last word was they were searching for her son... to let him know. The death was ruled at first as a suicide... But I wonder... ************************************** ********************************************************************************************** From what can be reconstructed, Fannie never stayed anywhere for very long... and apparently not long enough for there to be more than a sliver of a trail of newspaper coverage of her supposed performances, where she earned that famous, yet unsubstantiated fame. But given all the killing, and these incidents are just what we know about, one cannot blame her for staying on the move. Fannie Keenan was never a headliner, and that was best, since she seems to have been hunted, but she may have been paid to sing here and there... and been asked to sing at local churches. Certainly her frequency of performances all over the country reduced considerably after her death in Dodge. But there were enough reports to imply that a Fannie Keenan was still alive and singing... and she was reported to be performing again in Vermont in the 1880's.******************************* *********************************************************************************** After a fairly short and lackluster career, Fannie Keenan had supposedly married a man named Theodore Hand, and according to the legend, Fannie stopped performing when she got married and tried to be a good wife. She humbly began the life of "Dora Hand." Perhaps that happened... although there seems to be no record of it. Research on her supposed choice of a husband suggests that she had poor judgment. There were at least two Theodore Hands... one a ner-do-well son from Minnasota whose own father had to sue him over a land loan default... and one a controversial bank embezzler in New York... So no wonder that the marriage did not work out, if it ever really happened. After leaving her husband, whom she claimed was having an affair, for some reason she decided to keep his name and be introduced in Dodge as “Dora Hand"... and start her own affair. If her marriage was just some kind of ruse, it may suggest that Fannie was using the brand and band of marriage for a certain kind of social buffer. There may have been good reasons, and one was simple propriety for Miss Keenan, but the wearing of the Hand name, in the face of renewing her entertainment career, seems... misguided.**************************************************************** **************************************************************************************** Perhaps she simply did not want to create the problem of two Fannies performing in Dodge at the same time. But it did not bother Dora, who was still supposedly legally married, to entertain two male relationaships at the same time... and she supposedly fraternized with the mayor of Dodge, and even sleep in his cottage... and was associated with him so much that many assumed the unlikely- that they were engaged. Desperate times called for desperate measures... Or was this too a ruse, to keep those Texas cowboy mitts off? Meanwhile the advertising in Dodge just called her by her old stage name... so her identity, perhaps intentionally, was as clear as mud. ********************************************************************************************************** ****************************************************************************************** According to the traditional narrative, Dora had only recently decided to start performing again, when she was brought to Dodge in July of 1878. The folks in Dodge were led to believe that she was famous... And she had the looks and the voice to pull off that first deception, and perhaps enough acting ability to pull off some more. Everything went well, so well in fact that Fannie, now “Dora” took the town by storm. She was performing for packed crowds at several venues, including the Comique Variety Show at the Lady Gay Hall, and at the Alhambra Saloon, where the town's mayor had an interest. Many of the eligible bachelors in Dodge began to wax their mustaches... including the mayor, who was really too old to even hope for such an angel as the lovely Dora Hand. But as they say, there is no fool like an old fool. ************************************************ ******************************************************************************************* Then again, the mayor may have been a gallant admirer... with purely paternal motives... Either way, plenty of young fools fell in line with Mayor "Dog Kelley", but that was not such a miracle in a hide town on the edge of civilization, with few women and scores of Texas cowboys looking for an object of affection. *********************************************** ******************************************************************************************* Things rocked along, and Dora just continued to sing her heart out, skipping from one venue to the next, saloons, opera houses, and even local churches. She was seen more than once loaning money to a bum, or bringing food or candy to little street urchins. (This sure sounds more like Sister Mary) It seems everything she did just made the men love her all the more. But there was the rub... as the few Dodge City women in town had to endure the town's men so unabashedly starstruck. And one of them may well have been Fannie Garretson. A new bride herself, her husband was quite the lady's man, and the manager of the Comique... which at the time was struggling to survive with all of the competition all over town, which prolific Dora was providing. The Comique had no exclusive agreement with Dora, and it was too late to negotiate. Her fans in the wide-open town would never forgive them if they tightened the screws on her. ************************************************************ *******************************************************************************************

A handsome young Texas cattleman named James "Spike" Kenedy, restoring himself after a trail drive, declared that he was going to marry her. The old fool and the young cowman had already had words about who was most fit to court the lovely Dora, and when he pressed to meet her, the mayor ended the argument by throwing the over-confident cowpoke out of his saloon. And in front of a large crowd. This set a couple of tragic travesties into motion, which surrounded Dora's demise. Maybe... ****** ********************************************************************************************

Fannie Garretson was a veteran entertainer who had married Dick Brown in Deadwood, the year before, where they were performing together. He was a dashing banjo player, and she a veritable nightingale. Both had started their entertainment careers in San Francisco, and then migrated from boom-town to boom-town. Dick was now manager of the Lady Gay Hall, where the Comique variety show performed, and his own talents a star attraction. They pridefully brought the best entertainment in the West to Dodge. This was the Brown's second attempt at a frontier opera house which also offered gambling and “other” popular entertainment. The first had been in Deadwood, but had ended in disaster, when Garretson's live-in boy friend from Cheyenne followed them to Deadwood and, claiming they were still married, accosted them one night during a performance. Banjo Dick shot him dead from the stage. And you can read all about that and him in the following blogs... but it is Brown's deadly temper and his wife's duplicity which I want to extrapolate into an alternative explanation of what actually happened to Dora Hand. ************************** ********************************************************************************************* It is my contention that “Banjo Dick” Brown was running from town to town, avoiding Wells Fargo detectives, U. S. Marshals, and perhaps Pinkerton agents, who wanted to question him about his knowledge, and possible role in a series of robberies in the Black Hills, which happened while he and Fannie were there. Since there were possible connections between Brown and some of the Collins-Bass gang, and they all fled the hills around the same time, the Brown's movements seemed suspicious... and especially since they ended up in New Orleans at about the same time as one of the key members of the gang, after the big heist. Even if Brown had no direct complicity, he might easily lead them to Jack Davis, the only gang member left alive. After Davis disappeared, Brown was their last hope to find him- or the remaining stolen Wells Fargo gold. And if I am right, Dick Brown may have considered that gold his. *********************************************************************************************************** ************************************************************************************************** We know that after the dust settled, Dick Brown wrote friends in Reno that he was living large in Galveston, and he was leaving for New Orleans and then across the pond to South Africa. But later he and Fannie were performing in Arkansas, before they showed up in Dodge. I believe that Fannie had grown uneasy about Dick Brown after her nightmare in Deadwood, (either he tried to cut her throat, or she tried to commit suicide) but (I think) she knew more than enough to get him arrested and put away; I propose that they separated and she went to St Louis to sing, and while there she contacted authorities about what and whom she knew about the Black Hills crimes. And after this a plan was struck; part of it was that she meet up again with Brown in Dodge with every intention of betraying him. The Pinkertons would take care of the rest. This is what "I see" behind the many inconsistencies and coincidences. ***************************************** ****************************************************************************************** ****************************************************************************************** Here is where I start making things up... filling in players or possible motives to explain what might have actually happened. Call it a scenario. So bear with me, and consider this alternate explanation: A detective agency was called into play, perhaps for Wells Fargo, but maybe Pinkertons, with the idea that an agent would be planted among the entertainers in Dodge to snoop out solid clues. The Pinkertons were known to sometimes use women in their trade, and they located a talented, unknown singer to assume the role of a “famous singer from back east,” someone who could disarm the crustiest pioneer, and she came to Dodge in July of 1878. ( It should be noted that this would dovetail nicely with the Fannie Keenan who just graduated earlier that month from a music school in Vermont) The detectives gave her a false identity, but a name that sounded familiar... Writers have assumed, and implied that Dora Hand and Fannie came together to Dodge, that they were old acquaintances, and that they were good friends. But this was only the beginning of the intended deception. ********************************************* ******************************************************************************************** It is possible that "Fannie" was a Pinkerton agent, even going back to her roles as nun and student... and that she was sent after "graduating" from her schoolgirl assignment in June- right into a much more dangerous situation in Dodge. The detective agency might well have pulled a name out of thin air, one of a steamboat (which had since been sunk!) and then added a tragic marriage to cleverly gain credibility and sympathy, and more importantly a married name to keep men at bay. Her story was just complicated enough to explain her presence in Dodge, which was not exactly an ideal place for such a sweet and attractive young thing... Lastly they lined her up to sing right on stage with Dick Brown and others at the Comique Varieties, featured at the Lady Gay Hall. No doubt, there were experienced, male detectives in plain clothes, planted around for "Dora's" protection. The idea was to lure Dick Brown into confidence. He was a rake who could not resist a beautiful woman, and with the right woman, he might take the bait and give away important information about his travels, his associates, or his past and hopefully even his future. To assuage any concerns of propriety, “Dora” had a lawyer file for her divorce right there in Ford County, to make sure that everyone knew that she was not available, but going to be. And the trap was in place. What could go wrong? ** **************************************************************************************************** It was quite possible, in fact probable that some local authorities were vaguely informed of the sting, to prevent local lawmen from interfering... but there was also the possibility that some of them were somehow involved with Dick Brown as well. There was an uncanny trail led by Dick Brown through the West, and like crows following a leaky wagon of corn, quickly followed by Wyatt Earp and his brothers, and others. Wyatt Earp and his brother Morgan had been in Deadwood about the same time period that the Browns were performing there. Now Brown and the Earps were in Dodge. The Earps had a long rap sheet, always tied up in pimping and gambling, and Wyatt had been accused of graft and even arrested for horse stealing when he was younger, and once even broke out of jail. Deputy Bill Tilghman had been accused of stagecoach robbery. The Pinkertons knew all of these things and did not trust them. Dodge was a treacherous place, and partly because one could not discern the good guys from the bad guys. ***************************************************************************************************** This construction of mine explains some of the mysterious dynamics of this famous unsloved murder. But it depends on another assumption, the superior cunning of "Banjo Dick" Brown. Dick Brown was no fool. He was a real life "Moriarity," probably one of the great criminal masterminds of his century. So much so that he was never caught after any of his schemes, and that is why you have never heard of him. The next three blogs describe in some detail his exploits, which read like the Indiana Jones of western mischief, if not crime. He was brilliant, and, raised in the hazardous streams of the California Gold Rush, he had made a quasi-scientific study of human nature. He had pioneered the use and manipulation of public Media, and being a captian of con-men, he did not trust anyone; Any attractive person who like himself, appeared good and honest- and who might cause the unsuspecting to drop their defenses. That was his game. They say you can't kid a kidder... ***************************************************************************** ************************************************************************************************** So as Dodge fell in love with Dora Hand, Brown began to squint and see beyond, and to try to figure out just who she could be. And none of the possibilities were appealing. Numerous performances alongside her revealed that she was classically trained, in other words from a "better" family, and her voice was worthy of real opera. And she was polite to a fault, and unbearably moral. She was too pretty. Too smart, and too talented to be scavenging in a hide town like Dodge. And if she and his wife were such great friends, how come he had never heard about such a stellar woman? He began to ask little questions, and got unsatisfactory replies. Dora was the kind of woman who had nothing to hide, but she kept her cards close to her chest. Brown knew a poker face when he saw one, and his greatest gift was walking right through social barriers, and establishing easy rapport with the highest people in society. But beautiful Dora was a wall. ********************************************************************************************************** *************************************************************************************************** Finally, Dick decided to go find out about Dora another way- on his own, away from the two Fannies who seemed to be up to something... He took a stage east... and found what I have found. In August, Brown stormed the venues in eastern Kansas, and “the wide-a wade proprietor” was seen and reported in Kansas City supposedly “procuring material” for his show. But he was really gathering evidence, and qualifying his canny suspicions. Nobody had heard of “Dora Hand.” There was very little knowledge in the business about “Fannie Keenan.” Wasn't that a steamboat? Dick Brown began to suspect that he was being set up... On the way home, the fox began to form his own trap, and the would-be detectives would be caught instead. The two women knew too much, for if they were actually friends, and were setting him up, then Garretson had probably spilled everything to Dora, and perhaps others. They had to be silenced. ********************************************************************************************** *************************************************************************************************

What few people knew at the time, was that Banjo Dick was a dangerous man. He had been in at least three shooting incidents, two of them deadly, and in one he killed his wife's former lover in front of a crowd of witnesses. He had created or helped create two, maybe three gold rushes around the West, where he sold worthless lots or claims to unwitting wanna-be miners. And he may well have helped to mastermind one of the most successful and outrageous train robberies in history... where over a 350 mile stretch, two bands of robbers stopped and robbed the same train twice in one day! Brown was quite savvy to using the Media to dissiminate disinformation, and so doing confuse law enforcement. He had eluded vengeance or justice before from false reports of his death- from falsely reported Indian attacks, and from shootinsg and even a hanging... His life was a bigger bundle of deceptions than Dora Hand's. ************************* *************************************************************************************************

Brown returned to Dodge, sold out or gave away what he could of his operation, and abandoned his second popular entertainment venue in two years. Right when it was taking off, after just four months in business, and his efforts were earning great reviews from the local papers. It made no sense, but the Comique was no more. The Lady Gay would take up under new management. He would have to act fast, before anyone suspected that he was on to the ladies's confidence scheme. And he did, because the newspaper reported he had flown from Dodge by the first week in September. But this was just to fake an exit. Once again he was using the news to shape perceptions. Thanks to the ever-watchful news professionals, Brown was believed by almost everyone to have “gone to Texas.” ********************************************************************************************************* **************************************************************************************************

Dick Brown's "leaving" was on the same week that one of the biggest thugs in the West came into town- Clay Allison. Allison was a notorious gunfighter, and looking for trouble. Many say it was because Dodge had gone bad, and Texas cowboys were badly treated by the authorities. We have to wonder if Dick brown had not antagonized him some. But whatever his inspiration, Clay Allison was a self-appointed avenger for his fellow Texans. It did not take much to provoke this notorious killer, who always distrusted and bucked authority. He was the kind to call out anybody he did not like and publicly challenge them- or even threaten or kill them. It could be a coincidence, but there could have been no better distraction to attract the attention of the whole town, and especially local lawmen, while something deeper was taking root. Meanwhile local stores reported a rash of break ins. Trouble was in the air and in the back alleys. The Texas cattle drivers were preparing to return home, and there was mischief all over as they bought (or stole!) clothes, hats, boots, guns, and took their last shot of whiskey, and paid their last visits to their Cyprian sweethearts. Allison seemed to be there to make sure they went unaccosted.******************************** **************************************************************************************************** The devil is not only in the details. He supplies them. ********************************************************* **************************************************************************************************** Dodge town-watchers were to be disappointed, because local lawmen stayed out of Allison's way. And local issues were of no concern for the detectives, so Clay Allison had a big time and left satisfied. And Dick Brown stayed out of sight and prepared for a long, hard trip... after some necessary "rat-killing." ************************************************* ************************************************************************************************** If Dick Brown was going to Texas, it was without Fannie Garretson, which was a sudden and major development. Had they not just held court during weeks of successful shows, featuring some of the country's most promising talents? Had he not just been east to “procure materials”? For what? With no hint of what might have happened between them, he was gone, and Garretson was on the street with no venue to earn a living. “Dora” got her a singing gig at Mayor Kelley's place, the Alhambra, and later on a free, clean bed for a few nights in the mayor's cottage, while he was out of town. But it seemed that more than the Brown's marriage was falling apart. Their elaborate detective scheme had just lost its prey. ************************************ ************************************************************************************************** James Kenedy, the smitten young cattleman, left town to go buy horses, a perfectly legal and normal thing for a wealthy trail driver to do. And if Dick Brown was really going south, Kenedy and his cowboys were his best bet to get there safely. It would have made perfect sense to get out of town immediately, before detectives realized that he was savvy to them, and to befriend James Kenedy and even go with him and find a decent mount which could make the trip. *************************** *************************************************************************************************** This in itself would have been a real accomplishment, since it was probably Brown's faro table which had provoked the ire- and gunfire of many of the cowboys... evidenced by several "shoot'em ups" in the short history of the Comique. Dick Brown had to have turned on his greatest charm to convince them to give him a chance to ride along and provide his music on the trail... and maybe an opportunity to win their money back. But all Brown had to do was win over Kenedy, the son of their boss, and the rest would probably follow. The cowboys would actually have loved to get that guy out of town and off somewhere where they could teach him some manners. ************************************************************************************************** *********************************************************************************************** So I propose that Brown proposed that they would go east together and purchase some good horses and pick up the rest of the men on the way back through when they departed for the Texas Panhandle. It was possible that word got back to the detectives that Dick Brown was with Kenedy, graduating the cattleman from public pest to a person of interest. Little could Kenedy know, that by taking up with Brown, he was making himself an enemy of several forces in Dodge, which would unite to almost destroy him. ************************************************************************************************ I believe that Mayor Kelley knew about the detectives, and their scheme, and his legendary protection of Dora, even the providing of sleeping quarters away from the noisy hotel... was more than a foolish old man's infatuation. But all hell broke loose when Kelley sought medical treatment at Fort Dodge, and right before Spike Kenedy, (and I think Dick Brown) passed through Dodge for the last time. And coincidentally Fannie Garretson had moved into the mayor's hut upon Dora's invitation. ******* ************************************************************************************************ For Dick Brown, the wise fox, everything was set up in his favor. He had a good horse to get him out of reach of the investigators. He would return to Dodge one last time, surreptitiously, and with his connections, locate Dora. He would assassinate her, and Garretson too, and if possible, any Pinkertons who might be guarding them. And with him thought to be “out of town,” Dora Hand the Pinkerton spy would probably be alone and vulnerable. There was no telling where Garretson might be. But he and the devil danced a jig when Dick found out they were sleeping in the very same place. He learned that Dora was staying in Mayor Kelley's cottage, and probably told James Kenedy to wait for him at the saloon while he ran some errands. So Kenedy drank and waited... and drank some more. This actually proved to be a valuable alibi. ************************************ ************************************************************************************************* By Four O'clock that morning, all the pieces were in place for a successful, surgical operation, the kind Dick Brown had orchestrated before, but none with such dire consequences. It was a gamble, but that was his stock and trade, so Brown planned to knock on the door and ask for Garretson, and plead to be let in because of some issue... and then quickly do the deed. He rode up, and rapped on the solid wood door. We can easily imagine the conversation at that point... Garretson was the one sleeping closest to the door, and probably yelled from her bed... ****************************************************** *************************************************************************************************** “Who is it?” ************************************************************************************************** *************************************************************************************************** “Fannie, its Dick, let me in!” ******************************************************************************** *************************************************************************************************** “Dick? What are you doing here? We thought you were long gone with those cowboys!” **************************** *************************************************************************************************** “Fannie, let me in, I have to talk to you. NOW.” **************************************************************** *************************************************************************************************** “OK... Dick... but let me put something on...” Fannie reached for her gun. She was well aware that Brown may have figured out her betrayal, and understood that an angry Dick Brown may have come to kill her... and maybe Dora too. She stood trying to think... meanwhile Dora was rustling in the next room. “What on earth do you want?” Acting especially irritated, she screamed, “Do you have any idea... it's four in the morning!” ***************************************************** *************************************************************************************************** Brown lunged at the door, but the hinges held fast. ************************************************************ *************************************************************************************************** “Go away Dick! You are drunk! Get some sleep! I am still upset with you... you... just left me- you son of bitch! Let's talk about it tomorrow.” Fannie hoped that Brown would give up, but he just got meaner... *************************** *************************************************************************************************** “Open up! Or I will turn this shack to splinters with my Winchester! You might as well open up and face me, you double-crosser. You owe me that much... Especially since I killed Shaughnessy for you!” ****************************************** *************************************************************************************************** This argument worked temporarily. But Fannie cocked her .41 derringer and then reached for the door. She was afraid to open it... and afraid not to... But just as she did, a loose board in the floor squeaked and Brown panicked, and he began to fire his gun at the door, over and over... one, two, three, four, five times. Fannie, an old hand in barroom shoot outs, hit the floor instinctively... The bullets went over her... into the walls, into her bed, and even through the walls... for a few seconds she was sure that she was going to be dead. She laid there for a few moments, until she heard Brown's horse clop away. **************************************************************************************************** “DORA!” Fannie sat up, and felt herself all over, as if from a bad dream, “Dora! Are you alright?” **************** **************************************************************************************************** “I think so... what on earth!” Dora felt something warm and slimy on her side... ***************************** **************************************************************************************************** Dick Brown did not go back to pick up James Kenedy. A drunk cowboy would only slow him down. Scratch the friendly trip south, and playing banjo for the Texas cowboys, and singing and gambling around the chuck wagon... and most importantly, safely passing through Comanche country. He now planned to fly through the Texan camp outside of town, use Spike's friendship, grab some food, and find a badger hole somewhere to hide for a few days. ************************************************************ **************************************************************************************************** Now the “jig was up.” The detectives would know, Ira "Dick" Brown was guilty of something, something pretty big, if he tried to kill the woman in his closest confidence. And he would be running for the rest of his life. ***************************** **************************************************************************************************** Dora tentatively stood up in the stinking smoke-fog which was rolling into her bedroom, and found a candle and lit it. “Oh my God!” she gasped. “I've been hit!” Fannie shook off her shock and came to her and made her sit down. **************** ***************************************************************************************************** “Yeessssss,” Fannie reassured, as she put her hand on the wound. “but it's only a flesh wound... that bullet lost its sting coming through the wall.” She plucked the lead ball out of her side, and held it up in the air so Dora could see it in the moonlit room... “It's your lucky day.” The hole began to drip and then to flow... and Fannie ran into the front room, dragging Dora, and stripped the hand towel off of the rung on the wash stand, and pressed it up into Dora's ribs, right under her arm. It filled with blood. “You put your arm down, and DO NOT REMOVE IT. Hold that rag into your ribs until I can get a doctor. Do you understand?” ********************************************************************************************************* ****************************************************************************************************** “I feel kind of dizzy...” ****************************************************************************************** ****************************************************************************************************** “Go back and sit on your bed... Hold the rag Dora, your life might depend on it!” Dora nodded and Fannie ran blindly into the early morning black, half-dressed, barefooted... and suddenly confronted a Pinkerton man, who had been napping across the street. After she quickly explained the situation, he stopped her, grabbed her arm, and not so gently. ********************** ****************************************************************************************************** “Go back in, and tend to her... I will get the doc.” The detective ran like a greyhound down the street and Fannie stumbled back into the cabin. Dora had lost a lot of blood and had passed out. The rag was on the floor. It was saturated with blood and floor dirt was stuck to it, but she put it back in Dora's armpit anyway. Maybe it would help the blood to clot. She rested her face in the palm of her free hand. It seemed that right at that moment, her hand was her only friend in the world. Then she thought about the last thing that hand had held... her derringer!... Where had she left it? Then she remembered, she had accidentally let it go and thrown it when she dropped to the floor. Best she go find it. ************************************************** ******************************************************************************************************** Fannie got on her hands and knees in the dark of the morning and tried to see the gleam of her pistol anywhere on the floor... When she found it, her heart leaped as she smelled fresh spent gunpowder. It had fired when it hit the wall. The bullet in Dora could well have been hers. Who would believe her, that DICK BROWN had been there and shot up the place? And she dared not tell that to just anybody. She thought at high speed, but one thing at a time... she must get rid of that gun immediately, before the lawmen came... she stepped out into the stillness of a Kansas backstreet murder scene, looked both ways, and got on one knee, and slung the derringer under the house. ******************************************************************************** *************************************************************************************************** There... now everything was alright. Horses were stirring one block over on the main street... they were coming... she sprung up like a teen-aged dancer and pranced back into the cottage... where Dora now looked very dead. Fannie was strong, and there was only one alternative, to make the whole event as harmless and uncomplicated as possible. She put poor Dora, limp as a plucked chicken, back in her bed, and lovingly covered her up, There was no reason for her to suffer indignity, even in death. She fought back tears. It had been a long time since Fannie Garretson had cried. ******************************************* **************************************************************************************************** Two big Pinkerton men busted in the doorway... “Where is she?” They could not see a thing, as the candle Dora had lit had gone out. ************************************************************************************************************ **************************************************************************************************** “In here” Fannie said listlessly. She stood and walked into the front room, as one of the men came in and bent down to try to see Fannie in the dark. “Where was she hit? Never mind... I see the rag....” *************************************** **************************************************************************************************** “Good god!” ****************************************************************************************************** **************************************************************************************************** “Somebody find a light!” He said. About that time the town barber rode up, grumbling. He stepped into the tiny house and immediately stuck his hands in the pretty bowl and pitcher centered under the window, on top of the wash stand. His hands came out dripping wet, and as clean as they were ever going to be, then he wiped them on his yellowed shirt. He opened up his Barlow knife and stepped into the little bedroom. “So THIS is where Dog Kelley stays!” He had no idea who laid injured inside. ***************************************************************************************************** The Pinkerton man sitting on Dora's bed looked up with grave sadness. “She is barely breathing.” ****************** ***************************************************************************************************** “That's Dora! Good Lord!" Cried the barber. "Well... we can't wait for the doc... she will die if I don't remove that bullet. Maybe we can still save her...” *********************************************************************************** ****************************************************************************************************** The barber dug around, and Fannie leaned in too late to stop him, and she tried to watch, but his technique was crude, more like he was cleaning a fish, and she had to turn her head. She thought about the slug she had just put in her nightshirt pocket. But she dared not tell him, in case it matched her own gun... Dora was unconscious... it was best to leave it alone. Finally the barber gave up. *************************************************************************************************** ******************************************************************************************************* “It's not in there.. or it went all the way through... I don't know... but the bleeding has stopped. We need to find doc. I think she is still alive.” ************************************************************************************************ ******************************************************************************************************* And Dora was alive. Weak and unconscious, but alive. With proper care she could recover. The Pinkertons began to do what Pinkertons did... every scheme was naturally blended into the next. The older of the two took charge, a large man with a huge head, a broad mustache covering the center of his deadpan face. ****************************************************** ***************************************************************************************************** “Here is what we are going to do... Fannie, your role in this is critical. And it may save your life... I assume that Brown was here tonight?” Fannie nodded as she stared at the floor, looking for a hole to open up so she could crawl in. “So listen carefully, we may not be able to discuss this again...” But Fannie was not accustomed to being bossed by strangers. ** ****************************************************************************************************** “I don't see..” ****************************************************************************************************** ****************************************************************************************************** “Listen to me woman!” He demanded, “You have no idea... this town is run by devils... we can trust no one.” He waited for Fannie to acknowledge her cooperation. “The locals will be here soon, some of them we can trust, others not, but they run together. We are going to tell them that she is dead. Or I should say, you are going to tell them. We will be watching from across the street. They will come and gawk... they won't know whether she is alive or dead. But right now it does not matter. We will explain to the mayor and the D. A. later. As soon as the doc has done whatever he can, which is not much... we will put her on the next train back to headquarters... and some decent medical care. And God help us, we might get her there in time.” *************** ******************************************************************************************************* Fannie stared into space... “But Whyyyy...” *************************************************************************** ******************************************************************************************************** “I know that it seems cruel and too risky, but Miss “Dora” has risked her life to catch this man, and giving away her identity would erase whatever progress she has purchased, at a great price. If she stays, it will all have to come out. It's best that Dodge never even knows that we were here. And if she stays, your boy will get to read all about it... and know what we were doing, and what suspicions of his were true, and, I might add, your role in this.” ********************************* ****************************************************************************************************** “I see. Save you... save myself.” Fannie was just beginning to understand the risks that she and Dora had taken. She thought about that hot razor that Dick had dragged across her neck in Deadwood. She stared at Dora's blood on the floor... and it reminded her of her own. The big detective continued... ************************************************************ ******************************************************************************************************** “And you must leave as soon as you can... whenever the court is through with you... for questioning of course. I suggest you go somewhere far away, and forget you ever knew Dick Brown.. change your name... because I think he will try again.” *** ******************************************************************************************************** “I understand... thank you. I'm so, so sorry we failed..” ********************************************************** ******************************************************************************************************** “No, you did not fail... Brown is one in a million. He has eyes in the back of his evil head. He may be the slickest criminal we have encountered, and we have chased quite a few. But we must go... If you need us, do not speak to us directly, go through the mayor... he knows everything. He will convey any messages.” ************************************************* ********************************************************************************************** The two Pinkertons escorted the bloody barber outside, and then hurried him across the street to their lair. It was obvious they were concerned about what he had seen, and heard, and what he might say. He had some promising to do as well. Fannie sat disbelievingly, she had certainly made a mess of her life. Again. She went in to look at Dora, dead, unconscious, she could not tell, but if she was alive... she whispered into her ear... “Dora my darlin', if you can hear me... if you didn't hear those men... they want you to play dead. You finally got a starring role! I guess right now acting dead won't be too hard.” ** ******************************************************************************************** Fannie took a breath, and stepped outside to take in some fresh clean air. But it all came down like a warm blanket and she began to sob... Then horses coming upon her helped her choke it back... Within minutes, Officers Earp and Tilghman rode up and she began the Second Act: Dora was dead. She was killed in her sleep. They stormed into the house like prize fighters... and then sauntered back out after a few minutes. Dora had shown them no signs of life. Officer Earp walked back to Fannie, who was bloody and slumped over, and looked upon her as if he was greatly irritated. **************************************** ******************************************************************************************* “Mrs. Brown... I'm sorry to bother you... but who... what bastard could have done this?" Earp knew all of the players in town. He did not know anyone who would kill a woman. "Pardon my language...” ********************************************* ******************************************************************************************* Fannie thought fast, and she seemed to find an answer easily. Lying came naturally to an accomplished actress. But the best lie has to have a shell of truth. “It was some of those damned cowboys... Always shooting their guns...” Fannie realized that anything she said would be repeated and taken seriously... but she had to protect Dora... and get these men out of here... even on to a false lead if necessary. ******************************************************************************* ******************************************************************************************** Blaming the Texans was all she could compose on such short order... But Fannie thought she sounded quite convincing. It did not hurt that her face was shining with fresh tears. So many years on stage had her simultaneously analyzing her performance, as she played the victim. She looked up at Deputy Earp with her signature moon face, one she had used for many years to disarm audiences. ***************************************************************************************************** *********************************************************************************************** “You know, those Texas cowboys, I think... Spike Kenedy and his bunch... but I did not see them.” Only a few persons would have connected what she and a few detectives knew, that Dick Brown had been riding with Kenedy. If they tracked down James Kenedy... they might find Dick Brown and hopefully, finally suspect him. But she would not have fingered him directly... splitting hairs at the present moment seemed like clever, life-saving semantics. But Fannie had no way to know how serious the two men would take her accusations. ************************************************************************************ ********************************************************************************************** Earp looked at Tilghman, and with the fierce eye of an eagle sighting his prey, nodded to him. They mounted up to go after the perpetrators. They had just seen them hanging around an all-night saloon. “We'll get 'em Mrs. Brown, have no doubt about that!” Inspired by Fannie's vague guesses, which were actually just blatant lies, they two rode off into the dawn glow, with blood in their eye. Fannie got up to meet the doc, who was finally riding up in his little, black, one-horse buggy. ****** ********************************************************************************************** “Is she...?” He said under his breath, as if he did not want to wake someone. ******************************** *********************************************************************************************** “Come on in, she was breathing a few minutes ago... but you could not tell.” As soon as he began to check her pulse, the big detective rushed back in. ************************************************************************************* ************************************************************************************************** “Doc, we need to visit while you work...” ************************************************************************ *************************************************************************************************** “Get out of here, damn it, I haven't got time...” But the detective was unphased. ******************************** *************************************************************************************************** He got out his Pinkerton Badge and showed it to the Doc... who barely glanced his direction. “You'll have to find the time sir... Listen, this patient is a Pinkerton agent too, and it is imperative that we take her to Chicago, where she can get treatment, and get her away from here." The doctor seemed lost in thought, and did not respond. The detective waited, trying to assess the doctor's attitude. "People are trying to kill her, for what she knows about criminal activity here... and elsewhere. I need two things from you... to sterilize her wounds...” About that time the doctor pulled a long, bloody rag from under the covers, and slopped it on the floor. “...As best you can...” *************************************************************** *************************************************************************************************** “And...?” The doctor inquired, having painfully processed every word. ******************************************* *************************************************************************************************** “And I need you to cheat a little with the facts. Let's say that right now she looks dead to you... Declare Dora Hand dead. ************************************************************************************************ “Are you serious?” **************************************************************************************************** **************************************************************************************************** “Sir, I've never been more serious. I understand what I am asking for... but it is the only way to save her .. and our investigation... which is very important. And it would not be as bad as it sounds, Doc... Declare Dora Hand dead... but it's not such a lie, because there is no Dora Hand. "Dora" was just an alias for this agent. We... and she have been tracking this man for thousands of miles... for over a year... It is much bigger than Dodge... but it can all fail or succeed with your cooperation.” ***************************************************************************************************** “I'm not sure how much time she has... I'm not sure that lying would help her or anything...” ********************* **************************************************************************************************** “Mister, I am not asking, I will not let your obstinacy sabotage everything we have accomplished... if you do not agree... I will...” *********************************************************************************************************** **************************************************************************************************** “All right man, have it your way. But I don't like it.” Doctors are pragmatic after all. He was focused on saving Dora, not forming tomorrow's headlines. ************************************************************************************** **************************************************************************************************** “And I don't give a damn...” Blurted the Pinkerton. He spotted a group of men marching briskly towards the mayor's humble cottage. “This is probably your coroner and his jury... let 'em look, but keep 'em at bay... and let them believe that Dora is dead. Lie if you have to. Do you understand?” ********************************************************************* **************************************************************************************************** “Yes...” ********************************************************************************************************* **************************************************************************************************** “Good... some day we will make a toast to this affair... But I have to go get a coffin built... we have to make this look good.” ****************************************************************************************************** The Pinkerton man tucked his badge back into his vest and walked out, not even acknowledging the county officials approaching the crime scene. Fannie took a deep breath, before beginning Act III. In ten hours, Dora Hand would be in a pine box on its way to Chicago. Dead or alive. After that it would not matter what happened to the story of the mysterious, wonderful, resilient Dora Hand. After all, she did not even exist. ********************************************************************* *********************************************************************************************** Fannie put on her best front, taking charge as some women can do, warning the coroner and his jury of the awfulness of the scene; the death, the blood... Dora was in her night clothes... "Please, show Dora some respect, don't invade her privacy in death... she was SUCH A LADY..." The men stood stupidly with their hats off, as the doctor continued to clean her wound... then they all went to the Judge's office to fill out and sign the official inquest. The Pinkertons ordered a large coffin, which could hold Dora and some of her personal belongings...They helped the undertaker gently remove her body to his lab, understanding that she was only temporarily dead. The undertaker took the coffin and its contents to the train station... and that's when someone at the depot heard the Pinkerton man say that the body was being transported to Chicago. This led to the newspaper story which was leaked in St. Louis which reported that Dora's body was being sent to her parents in Chicago. It was half right, just like most of the news printed about this story. Of course, this was denied then and denied now. Dora belonged to Dodge! ************************************************************************************************

A posse formed and the next morning Sheriff Bat Masterson led four other capable lawmen after the possible culprit whom Fannie Garretson had fingered to have pulled the trigger...

They have made a movie about the whole affair, which included Wyatt Earp, Bill Tilghman, and Charlie Bassett, all of whom would qualify in any future "Who's Who" of the West. The manhunters took a short-cut and dismounted and waited for Spike Kenedy, who had left town quickly after he heard his name mentioned as a suspect. After several previous run-ins with the Dodge Law he figured, and figured correctly, that his chances for justice were slim. Hidden in the prairie grass, the posse waited for Kenedy like duck hunters in a blind. When he trotted by, they hailed him to stop. And when he spurred his horse instead, (and this was not such a bad idea, since they could have been highwaymen) Masterson shot him out of his saddle. Simultaneously, Earp murdered Kenedy's handsome new horse. Later a story was told that the young cattleman gave away his guilt by asking if the mayor was dead. And supposedly even scolding Masterson for not being a better marksman, once he heard that Dora had been killed. Unfortunately, the focus on Kenedy precluded anyone ever getting near the truth about any of the event. ***************************************************************************************************************** ************************************************************************************************* The mayor was soon back in town, and was convincingly grief-stricken as he escorted a box of rocks and buried it in the city's new cemetery, to complete the mission, and protect the women. Over the years that original city cemetery was relocated, and if Dora Hand ever had a resting place, with a gravestone, it was misplaced. That would be another clue. A figment of the Pinkertons, Dora Hand had no identifiable birth place, or family, or hometown, or past or career, or even a grave site!******* ************************************************************************************************* Naturally a legend soon blossomed about the long, elaborate funeral procession consisting of all walks of life, which solemnly followed poor Dora to her grave on "Boot Hill," the famous final resting place for many a Kansas criminal. It did not matter that old timers in Dodge admitted that there was a better city cemetery in use by then and only nameless, unclaimed vagabonds were buried there- and even those graves were later relocated for city expansion. Even the graves at the city cemetery were relocated later on, and no marker for the beloved, famous actress survived the move. It may have never existed. ************** ************************************************************************************************

And soon the most famous people who knew the beautiful legendary actress in Dodge, Wyatt Earp and comedian Eddie Foy, when writing their memoirs, either confused her with others or forgot her completely. If we depend on their accounts, her fame was not just fleeting, it was stillborn. It is possible, since Earp had a shady past, that he was reluctant to remember someone who reminded the world of his unconventional and prejudicial law enforcement techniques. It was he and Bat Masterson who had crippled an innocent man and killed his horse, over a murder case which they never solved. ********************************** *************************************************************************************************

Bat Masterson had a better memory, and there were a couple of newspaper interviews with him which proudly proclaimed his efficiency in that case, where he tracked and KILLED Dora's killer. In fact, one paper claimed Kenedy was the last man Bat Masterson had to kill in the line of duty. Two articles gave details about Sheriff Masterson hiring a farmer to bring Kenedy's corpse back to Dodge, since it required a wagon. All the lies and self-serving versions of the Dora Hand legend only point to one reality... The truth was never told, and certainly not by the most powerful lawmen in Dodge. But they had not forgotten the truth of what happened- they were ashamed of what happened. And they did their best, till their dying day, to obfuscate the whole story. *************************************************************************************************** Fannie Keenan, alias Dora Hand however, seems to have raised hell for two more decades, and who knows how many more near-death experiences. From the newspaper accounts, somebody named Fannie Keenan turned getting killed into an art form. We can only hope it was for the cause of Justice... or at least to protect the lady from reprisals from the most dangerous criminals in the country. I fancy that she was a Pinkerton agent, given a false identity and sent into the Kansas hidetown to uncover a gambling or robbery ring, or both. We can never know. The problem is, spies never tell.*********************************** ************************************************************************************************* And Dick Brown headed to the wild country which always gave him refuge, while it repelled everyone else... a little valley in Nevada called Eureka. But then where would he go? Where can a famous man go to hide? Everybody was going to Leadville, Colorado in those days... best he stay clear of that place. So it was Lucky for Fannie Garretson, that was exactly where she went. As did Bat Masterson and Billy Nuttall, and many of the same characters who pioneered Deadwood and Dodge. ************** *************************************************************************************************** Brown needed a remote, out-of-the-way pocket... one where even the getting there was unpleasant. A place which had nothing going for it, except being on the way to someplace else. Maybe a place near the Mexican border, in case he learned that the authorities had finally put a price on his handsome head. Yes, he would hide for a few weeks in Eureka, and then strike out for dry, blistering, god-forsaken Tucson. Then he would fish for a music gig- on another continent. *********************** **************************************************************************************************** Dick Brown had been advertising his removal to Australia and South Africa for two years... long enough for detectives to have gone there looking for him and to have given up... so it was a perfect time to actually go, and he was soon gone on that journey the next year... as the Earps, crows following the trail of corn kernels, prostitutes in tow, rolled in to Arizona for their last hurrah. *********************************************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************************************** If this scenario intrigues you, there is a lot more... and more possible suspects in the unsolved murder of Dora Hand. Just keep reading below! **************************************************************************************************** ****************************************************************************************************** WARNING: The rest is (mostly) just plain fact-based history... salted with some observations and of course, my opinions! But this scenario helps to understand the underlying current which carried “Banjo Dick” Brown around the world, twice!