Saddling Molly, and then grabbing the Winchester and several canteens of water, Roy set off in the direction of the disturbance. He stopped just below a ridge and dismounted his horse. Creeping up to the edge, Roy inspected the landscape. Nothing was moving and bodies were strewn everywhere. After waiting for a long time, Roy grabbed his horse and entered the scene. It was a ghastly mess. Vultures were already circling above anticipating a feast on the exposed carcasses. Twenty-five men were shot dead and scattered. Roy tried piecing together the circumstances leading up to this horrific, but deadly battle. A pattern developed and Roy could see that there were two separate groups fighting each other, but why, Roy thought.
Rifles, six-shooters, and various spent casings dotted the desert floor. Roy searched for signs of life but found none. He was about to leave when he spotted something out of the ordinary. Resting beneath one of the fallen horses was a small wooden trunk. It was padlocked. Instinctively, Roy swept the desert in a three hundred and sixty-degree circle. Satisfied no one was nearby, Roy moved closer to the trunk.
It was a Wells-Fargo strongbox about twenty inches long, by twelve inches high. When Roy touched the lock, it fell open. Roy could see a bullet hole where the key would normally go. Roy paused and again searched the desert making sure he was alone. When Roy lifted the lid and looked inside, he could not believe his eyes.
Inside the box were stacks of currency with paper bands. Roy examined the packs of bills stacked together with a strip of paper across the middle. This was more money than Roy had ever seen. Looking at the writing on the bands, Roy determined the strongbox contained ninety-seven thousand dollars. Roy looked at one group of dead men. None of these men look like Wells Fargo riders and I didn't see any marshal badges either. This group must have robbed a train or stagecoach. Roy stood up and looked at the other group. They wanted the money or were the posse after the robbers. Roy rubbed his chin and looked around the whole area once more. This can't be good.
Since there were no survivors, Roy knew he needed to report this incident to the sheriff. The strong box was too bulky, so Roy determined to hide it until lawmen could clean up this mess. Against the nearby hill, Roy spotted a large crevice between the rocks. Hefting the Wells Fargo box, Roy carried it to the crack in the rocks, storing the box so it could not be seen. Roy grabbed a handful of scrubs and while walking backward swept his boot prints away until he was back with the group of dead men. Roy surveyed the area one more time to place his bearings at this precise location.