By western author Nick Brumby

“Kitty had five husbands, seven revolvers, a dozen Bowie knives, and always went armed to the teeth.”

— A Deadwood newspaper reporting Kitty Leroy’s death

She was dancing professionally by the age of ten. By fourteen she was performing in dance halls and saloons and was a crack shot with a rifle. Kitty Leroy (1850 -1877) was a dancer, gambler, saloon owner, soiled dove, madam, and trick shooter of the American Old West.

According to reports at the time, Kitty was a stunning beauty with a sparkling personality who left men—from notorious outlaws to officers of the law—throwing themselves at her feet. She was also a skilled flirt and seductress, and didn’t hesitate to employ her feminine wiles to get her way.

Dancing wasn’t her only passion. She learned to handle knives and guns, becoming more proficient than most men. Her first husband, whom she married at 15, was the only man in their town willing to let her shoot an apple off his head.

She ventured west seeking her fortune, settling for a time in Dallas, Texas. She soon gave up dancing and took up dealing Faro. She became an accomplished gambler and continued mastering her skills with guns and knives.

She married for a second time at 20 and was one of the most popular dancing attractions in town. According to an unconfirmed legend, she became involved in an argument with her third husband, during which she challenged him to a gunfight. When he refused to fight her because she was a woman, she changed into men’s clothing and challenged him again. When she drew her gun, he did not, and she shot him. As he did not die right away, she called for a preacher and the two were married. He died within a few days.

Now a widow, Kitty made her way to Deadwood, Dakota Territory, in 1876, traveling in the same wagon train as Calamity Jane and Wild Bill Hickok. There, she worked as a soiled dove in the brothel managed by Mollie Johnson.

She opened the Mint Gambling Saloon and married for a fourth time to a Prussian prospector. Legend has it that her spectacular diamonds at ears, neck, wrists, and fingers glittered so brightly they blinded her customers to her sleights of hand, and her gambling saloon prospered.

However, when her husband’s money ran out, they began to argue often. She hit him over the head with a bottle one night and threw him out, ending the relationship.

Kitty married her fifth husband, gambler Samuel Curley. However, Curley soon learned that she hadn’t divorced her first husband. The bigamy realization, combined with rumors about Kitty’s continued promiscuity, proved too much and he left.

On the night of December 6, 1877, Curley returned and shot and killed Kitty in the Lone Star Saloon, then turned the gun on himself and committed suicide.

The following day, the Black Hills Daily Times reported the gruesome scene: Kitty lay on her back, her eyes closed. Except for the bullet hole in her chest, the 27-year-old looked as though she were asleep. Curley lay face down, his skull destroyed by a bullet from the Smith & Wesson still gripped in his right hand.

“Suspended upon the wall, a pretty picture of Kitty, taken when the bloom and vigor of youth gazed down upon the tenements of clay, as if to enable the visitor to contrast a happy past with a most wretched present,” the newspaper report stated. “The pool of blood rested upon the floor; blood stains were upon the door and walls…”

The pair were laid in state in front of the saloon the next day, then buried together.

Somewhere during her one-of-a-kind Kitty had a daughter. At the time of her death, Deadwood newspapers reported that her estate was left to her daughter, Kitty Donally.

What a life…

About Nick Brumby

I like a good story. And of all stories, I love westerns the most.

As a kid, I spent far too many afternoons re-watching Clint Eastwood spaghetti westerns, picking up ‘Shane’ for just one more read, or saddling up beside Ben Cartwright when ‘Bonanza’ was on TV each afternoon.

I’m a former journalist and I love horses, dogs, and the occasional bourbon whiskey. I live with my wife, daughter and our ever-slumbering hound in a 1800’s-era gold mining town – our house is right on top of the last working gold mine in the area. There may not be much gold left, but there’s history wherever you look.

I hope you enjoy my westerns as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Happy trails,

Nick