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If you subscribe to the narrative championed by Robert Redford, Dan Buck, and other luminaries of the outlaw film industry, the final chapter of Butch Cassidy's life is woven from the threads of romanticized myth. Legend has it that in the remote village of San Vicente, Bolivia, an overwhelming force of Bolivian soldiers cornered Butch Cassidy alongside his infamous comrade, the Sundance Kid. Intent on bringing the notorious outlaws to justice for their litany of crimes, the soldiers encircled the town, zeroed in on the duo hiding out in a local inn, and unleashed a relentless hail of gunfire. Trapped and beleaguered under the weight of ceaseless bullets, the bandits fought back valiantly. According to lore, when their ammunition dwindled and escape routes vanished, a desperate Sundance purportedly implored Butch to deliver a merciful finale with a shot to the head.

As the tale unfolds, after the echo of the last gunshot faded and tranquility reclaimed the scene, they say Butch Cassidy was discovered, his final resting pose aligned with the doorway, surrounded by a testament of spent shells and marred by five bullets. Nearby, the Sundance Kid was found, his form slumped against a corner on the floor, the wall behind him scarred with bullet holes. One of these bullets, extracted from Sundance's skull, was allegedly matched to Butch Cassidy’s six-shooter. Thus, if legend holds true, ended the storied saga of daring robberies, thrilling chases, and narrow escapes - Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid met their demise on the cold, hard ground of a nondescript hotel in the vast emptiness of Bolivia.

The narrative of Butch Cassidy has been explored and recounted to such an extent that revisiting it might seem redundant. Yet, the ambiguity of its truth remains. What's undeniable, however, is Cassidy's reign as a formidable outlaw across Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, and the broader Western territories during the late 19th century. His infamy was earned through a series of bank heists, train robberies, and stagecoach holdups, not to mention his incarcerations, most notably for the egregious act of horse theft. A word of advice for those wandering the bygone trails of the Wild West: taking a man's life, seizing his livestock, or plundering his possessions at gunpoint might be one thing, but never, under any circumstances, should you steal his horse!

Let's delve into the persona of Butch Cassidy, the man beneath the myth: Robert Leroy Parker. Historical records lend credence to this identity. Born to Maximillian Parker and Ann Gillies on April 6th, 1866, in Beaver, Utah, Robert's lineage was a blend of English and Scottish, his parents being recent Mormon converts who ventured west following Brigham Young's call. Married in '65, Maximillian and Ann welcomed Robert a year later, naming him after his paternal grandfather. Over the following 35 years, the Parker homestead grew, welcoming 12 more children, yet their roots remained steadfastly planted near Beaver. The family's journey took them from Beaver to the quaint township of Circleville through the latter decades of the 19th century, and eventually 15 miles further south to the modest hamlet of Orton. Present-day Orton marks a crossroads, the juncture of Hwy 89 and Hwy 20, a silent sentinel to the echoes of the Parker family's past.

According to historical accounts, Robert Parker left the comforts of home at a tender age, finding guidance and employment under the mysterious figure known as Mike Cassidy. It wasn't long before young Parker ventured north to Lander, Wyoming, adopting the name George Cassidy in homage to his early mentor. In the rugged terrains of Wyoming, he embraced the cowpuncher's life, toiling on prominent ranches like Embar and McDonald. His companions included characters like Al Hainer and perhaps William T. Wilcox, each with their own tales that weave into the larger tapestry of the Wild West narrative. But beyond these tales of youthful adventures and namesakes lies the heart of our intrigue: the legendary exploits that cemented Butch Cassidy's name in the annals of American folklore.

In 1889, Robert Parker is listed as one of the men recognized with Tom McCarty and Matt Warner in the Telluride Bank Robbery.  It’s not so far-fetched.  The McCarty clan lived close to Circleville too—during the 70s—and Bill McCarty even married Lettie Maxwell in Circleville in 1875.  Somehow, Robert Parker got acquainted with his outlaw neighbors and started robbing banks!  He never saw jail time for Telluride though, the gang made the slip and left the posse wondering which name was whose and which direction was north. 

 Upon his return to Wyoming, the man known as George Cassidy, alongside Al Hainer, found themselves ensnared by the law for horse theft in July of 1894. While Hainer faced lenient consequences, Cassidy wasn't as fortunate, earning a sentence in the Laramie prison for nearly two years. It was within these confines that Cassidy's tale takes a captivating turn. Throughout his imprisonment, he steadfastly clung to his alias, never reverting to Robert Parker. His conduct behind bars earned him the attention and eventual pardon by Wyoming's Republican Governor William A. Richards, credited to his "good behavior."

But perhaps the most intriguing development during Cassidy's time in jail was his association with William T. Wilcox, a fellow inmate from Michigan with talents that extended to mural painting and the crafting of intricate sailing ship replicas. Whether their friendship began within the prison walls of Laramie or had roots in their past lives in Lander remains a matter of speculation. However, this relationship would prove consequential, as Wilcox later penned a manuscript of a hundred pages about George Cassidy, weaving together strands of truth and fiction in a narrative that further mystified the legend of Cassidy. This manuscript remains a tantalizing piece of the Cassidy puzzle, promising to shed light on the figure through the lens of someone who might have known him well.

By January 1896, the world bid farewell to George Cassidy and welcomed the emergence of Butch Cassidy, marking a pivotal moment in the annals of Wild West lore. In an almost cinematic turn of events, it was in September of the same year that the name Butch Cassidy was first uttered, casting a shadow over the quiet town of Loa, Utah. Joe Decker, a merchant traversing the fringes of civilization, found himself face to face with a man who proclaimed, “Hello, I’m Butch Cassidy, the famous outlaw," while lodging at a local hotel.

 The encounter, shared between Decker, Cassidy, and possibly one of Cassidy's cohorts—Elsy Lay or Bob Meeks—would not remain a mere anecdote shared among travelers. Decker, perhaps awed or unnerved by the encounter, relayed his experience to the county sheriff in Richfield. What followed was the 19th-century version of going viral; the story of Butch Cassidy, embellished or bare, spread like wildfire, capturing the imaginations of people from New York to Los Angeles through newspaper columns. This notoriety was not without merit, as Cassidy had allegedly added to his legend with a bank robbery in Montpelier, Idaho.

The narrative that swept across the nation detailed Butch Cassidy, alongside Elzy Lay and Bob Meeks, embarking on a daring heist. The motive, as the story goes, was nothing short of a cinematic plot—to gather the necessary funds to liberate Matt Warner, referred to as Butch’s "best friend," from the confines of a jail in Ogden. This episode was but the beginning of a series of bold endeavors. In a subsequent act of audacity, Butch and Lay targeted the payroll of the Pleasant Valley Coal Company in Castle Gate, a mere 60 miles north of Loa.  Butch was identified a few months later at a dance in Rabbit Valley, the heart of Wayne Couty.

These accounts paint a picture of a man who blurred the lines between a notorious outlaw and a charismatic figure weaving through the social fabric of the region. The pattern emerging from these tales suggests a blend of audacious criminal activity and a penchant for maintaining a conspicuously public profile, an intriguing contradiction that only adds to the mystique of Butch Cassidy's legend.

In an intriguing twist of fate, a figure known as Cassidy made an attempt to surrender to Utah's Governor Heber Manning Wells in June of 1900. The story goes that the negotiations fell through, leading to Butch Cassidy's decision to continue his life on the run. This period saw Cassidy, alongside the infamous Sundance Kid, Harry Longabaugh, embarking on a spree of daring escapades that included train robberies in Wilcox and Tipton, Wyoming, and a notable bank heist in Winnemucca, Nevada.

As the relentless pursuit by the Pinkerton Detective Agency intensified, Cassidy, the Sundance Kid, and the beautiful Etta Place, sought refuge beyond the reach of American law enforcement. Their solution was as dramatic as their crimes; they fled to New York, assumed false identities, and boarded a steamship bound for the unknown prospects of South America. This audacious move signaled the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. What followed has become the stuff of legend, a narrative punctuated with more questions than answers. The tale of Butch Cassidy does not conclude with a definitive period but rather with an open-ended question, leaving us to ponder: is this truly the end of the story, or is there more yet to be discovered?

Do you sense that something isn't quite right, dear reader? The narrative, for all its romance and daring, seems to skim the surface, leaving shadows and doubts lingering in the depths. Could the interplay of names and deeds be more illusion than fact, a tapestry of half-truths and conjecture? We invite you to delve deeper with us. The tale of Butch Cassidy transcends the bounds of what has been widely accepted. The legend that Cassidy met his end in South America, falling victim to his own gun or succumbing to a barrage of bullets from Bolivian soldiers, might not hold the full truth. Butch Cassidy's saga, it seems, is far from over. In fact, it might just be unfolding anew. Join us as we peel back the layers of a story more complex and astonishing than ever imagined.