The Kid

RON HANSEN HAS a thing for outlaws. He has written about the Dalton and James gangs. One of the best stories in his collection "Nebraska" (1988) is "The Killers," an affecting portrait of a rotation of assassins. In his newest novel, "The Kid," Hansen returns to the ungovernable territories of the American West to resurrect, and perhaps redefine, one of the 19th century's most wanted men, the many-monikered youth known to most of us as Billy the Kid. William Henry McCarty was born in New York City in 1859, the son of a striving mother and an ill-fated father who died at Chickamauga. He was killed on July 14, 1881, in Fort Sumner, N.M., by his friend-turned-nemesis Pat Garrett. What happened during the years between has been the source of much speculation and cultural incantation. Was Billy ambushed? Was his murderous reputation deserved? Did he, in fact, die in Fort Sumner or somehow survive thanks to Garrett's residual affection? The films and biographies have had their say. Now comes Hansen, one of our most supple novelists, to tell the Kid's very good and tangled story in a spry and inventive way. Hansen has an abiding interest in the tension between a historical figure's publicized persona and the private, unadorned self. Who are these infamous souls? What allows them to sidle across the boundaries of taboo? Why are we forever drawn toward their burning flames? A skilled researcher, Hansen anchors his book in the dark waters of character. The Kid's story has been told many times. But not like this. Hansen's Kid is "ever smiling, witty, and genial when not riled by an injustice." He can be a "hot-tempered boy" but is memorable for his genteel manners. He fires guns with uncanny accuracy; that same physical deftness makes him a smoothly efficient horse thief and a prodigious dancer. Women are charmed by him. Sallie Chisum, niece of a friend, coyly quotes Shakespeare soon after she meets Billy: "What's to come is still unsure: / In delay there lies no plenty; / Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty." After Sallie there is a long line of girlfriends and queridas. They rarely fault Billy for his crimes. And they never betray him. In Hansen's reconsideration, the Kid is a mostly admirable wild child who seeks a stable family. Although sometimes overwhelmed by "heedlessness, overconfidence and pluck," he is stoutly loyal and never cruel. When his beloved employer is ambushed, he vows - and exacts - revenge . But the political roots of what came to be known as the Lincoln County War are knotty and putrid with corruption. "Those seeking commerce and prosperity for New Mexico" want freelancers eliminated. Billy is involved in many a violent act, but "exaggeration, outrage and garish lies" embroider his exploits until he becomes a literal and figurative target. Only in his last days does he kill an unsuspecting man - and that deed costs him plenty. Still, despite being an accomplished escape artist and an orphan from the age of 14, he chooses not to flee the place he now calls home. He hides in plain sight among his many friends, awaiting the circling vulture of Pat Garrett, hoping not "to die alone." So what does Hansen tell us about William Henry McCarty that we didn't already know? The real achievement of this novel is its pesky style. Like the Kid, Hansen revels in the lingo of tabloid and tale, of dime novel and detective story. He also highlights the haphazard nature of our fates. Some of the Kid's rowdy peers find early graves. Others go on to ironic respectability, burying their colorful pasts with their old hats and boots. The West has always been a vortex of transformation. Only the Kid remains forever young and misunderstood. 'Exaggeration, outrage and garish lies' embroider the feats of this novel's Billy the Kid. ALYSON HAGY'S latest novel, "Scribe," will be published next year.