This is from Dee Harkey's book, Mean as Hell. He was the younger brother of Jim Harkey. Joe named here is the oldest of the children. Sarah Harkey Hall is his sister, she wrote the Texas Frontier book. Father was Daniel Riley Harkey. The day of the killing, they both got back to the camp early and lay around the camp. Barbee told Jim that day the reason he was out there was because he had had a difficulty with his father and had tried to stab him with a butcher knife. Jim had been chiding Barbee about attempting to stab his father, and that seemed to be why Barbee shot him. Jim started to fix something to eat, and he was singing "Yankee Doodle". Barbee told him that anyone who would sing a song like that was a damned fool." Jim thought Barbee was joking, so he said, "You're a liar, that's a damned good song." So Barbee went outside, revolved his pistol, and came back to the door and ran his left arm between the cracks of the log house and around the door facing. He told Jim that he was going to kill him, and he shot at the same time. Jim had his pistol buckled around him. The bullet Barbee fired hit Jim over the right hip and came out over the left hip. They shot four times each. Jim shot Barbee four times through the heart, but Barbee hit Jim only the one time. Barbee dropped his pistol and fell, and Jim laid his pistol across Barbee's and walked outside. He met the freighter for the Hall Ranch who had just got there. Jim gave the facts of the shooting to him. The freighter told Jim that he saw Barbee come out of the house as he was driving up! and revolve his pistol and walk back to the door. Jim saddled his horse and sent the freighter over to Hall'' headquarters for Dick Hudson, who was the Hall brother's boss. When Hudson came, Jim told him all about the shooting and then told him what he wanted done with his money and belongings. Then Jim laid down and died in a few minutes. Hudson and the freighter rolled Barbee and Jim up in a pair of blankets and a wagon sheet, and laid them side by side in a grave about eighteen inches deep which they dug with an axe. About five months later, Joe rigged up a team and spring wagon and sent me to bring Jim's body back home to bury in the family graveyard at Richland Springs. He gave me a .44 Winchester and two boxes of cartridges to take with me. I got a boy named Hall to go with me, and Joe armed him also. Joe had a coffin made and put it in a box made air tight, then he put chains around the box and fastened it down to the wagon so it would not move. Joe gave me a batch of grub - flour, coffee, etc. - and a cooking outfit, and we pulled out. It was about 350 miles to where Jim's body was buried. It took us 21 days to reach our destination. When I got to Buffalo Gap, I got a letter from Jim Barbee's father saying he had been up there and got his son's body, or he thought it was his sons body, and had carried it home and buried it in their family graveyard, and if I found that he had Jim Harkey's body that I should take his boy's body and give it a nice burial. ******Excluded here details of the trip until they got to Jim's grave****** Jim had a ring on his finger that had his initials on it and I knew I could identify him by that. We dug him up and turned the sheet and the blanket back so we could see him. Except that his hair had grown about six inches, he was perfectly normal until the air hit him; then the flesh fell from his body and nothing was left but the skeleton. I took him up and put him in the coffin and fastened it down. Then I put the coffin in the box and we fastened it to the wagon bed and started back for home. Before we got to Buffalo Gap, the gas from the corpse was so strong that it pushed the box until the chains were buried deep in it. I went over to the blacksmith and he cut up some wagon tires and made bands and then he drew this box back down until the odor was practically eliminated. We were probably twenty-one days coming back, but everything was ready for Jim's burial when we got home. I have been asked, would I send a twelve-year old boy, like I was then, on such a trip today, even now when there are no Indians. At the time I never thought about being only twelve, I guess in those days there was more than the grown men could tend to, and we youngsters helped without thinking much about it.