""California Badmen"" is a exploration of little-known Western frontier gunfighters. Billy Mulligan, Sam Temple, Peter Olsen, Joe Dye, Bob McFarlane and those responsible for the Rancheria killings are brought back through the pages and taking their stand in Californian history. The riotous lives of these unique collection of mean men with guns spill over the California frontier and rival the likes of ""Wild Bill"" Hickok, Billy the Kid, and the Earp Family.

One of the great lawmen of the Old West, Bob Paul (1830–1901) cast a giant shadow across the frontiers of California and Arizona Territory for nearly fifty years. Today he is remembered mainly for his friendship with Wyatt Earp and his involvement in the stirring events surrounding the famous 1881 gunfight near the OK Corral in Tombstone, Arizona. This long-overdue biography fills crucial gaps in Paul’s story and recounts a life of almost constant adventure. As told by veteran western historian John Boessenecker, this story is more than just a western shoot-’em-up, and it reveals Paul to be far more than a blood-and-thunder gunfighter. Beginning with Paul’s boyhood adventures as a whaler in the South Pacific, the author traces his journey to Gold Rush California, where he served respectively as constable, deputy sheriff, and sheriff in Calaveras County, and as Wells Fargo shotgun messenger and detective. Then, in the turbulent 1880s, Paul became sheriff of Pima County, Arizona, and a railroad detective for the Southern Pacific. In 1890 President Benjamin Harrison appointed him U.S. marshal of Arizona Territory. Transcending local history, Paul’s story provides an inside look into the rough-and-tumble world of frontier politics, electoral corruption, Mexican-U.S. relations, border security, vigilantism, and western justice. Moreover, issues that were important in Paul’s career—illegal immigration, smuggling on the Mexican border, youth gangs, racial discrimination, ethnic violence, and police-minority relations—are as relevant today as they were during his lifetime.

California was the mining center of the West for half a century. Wherever precious minerals were found, road agents appeared to "mine the roads" of treasure being shipped out and payrolls being shipped in. The first recorded robbery of a stagecoach occurred in 1856, and the last in 1913. Over that period there were 458 stagecoach robberies, many with special characteristics such as a claim the robbers were Confederate soldiers, a murder, a gun battle, or a thrilling pursuit and capture. Surprisingly, there were many robberies in which the perpetrator remained unknown or in which was so little stolen the robber was not even sought out. This book gives all the details of those robberies taken from the contemporary newspapers and from a variety of other sources.

In the 1800s, Tulare County, California, was a hotbed of desperate characters whose deadly gunplay and murderous inclinations left a trail of bodies across the region. Although the Central Valley now makes its name in agriculture, Tulare County was once a bastion of the Wild West with a lineup of hardened criminals that has scarcely been equaled in the annals of crime. Train bandits, coldblooded murderers and callous outlaws armed with shotguns and butcher knives plagued Visalia, Porterville and other sleepy central California towns. Join historian and retired Visalia Police captain Terry Ommen as he relates the transgressions of Tulare County's roughest characters, including thrilling tales of the pistol-packing Mason-Henry Gang, a deadly duel between politically divided journalists and vigilante justice exacted by angry mobs.

In January 1, 1885, Wells, Fargo & Company's chief detective James B. Hume and special agent John N. Thacker published a report summarizing the company's losses during the previous 14 years. It listed 313 stagecoach robberies, 23 burglaries, and four train robberies but included little or no details of the events themselves, focusing instead on physical descriptions of the robbers. Widely circulated, the report was intended to assist law enforcement in identifying and apprehending the criminals believed still to present a danger to the company. The present volume revisits each crime, updating Hume and Thacker's original report with rich new details culled from local newspapers, personal diary entries, and court records.

Tiburcio Vasquez is, next to Joaquin Murrieta, America's most infamous Hispanic bandit. After he was hanged as a murderer in 1875, the Chicago Tribune called him "the most noted desperado of modern times." Yet questions about him still linger. Why did he become a bandido? Why did so many Hispanics protect him and his band? Was he a common thief and heartless killer who got what he deserved, or was he a Mexican American Robin Hood who suffered at the hands of a racist government? In this engrossing biography, John Boessenecker provides definitive answers. Bandido pulls back the curtain on a life story shrouded in myth — a myth created by Vasquez himself and abetted by writers who saw a tale ripe for embellishment. Boessenecker traces his subject's life from his childhood in the seaside adobe village of Monterey, to his years as a young outlaw engaged in horse rustling and robbery. Two terms in San Quentin failed to tame Vasquez, and he instigated four bloody prison breaks that left twenty convicts dead. After his final release from prison, he led bandit raids throughout Central and Southern California. His dalliances with women were legion, and the last one led to his capture in the Hollywood Hills and his death on the gallows at the age of thirty-nine. From dusty court records, forgotten memoirs, and moldering newspaper archives, Boessenecker draws a story of violence, banditry, and retribution on the early California frontier that is as accurate as it is colorful. Enhanced by numerous photographs — many published here for the first time — Bandido also addresses important issues of racism and social justice that remain relevant to this day.