George Reese, Samuel Bailie and Hans Roth are a few of the names in Frisco's weed-choked cemetery, the final resting place for many victims of the legendary violence that nearly killed this silver-mining town toward the end of the 19th century.

The bloodshed provided job security for the undertaker, who drove the main street in an open wagon evenings, carting away the bodies. Times changed when the marshal, William Pearson, from neighboring Pioche, Nev., showed up one day to set things right. First came a warning: Lawbreakers wouldn't be arrested; they would be shot.

Then came justice. On Pearson's first night on the job, six outlaws bit the dust. Only a few lopsided, splintery buildings, along with five charcoal kilns used in the silver- and lead-melting process, remain in Frisco today, and of course, there are all the tombstones in the cemetery that rise from the desert shrub near the Nevada-Utah border like bad teeth sprouting from the ground. Want to visit this haunting mystery..