Inside The Dalton Gang Part One

From Law To Outlaw

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Episode 456 begins a three-episode exploration of the infamous Dalton Gang, who terrorize the Plains states near the end of the nineteenth century. Part One, From Law To Outlaw, tells how Bob Dalton and his brother Gratton made the great fall from grace, from U.S. Marshals to bandits on the run from a posse. Culled from the book “Beyond The Law” by Emmett Dalton, the youngest member of the gang.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
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(00:21):
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Speaker 2 (00:39):
Episode four hundred and fifty six begins a three episode
exploration of the infamous Dalton Gang, who terrorized the Plane
States near the end of the nineteenth century. True to
the mission of True Crime Historian, this episode is drawn
verbatim from original source documents, in this case a book
written by an outlaw about his outlaw career. While we

(01:02):
strive for historical accuracy, first hand narratives such as Emmett
Dalton's Beyond the Law may contain personal bias, selective memory,
or factual discrepancies. We present these accounts as written and
encourage listeners to consider them within the broader context of
documented history. It has long been established that the Dalton

(01:24):
Gang were cold blooded killers, no matter how Emmett tries
to justify their actions. I'm true crime historian, and for
your horror and indignation, I give you Inside the Dalton Gang,
Part one, From Law to Outlaw, Chapter one. Our family,

(01:50):
the James Boys, the Youngers, the Daltons, with the exception
of myself, have gone to their reward or punishment. From
the moral viewpoint, there is no justification for the things
that were done. I shall attempt none except to say
that the environment of those days was different from the
present time, and it is hard for a person born
and raised in this day to understand the conditions as

(02:13):
they existed.

Speaker 1 (02:14):
Then.

Speaker 2 (02:15):
The apparent recklessness and disregard for life that seems to
stand out clearly in the exploits of the James Younger
or Dalton's were merely the tendency or necessity of that time,
used along lines opposed to law and order. There were
two forces fighting then as now, but the law then
was enforced with the same recklessness and ruthlessness that the

(02:38):
lawless enforced their demands. In those days. A man acted
and then thought out the reasons for that act. He
had to do so time for reflection. In my case,
reflection of years spent in a cell has shown me
that the course of reasoning used then was wrong. Just
a single word of explanation. Our fight was not with

(02:59):
the law law, but the law as it was enforced.
In those wild days, what we knew as law and
order was merely graft and corruption masquerading under the cloak
of the law. The land stealing railroads, the grasping express companies,
the mushroom banks were guilty of more misdeeds than all
the crowds of bandits who terrorized the West. This terror,

(03:22):
hardly ever, was directed against the individual, but against the corporation,
always in an attempt to write some real or fancied grievance.
The Dalton Gang was born of injustice, or what we
deemed injustice. Long before any of us raised our hand
against society as it then existed. The Daltons were known
as strict enforcers of the law. One of us, Frank,

(03:45):
gave his life to uphold the law. The three boys
who composed what is now known as the Gang, had
risked their lives time and again on the side of
the law. But when the constituted representatives of that very
law themselves proved lawless, and when the power of a grasping,
heartless corporation is seen dominating society, even to the extent

(04:06):
of sending innocent men to penitentiaries, it is no wonder,
in view of the accepted thought of that time, that
bandits were made. A recital of events showing the time
and causes that led Bob Dalton, Gratton Dalton and myself
emmet to go over the border line. The real story
of what we did and how we did it, and

(04:27):
the final day of reckoning, a day that cost the
lives of four of us and placed me in the
shadow of eternity, and the final years of penance may
be interesting to some. At least it will give for
the first time the real story of the Daltons, devoid
of sensationalism. If some one can grasp the sequence of

(04:50):
events with the course of reasoning we adopted, and also
will make an honest effort to get back into the
line of law and right, then my task has not
been in vain. The Dalton family has undoubtedly been stained
by the exploits and the reputation of the Dalton boys
much of which was unwarranted. Of the Dalton Boys, Robert,

(05:15):
known always as Bob, Gratton known best as Grat, and
myself are deserving the censure and us alone. James Lewis Dalton,
our father, a Mexican war veteran who had served under
General Taylor, was a Kentucky farmer and saddler. Hard working,

(05:36):
quiet and unassuming, he earned for himself the respect of
his neighbors, a respect which even the three boys were
unable to tear down. Our mother, Adeline Younger Dalton, was
born in Missouri. She is the sister of the father
of Coaljunger, whose deeds are written along with those of

(05:57):
the Dalton Boys and James Boys as as well known.
Our family, besides our parents, consisted of Ben now a
farmer in Oklahoma, Cole now living in New Mexico, Lewis
who is dead, Lyttleton, still a ranchman in California, Lelia

(06:19):
who is dead, Frank who was killed while serving as
a United States Marshal, Gretan who was killed in the Coffeeville,
Kansas raid, William, a stock raiser in California now dead
eva alive, Robert who was also killed in Coffeeville, myself

(06:44):
Leona also alive, Nammy dead, and finally the twins Simon
and Adeline, of whom Simon is still alive. Our parents
had given us all affairs education, two of the boys,
Ben and Cole, being McGee College graduates. In eighteen eighty,

(07:07):
our parents moved from Cass County, Missouri, to the Indian Territory,
where my father went into stock raising and farming. Some
of the romancers were not content with peddling their tails
about by tongue merely, but went so far as to
write weird, bloody catchpenny yellow back novels in which we

(07:28):
were pictured in the most lurid of colors. In one
in particular, that makes my blood boil, in my indignation rise,
and also forces my good resolutions to flee from me. Frank,
my brother, is held out as an outlaw, a killer,
and a bad man. Generally. Frank is dead, a martyr

(07:50):
to his duty and the custom and environment of a wild,
reckless day that took as its toll hundreds of good
and bad and by the same method a quick shot,
a quivering form, one final twitch, and then silence forever.
Chapter two. Frank Dalton sacrificed in eighteen eighty four, Frank

(08:16):
was appointed Deputy United States Marshal, with headquarters at Fort Smith, Arkansas.
Of all the brave men who wore the star of
Uncle Sam and took chance with their lives, waking or sleeping,
none won greater respect than did Frank Dalton. The horse
and cattle thieves heard his name with terror, as did

(08:36):
the bootleggers or whiskey peddlers who smuggled liquor into the
Indian territory. Frank was fearless, brave, honorable and honest. And
I feel now and always have felt, that had he
been spared, the blot upon the escutcheon of the Daltons,
providing we could rig up an escutcheon would never have occurred.

(08:57):
He was our real leader, and after him, Bob, and
it was as a direct result of his death that
the future dark events occurred. On November twenty seventh, eighteen
eighty seven, Frank and Jim Cole, another deputy, were sent
to round up three whisky peddlers who had been flaunting
their success in evading the law in the faces of

(09:18):
the officers for months. With Cole, Frank rode out to
where the three men, Smith Dixon and a youth named
William Towery had pitched their camp across the Arkansas River
from Fort Smith. When Frank and Cole approached Missus Smith
was in front of the tent cooking breakfast. No one
else was in sight. Frank went to the rear of

(09:40):
the tent, telling Cole to go to the front and
seize the woman. I shall have to fall back on
Cole's tail to Bob of what happened. I had nearly
reached the woman when she saw me, he said to
Bob afterwards. I had my winchester in my hands when
she jumped forward with a yell and grabbed it. Just
at that instant, Frank came up back of the tent.
At the same time, Smith jumped through the flap with

(10:02):
a six shooter in his hand and whirling around. He
and Frank fired at about the same instant. I saw
Frank stagger and start to fall, and then Smith fell
towards him dead. I was struggling with the woman, who
was fighting like a pack of mad cats. She still
had hold of the winchester and I couldn't get it
away from her. Then I saw Dixon come out from

(10:23):
the tent. He saw Frank and started to shoot again.
Both shot at about the same time. I didn't see
what happened next. As I was struggling with the woman,
my gun went off and she fell dead with a
sort of gasp. The other shots that Cole heard came
from the gun of Towerly, the boy who had come
from the tent. Last. Dixon and Smith were both on

(10:47):
the ground, each hit by one shot from Frank's gun.
Dixon died three days later in jail at Fort Smith.
Frank had been hit by Smith, the bullet cutting a
furrow along his left arm from above the wrist entering
the body. Dixon had also hit him once, a wound
showing in his left side. Towerly, as he admitted later,

(11:10):
fired three shots at Frank as he lay helpless on
the ground. One entered Frank's mouth, going through his head,
killing him. He also took a shot at Coal as
he made his break for shelter. The bullet went through
Bob's overcoat, which Coal had on, but it did not
touch him. Towery made his escape. Coal went back to

(11:32):
Fort Smith, and some other deputies arrived and took charge
of the four bodies. There were no civil laws in
the Indian territory in those days you could carry as
many concealed weapons as you cared to. You could not
sue or be sued. The United States Deputy Marshal was
almost the law in court himself, and let it be

(11:55):
said to his everlasting credit that for his opportunities and
under the conditions then existing, he performed his duties well.
He was not like some of the later de ward
healing species, standing around on the village corner waiting for
some milky eyed bootlegger or rooming housekeeper to come around
and hand him ten dollars to look the other way.

(12:18):
If he knew the law was being violated, he got
his man, or the man got him. In those days,
the Indian territory was a vortex around which all the
law breakers congregated. If you went to read a subpoena
to even a preacher, he was liable to whip a
six shooter out of his bootleg and take a shot
at you. The death of Frank stirred up the Marshal's

(12:42):
force as nothing had done in years. Frank was easily
the most popular man in the United States service at
Fort Smith, populated with the citizens as with the men
he worked, with the usual reward for the arrest of
the slayer of a United States Deputy was doubled from
five hundred dollars to one thousand dollars. This fact and

(13:03):
others the chroniclers who attempted to be smirched the name
and record of Frank could easily have verified, had any
attempt been made to do so. With the death of Frank,
there came an invitation from the Marshal at Fort Smith,
Colonel John Carroll, to Grat Dalton to take the place
of Frank in the United States service. Gratt, at that

(13:25):
time was in California with my father, who had a
small string of race horses. He decided that the life
about the racetrack was a bit too tame for him,
although the Lord knows that even that life was far
more strenuous than the most strenuous of today's mode of living.
He answered the call and came back and joined the
Marshal's force at Fort Smith. Bob had been guarding prisoners

(13:47):
for Frank, and then accepted Grat's invitation to join him
as a guard. Bob was later appointed a deputy under
Colonel Yoe. Grat's desire to keep up the honor of
the Daltons in the United States service was what really
brought about the formation of the so called Dalton's Gang.
Had he remained in California with our father, probably all

(14:08):
of the bloody chapters that follow would have remained unwritten forever.
The deputy marshals in those days were paid by the
fee system. They were allowed ten cents a mile when
going to serve papers, forty cents a day for feeding
a prisoner, two dollars and a half for reading a warrant,
two dollars and a half for the commitment, and other fees.

(14:29):
In proportion. The guard paid by the deputy usually averaged
about two dollars a day, little enough for the dangers encountered.
The old Biblical saying of he who lives by the
sword dies by the sword was never truer than in
those days of the late eighties. On the frontier, Towurly,

(14:50):
the boy who last shot Frank made his escape, but
only for a short time. Every deputy in the Fort
Smith office was enraged and was on his trail. Cities
Moody and Stokely came upon Towerley at Atoka a few
days later. This was in eighteen eighty seven, and in
the fight that followed. Towerly killed Stokely, but was himself

(15:11):
fatally wounded by Moody. Before he died, he made a confession,
telling of the fight on the banks of the Arkansas
and admitting that he had shot Frank as he lay
on the ground helplessly wounded. The one thousand dollars reward
for the capture of Towerley did not do poor Moody
much good, as a short time later he was killed
by Billy Brunner, an Indian. His death was the result

(15:35):
of an accident, but it illustrates the tendencies of those
days and the danger in which every man in or
out of the service was. Moody and grat Dalton and
some other deputies were searching for an Indian named Gibson Partridge.
They were sent word that their man was in a
deserted house near a woods. Partridge was not inside, but

(15:58):
Bruner was. He was of the Northern Creek, and the
Northern and Southern tribes were at war with each other
all the time. Brunner said later, and he was believed
that when Moody and the others rode up, he thought
that some Southern Creek had found out where he was
and intended to attack him without waiting for any explanation,

(16:22):
For in those days a man shot first and then
asked questions later, that being the safest way, he fired
a shot that killed Moody, and another through Grat's arm.
It hardly seems fair to me that the stigma which
the term the Dalton Gang carried, and even to day
still carries, should be visited upon the rest of our

(16:44):
rather prolific family. True, it is that among those who
knew them best, who had spent years with them, who
had battled the rigors of the western winters and the
heat of the western towards sun side by side, no
family is more thought of or more highly respected than
the Daltons, excepting, of course, those of us, who, in

(17:08):
the parlance of the day, composed the gang. When the
shots of the Coffeeville raid were still resounding, tales of
our alleged desperate deeds sprang up hither and yon, usually
without foundation. Many a self made hero has held some

(17:29):
witless audience by relating his own heroic conduct while facing
the Daltons. Chapter three. Bob Dalton is Deputy United States
Marshall On August twenty sixth, eighteen eighty nine, an incident occurred,

(17:50):
which has had many versions in the telling. That was
the killing of Charlie Montgomery and timber Hills near Coffeeville, Kansas,
the home of our family and later the scene of
the last raid of the Daltons. Montgomery was ana'er do
well who came from no one knows where and lived
no one knew how. He was guilty of smuggling whiskey

(18:12):
into the Indian territory and of horse stealing, but nothing
definite had been placed against him for a long time. Finally,
the United States Marshal Jacob Yoh sent Bob, who had
been promoted to a United States Deputy Marshal, to get
Montgomery on a warrant for the robbery of Jacob Bartell's store.

(18:33):
Bob took Ol Landers with him as posseman. They searched
all day for Montgomery, but did not find him until
about sundown. Standing in front of Lon Brown's cabin, Bob
and Landers crawled up without a word. Montgomery turned and
fired a shot at Landers and then ran around the house.

(18:54):
Bob was coming around the house as Montgomery ran into him.
Pell Mell Montgomery had his gun in his hand. There
were two shots. Montgomery fell dead. Bob luckily escaped unhurt.
Things grew quiet for a time, and there was but
small picking for the deputy. His expenses far exceeded his pay.

(19:17):
As an example, I might add that the deputy was
forced to bury any prisoner he might kill at his
own expense, if the dead man had no relatives. It
was this way with Montgomery. Bob himself paid out eighty
dollars for Montgomery's funeral. In April eighteen ninety, the United
States Marshal wired Bob at Tulsa that Deputy Marshall Cox

(19:40):
had just been badly wounded by Alex Cochrane at Claremore,
and for him to proceed to Claremore and arrest Cochrane,
who had escaped. Cochrane, who was one eighth Cherokee Indian,
had always borne a good reputation and was a good
man when sober, but very dangerous when drinking. The Marshal

(20:00):
had also wired our brother Grat at Veneta the same instructions.
Bob and I got on the train at Tulsa and
met Grat at Claremore. Arriving at Claremore, we all walked
over to the hotel and set our Winchesters in the office.
Bob started up the street and met Davis Hill, a merchant,
who laughingly said, hello, Bob, looking for Alex, I suppose,

(20:25):
to which Bob said, yes, And if he will come
in and surrender, I won't even lock him up. Not
much danger of him surrendering, said Hill until he hears
how Cox comes out. By this time, several of the
town's never works had gathered around and commenced making little
insinuating remarks as to what Cochrane would do to anyone

(20:46):
who tried to arrest him. Mister Hill seemed to take
new courage at the appearance of the crowd, and continued
by saying, well, Bob, if you want Alex so bad,
why don't you go get him. He was in my
store just a few minutes ago and bought a box
of cartridges, and there he goes riding down the road.
Are you sure that's him, asked Bob. Yes, said Hill,

(21:09):
don't you think I know him and his old roan horse.
Bob rushed back to the hotel, picked up his Winchester
and said to Gratt and me, you boys get horses
and come on. Walking out to the hitching rack, Bob
took the first saddle horse he came to, got on
him and started on a run after the supposed Alex Cochrane.

(21:30):
Running up to within about one hundred yards of the
party riding the horse, Bob jumped off and called to
him to stop. Instead of stopping, the man put spurs
to his horse and started to run. Bob shot once
and the horse wheeled to the right and ran all
the faster. Then Bob shot twice more and the horse fell.

(21:50):
By this time Grat and I had arrived, and we
all walked up to where the horse and rider lay.
The rider was Young Cochrane, old Alex's son, who had
been sent by his father to town to get the
news and some cartridges. On examination, the doctor found Young
Cochrane had been shot through the thigh, the bullet passing
on through the saddle fender and horse. It was the

(22:13):
last shot at a distance of three hundred yards, with
the horse running, which did the work. Young Cochrane had
been made of victim by the indirect attempt of the
town's would be wise men, who in those days almost
universally disliked a marshall. After a short time, Bob went
to the southern District of Kansas, working under Marshall Jones.

(22:34):
Later he organized the Indian Police Force for the Osage
Nation and appointed me as his posseman. These men, about
eighteen in number, all mounted with Bob at their head,
patrolled the territory doing regular police duty. It was while
at this work that the injustice that the government's representatives
sometimes do its hardest working employees was brought to Bob's

(22:58):
mind full and directly. Marshal Jones had been succeeded by R. L. Walker.
Walker always had some excuse the government had not made
the appropriation. The money would be coming along soon, but
soon never materialized. Bob became dissatisfied and finally threw up
his place. Money was as necessary then as now, But

(23:22):
in those days the country was overrun with men who
had placed themselves in power, and power had a sinister
meaning grafting, as we of to day know, the term
was a mild, soothing description of what occurred. The government
was fleeced by the men in authority, and then men
in the ranks were fleeced as well. Was it any

(23:44):
wonder that many men who worked long and faithfully for
the enforcement of the law and then found themselves swindled
and maulted by the lawless, finally threw up their hands
in disgust with the mental comment, what's the use It
was treatment of this sort, merely using Bob's case as
a slight example, that was responsible for much of the

(24:05):
outlawry that started conceived in dissatisfaction. It gradually took different
forms until the entire West was impregnated with it. Western
life was the acme of the survival of the fittest.
Many a man found, to his horror and disgust that

(24:25):
the fit ones seemed be those who scoffed at the law.
The upholders of order and the government were usually found
to be wanting in something. The men of those days
were not the calm, deliberative, logical, slow thinking men of today.
The country, the customs, and the people were not of
that kind. It was a time when the bare passions

(24:49):
showed on the surface at all times. Hypocrisy was at
a discount. The outlaw, the thief, the swindler was soon
known for what he was. There was no disguising his conduct.
Each man looked deep into his neighbour's soul and knew
him for what he was, just as he himself knew

(25:10):
his neighbor was looking into his When a man became dissatisfied,
he did not chain to fight down his emotions. He
let them have full sway. That was the way of
the time. It was the only way the men of
that day knew. Deeply chagrined at Marshall Walker's treatment of him,

(25:32):
Bob resigned and turned over his accounts against Walker to
George Hartley, a wealthy Indian trader at Pahusca. Mister Hartley
was a good friend of ours, and after repeated and
persistent attempts, failed to collect anything from Walker. Is it
any wonder, then, that the thoughts of a young fellow
who had gained a fairly good start in life should

(25:55):
turn to thoughts of retaliation and revenge.

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Speaker 2 (26:35):
Chapter four, our first crime. After mister Hartley's failure to
collect any of his fees, and with nothing to do,
Bob decided we would take a trip to New Mexico
and perhaps we could get into some kind of business
out there. With us went William mcilhoney, known as narrow
Gage Kid, George Newcombe, and Charlie Bryant. We had all

(26:57):
ridden away from Oklahoma and were close to Civil City,
New Mexico. We were all tired and decided that a
few days rest would do us no harm. Anyway, into
the town, we rode and dismounted all of this, went
into the one hotel and sat down at the same
table together for a meal. It was not the kind
of meal the best hotel of a town would put
up in this day, but it was far more than

(27:18):
satisfactory to us after our days of camping out in
all kinds of weather and cooking our own scanty meals.
At the same table with us sat a big Westerner
who informed us frequently that he had been the Marshall
Ben Canty, and that upon his shoulders had rested the
burden of keeping the peace in that place. After hearing
the name Ben Canty, we got to questioning mister Canty

(27:42):
and learned that he had been an old time friend
and neighbor of our family in North Missouri. Canty presented
Bob with a beautiful gold watch and chain, which was
lost at Coffeeville, Kansas. There By accident or fate enters
one of the most important members of what was later
on to be known as the Dalton Gang, one who
played her part to perfection, but like all the rest,

(28:05):
destined to lose in the end. While visiting around Silver
City several days with ex Marshall Canty, Bob was introduced
by mister Canty to a Miss Eugenia Moore. She was
also of North Missouri and had come out to New
Mexico in search of health and a position as school teacher.
Miss Moore was of a fine old Missouri family, all
of whom were dead. She was a beautiful young lady

(28:27):
about twenty two years old, pure of mind, a fair telegrapher,
unusually intelligent and courageous, as I will explain later on.
After making arrangements to meet Miss Moore and Guthrie Oklahoma,
later on, Bob announced that we would start back to Oklahoma,
starting northwest from Silver City. We rode into Santa Rosa,

(28:48):
New Mexico a few days later, arriving at Santa Rosa,
we put our horses in the feed yard and went
up to a Chinese restaurant for supper. While eating supper,
our friend, the Chinese restaurant prietor announced heap bligglame and
saloon plenty clow boys in town tonight. After supper, our

(29:08):
Chinese friend volunteered to pilot us down to the saloon.
A saloon in those times meant a gambling place and
dance hall combined, rather than a place of refreshments. It
was not long until all of us except Bob were
seated at a table bucking a Mexican monte game, at
which our Chinese friend claimed to be an expert. I

(29:28):
got tired and gave my place to Bob, who had
been standing guard. I might add here that one of
us was always on guard both night and day, while
the others were occupied with anything else. It was sort
of a military habit formed while my brothers were United
States marshals, and even strictly carried out up to the
night before the Coffeeville, Kansas raid. As an onlooker at

(29:52):
the game, it did not take me long to discover
that the monte games was crooked I waited until I
could verify my suspicions, and then, nodding Bob to one side,
said that's a crooked game. Well, if you are sure,
he said, we will teach these greasers a lesson. By
this time, about ten o'clock in the night, there were

(30:14):
about forty or fifty, it seemed, of every nationality, all
except the black man, gambling, drinking and dancing, and all armed.
Bob told me to stand at the front door ready,
and one by one he nodded the others off to
one side and told them what was up. Then, at
the signal from Bob, like a flash of lightning and

(30:35):
with a clocklike precision, we all drew our six shooters
and commanded hands up without a word. All obeyed except
the Chinaman, who, with two or three long bounds, cleared
about twenty feet towards the door where I was on guard.
Seeing the Chinaman coming, I widened out my legs to
block his passage through the door, but with the ease

(30:57):
and nimbleness of an acrobat, my Chinese fris and ducked
his head and between my legs he went like a
greased pig, partly upsetting me. After I regained my balance.
I fired my six shooter a couple of times in
the air to see what my Chinese friend could do.
I have often heard it said that a chinaman never
made a foot racer, but here is one. If he

(31:19):
is alive, I will go broke on any time. Stepping
back into the saloon, I heard Bob say, you people
don't know how to treat strangers, so we'll teach you
how strangers should be treated. In a jiffy, he had
taken all the crooked proprietor's bank roll, not molesting the patrons.
Getting on our horses, which we had led from the

(31:39):
feed yard and tied in front of the saloon, we
let out a fusilade of shots into the air, which
sent everyone scurrying for cover. This was our first crime,
but it was not premeditated and was done merely to
punish a crooked gambler. And the chances are it would
never have happened had the grafting officials paid Bob what
they justly owed him. But I do not offer that

(32:01):
in justification of our act. The following day, after our
trouble over the Monte game, a mixed posse started out
after us, along late in the afternoon. As we were
approaching the brush, we looked back across a large plateau
and saw a crowd of six or seven following us.
We guessed immediately that they were officers. Myself and the

(32:22):
other boys wanted to ride back and meet them and
have it out in the open, but Bob said, no,
we will make a little detour down here, cross the
river at the falls and wait for them to start
down the banks, then open up on them. As if
he had directed them. They seemed to have followed his
thoughts out in detail, riding down and crossing the little

(32:43):
river at what we learned later was sitting Bull Falls.
We all drew our guns, sat on our horses, and
waited for the Mexicans to come down the bank. In
about twenty minutes we heard them coming through the brush
on the other side, chattering in Mexican and making as
much noise as a wild heard of stampeding Texas steers.
I think, more to scare us on than anything else.

(33:06):
The distance across the river was about one hundred and
fifty yards. As they came down the bank, Bob opened
fire on them, the rest of us doing likewise. The
leading Mexican's horse was seen to rear up whirl and
all started back up the bank. After they had all
let loose one volley at us, one shot had hit
mclhanney in the arm. Bob called, let's charge them. Putting

(33:30):
our spurs to our horses, all of us except mclhanney
started in a run across the river after the Mexicans
running up the bank. On the other side. We looked
across an open space and there, about three hundred yards
from us, we saw the brave Mexican officers entering the brush.
On the run. Bob jumped off his horse, raised as
Winchester and fired. Once the rear horse was seen to

(33:54):
fall and its rider hit the ground. Running returning, we
gave first aid to mclehanney wounded arm, which consisted of
washing it in the river and bandaging it with a
large cut of tobacco next to the wound. Getting on
our horses, we rode leisurely back towards Oklahoma. Oh, yes,
you are one of those fourth of July political patriots

(34:16):
who roast the bankers for their inhuman treatment of the poor.
Yet you are up here in no man's land trying
to legally rob an old widow out of her little
team of mules. Now, partner, stick that twenty in your
pocket and let me see how fast you can get
back into Oklahoma. And don't let me ever hear of
you being up here again, or I will take back

(34:38):
my twenty with perhaps double the rate of interest you
have tried to inflict on this old lady. Chapter five.
Back in Oklahoma, after riding several days through what was
then known as the Cherokee Strip, we arrived close to

(34:58):
the northwest corner of Oklahoma, where we camped at the
place of an elderly soldier's widow by the name of Sands.
Living with missus Sands were her two grandsons, aged twelve
and fourteen. She was very poor and was under the
mistaken idea that she, being an old soldier's widow, the

(35:20):
government would give her the preference in selecting her farm.
As soon as the Cherokee Strip was opened to settlers.
This was a noted stopping place to all stockmen and
night riders, as she was never known to ask any questions.
In those days, it was almost an insult to ask
one's name, where he came from or where he was going.

(35:44):
While talking to missus sands on the prospects of replenishing
our pack. Up rode a big, fat, rednecked Oklahoma farmer,
stock raiser and money lender, who very brusquely informed her
that he had secured the proper papers from the court
and would have to have his mortgage satisfied or he
would have to take her two little Mexican mules all

(36:05):
the team she had on which he had a twenty
dollars mortgage with eight dollars interest. Bob listened a few
minutes and then said to him, let's see your mortgage partner.
Taking the mortgage and looking at it for a few seconds,
Bob handed it back to him and said, just right
on the back of that, paid in full and sign

(36:26):
your name. I'll pay it myself. The money lender took
the mortgage, wrote on it what Bob had told him,
and handed it back. Then Bob handed him twenty dollars
and said, there is your principal. You don't need any interest.
The money lender protested and said he had held several

(36:47):
county offices and been in the legislature up north and
was clearly within his lawful rights, to which Bob closed
the argument by saying, oh, yes, you are one of
those Fourth of July political patriots who roast the bankers
for their inhuman treatment of the poor. Yet you are
up here in no Man's Land trying to legally rob

(37:08):
an old widow out of her little team of mules. Now, partner,
stick that twenty in your pocket and let me see
how fast you can get back into Oklahoma. And don't
let me ever hear of you being up here again.
What was known as the Cherokee Strip in those days
was a strip of land fifty two miles wide, lying

(37:28):
between Kansas and Oklahoma and extending from the Arkansas River
west to what was known as No Man's Land, and
on west to New Mexico. It had been used for
grazing large herds of cattle, but they had all been
put out preparatory to its opening to settlers. It was
an ideal country to scout in, plenty of water and grass,

(37:50):
with no one but a few sooners who were hiding
in there waiting for the strip to open. Being close
to our mother's home at Kingfisher, Oklahoma, we decided to
go by and pay her a short visit. On the
road to our mother's home, we talked over our past
troubles while in the Marshall's service, and as is always
the case, the more you think and talk over your troubles,

(38:13):
the larger and more menacing they become. Just before arriving
at our home, Bob decided he would visit our brother
Bill in California, and Bryant and I were to take
the horses and go out to Jim Riley's ranch, about
sixty miles southwest of Kingfisher, Oklahoma, and stay there until
we heard from him. Then mclhanney decided he would go

(38:34):
with Bob, as there were several charges against him in
the east part of the territory, and Newcombe went to
his claim about twelve miles east of Guthrie. Taking Bob
and mclhaney's horses, saddles and Winchester's, Bryant and I went
out to Riley's cattle ranch and established a camp by
digging a dugout four miles south of Riley's headquarters. We

(38:55):
rode the south line for Riley all winter watching after
his cattle. Afterwards, this was always our headquarters. Bob had
written to Miss Moore at Guthrie to stay there until
she heard from him. Then he and mclhaney got on
the train at Kingfisher, Oklahoma, and started for California. In
the meantime, our brother Grat had become dissatisfied with his

(39:15):
work as marshall at Fort Smith, Arkansas, and resigned. Someone
was getting the money he was working for. It was
just Graft. But strange as it may sound in the
light of future events, Graft did not appeal to any
of us, so he gave up his commission and went
to California to assist our brother Lytt, who was ranching
then at Fresno. Mclhaaney had assumed the name of Emmett Dalton,

(39:38):
for what reason I have never been able to understand,
unless it was from the fact that he was wanted
and I was not here. I will repeat just as
near as I can what happened to Bob and mclhanney
in California, just as he told it to me. Chapter
six forced into outlawry. Most of the time mclhaney and

(40:01):
I were at Bill's ranch, helping with the stock and
working about at odd things. Money was needed, and time
after time I made efforts to get the one thy
four hundred dollars due me from United States Marshall Walker,
but always without any success. My reputation as United States
Marshal had preceded me, and as usual had been elaborated upon.

(40:24):
The things that Frank and I and Grad had done
in enforcing the law were often twisted about a bit,
and the telling in a way. Californians felt that they
had in their midst some bad men. Then, in the
month of February eighteen ninety one came the event which
changed the entire tenor of our lives. Grad had come

(40:44):
to Fresno. Mcklhaney and I were at Bill's ranch, going
about our daily work in our usual way. A stockman
riding by brought the news heard about the hold up.
He called out with the freemasonry of the West, for
that was the way a news spread. Train held up
at Alila Express Box blown up and firemen killed. The wells.

(41:07):
Fargo and Southern Pacific have offered a reward for the
hold up men. It's five thousand dollars so long. And
he rode away to spread the news. Guess someone made
a haul, remarked mclelhanney to me, as we went out
to look the stock over. Sometimes I think it's better
to take a chance and get the coin that way
than to take the chances you did when Marshaline and
get nothing. Wonder who did it, I said, as we

(41:30):
walked along. Don't know and don't care, but I kind
of wish we had, replied mcklhanney. Then came the shock.
By the usual grapevine method of communication, came the word
the Daltons did it. We first heard of it when
a neighbor warned us that Smith, a Wells Fargo detective,

(41:51):
and Ed O'Neill's, sheriff of the county were on their
way to Bill's ranch in search of us. We knew
that we had done nothing, but we also knew that
being suspected meant half conviction. In those days, the Southern
Pacific owned the state. It owned the sheriffs, judges, and
other officials. It juggled men's lives just as it juggled

(42:13):
the government's lands. Well, they won't get us, I said,
let's get out, but it was too late. O'Neil and
Smith drove up and saw Bill's boy, four years old,
in the yard. Just as we started to make our getaway.
I had picked up the youngster and had said goodbye, Charlie,
uncle Bob is going to Seattle. Then, as Smith came

(42:34):
up and saw the boy and asked, where is your
uncle Bob, the boy remembered.

Speaker 4 (42:49):
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Speaker 2 (43:04):
Uncle Bob has gone to Seattle, he prattled Smith, the
wise detective, the man who literally drove three of us
into our lawless lives. Was satisfied, he went into the
house where mclhaney and I now were. In the back room,
he saw Bill, but the boy had satisfied him that
they were not there. They talked for a time. Smith

(43:26):
was open in his statements that he wanted to arrest
three of us for the train robbery. I know they
did it, and I'll get them, he said. My brother
Bill's expostulations that Bob had not left the farm and
that Grat was in Fresno had no weight. Oh, I'll
get them, he laughed, as he and O'Neill took off
their six shooters and prepared to spend the night at

(43:47):
Bill's request. Back in the darkness of the next room,
which Smith had not thought to search, McIlhaney and I
sat tense and almost breathless, said Bob. We heard Smith
boastingly tell Bill what would happen to us when we
were caught. It did not matter whether we had really
robbed the train or not. He Smith, the detective, thought so,

(44:10):
and that was sufficient. The Express company in the railroad
would see to it, and the Dalton boys would go
to the penitentiary. In those few minutes in that bare,
dark room, the Dalton Gang was born. We knew that
Smith was telling the truth when he said that if caught,
we were facing a prison sentence. We knew, as did

(44:30):
everyone else, that plain truth, unbacked by power and money,
had no chance to grapple with the railroad and Express company.
Had it not been that we were in Bill's home
and that Ed O'Neill was present. O'Neill, who had always
been square and a friend to us, I feel certain
that Smith's boasting would have come to a quick end. Well, Bill,

(44:52):
we heard him say, I'm sorry for you, but I'm
going to get those two brothers of yours, and you
can visit them later in the pen. You can bet
I'll get them. There was not a sound from our room,
but my hands gripped my Winchester tighter just as mcklhanney
gripped his and I felt like stepping out and saying, like,
hell you will. And there the Dalton Gang was formed.

(45:16):
Next morning, after Smith and O'Neill had driven away, mclhaney
and I went to the barn and saddled our horses.
Our minds had been made up in an instant. Knowing
the country and conditions as we did, we knew our
word that we had nothing to do with the robbery
of the train would not stand a moment against the
efforts of the railroad and Express Company. It was easy

(45:38):
to buy witnesses. Testimony that would send us or any
unfortunate who might have been marked out by the powers
that be could be obtained for a few dollars. True,
a life or two might be blasted, but then the
railroad or the Express company needed someone to use as
an example. Fate had it that we were chosen. Had

(46:01):
it not been us, it would have been someone else.
We mounted and rowed toward the mountains. From what Smith
had said, we knew that he was looking for our
brother grat as well, but we were not uneasy on
that score. We knew that he was in Fresno to
visit Lyttleton, another brother, and felt sure that his whereabouts
one hundred miles from the scene of the robbery, would

(46:22):
be easy to establish. We were unskilled in the way
of the law, even though we knew what could happen
in a general way. But we were not fully prepared
to give battle to a ruthless corporation which owned a
large part of the state and was known to employ
nothing but a bunch of cutthroats in its secret service.
While we had taken to our heels thereby putting the

(46:44):
stigma of outlawry upon ourselves. Of our own free will,
Grat had been arrested by Smith at Fresno. He proved,
by the testimony of Lyttleton, as well as a score
of other prominent citizens, that he had been in the
Grand Central Hotel playing poker all night. It was a
physical impossibility that he could be in Fresno and at Alila,

(47:04):
one hundred miles away at the same time. So Grat
was freed at once. He went to San Francisco, laughing
a little at the experience and the discomfiture of Smith
the detective, But he reckoned without taking into consideration Smith's
tenacity of purpose, a tenacity that I feel could have
been used in a better cause in this instance, at

(47:25):
least at San Francisco, Grat was again arrested by Smith.
Smith's case was that he had been seen in our company,
which was not true, and we were given a reputation
based solely upon the wild stories that had preceded us
from Oklahoma. Also, had we not taken to our heels,
and were we not now fugitives from justice with a

(47:46):
posse after us with a large reward offered for our capture.
But once more Grat freed himself and then went to
Bill's farm to take up his duties as foreman. But
there again the persistent Smith followed, and once more Grat
was in jail on the same charge. This time Smith
found a more congenial court, a bit more under the

(48:08):
power of the master. Smith represented for the third time,
Gratt prepared to tell and substantiate his story of his
whereabouts on the night of the train hold up. This
time his bail was fixed at twenty thousand dollars, which
he was unable to furnish, and he was forced to
stay in jail while the time for the trial dragged on.

(48:33):
Chapter seven Bob Escapes from California. In the meantime, McIlhaney
and I had dodged about in the mountains. Bob continued
until soon the following posse gave up. Then we started
to ride on horseback back to Oklahoma. Riding down the
east side of the Coast Range Mountains, we headed for

(48:54):
Tahatchipee Pass, where the Coast Range and Sierra Nevada Mountains meet.
We had been riding all day without ourselves or horses
having anything to eat. About twelve o'clock that night we
reached the summit of the mountains. It was beginning to
snow and becoming so dark and cold in the trail,
so dim and narrow, that we unsaddled our horses, built

(49:17):
a fire of pine knots, and lay down to sleep
in about one inch of snow, allowing our horses to
browse on dead pine tops. About three o'clock in the morning,
our horses led out an awful snort and tried to
break loose. Rolling out from under our blankets, we crawled
along on our stomachs up to where the horses were
tied to get their vision of that which was wrong.

(49:41):
Looking up into a tree top About thirty yards away,
I sky lighted a large dark object which almost took
away my breath. Instantly raising my winchester, I fired at
it down. It came through the tree branches, breaking the
smaller dead ones, which sounded like a kid's Fourth of
July celebration. It hit the ground with a sickening groan.

(50:03):
Cautiously walking up to it, we lit a match and
discovered it was a small, young mountain lion, looking at
me with a smile on his face. The kid mclhaney inquired,
do you think you could have done as well if
that had been Detective Smith, to which I replied, all
I would like would be to have him in the
same place and try it. The next morning we saddled

(50:25):
our horses and rode over the pass down to an
old irishman's little ranch, where we fed our horses and
got our breakfast. Our Irish host was very talkative while
we were eating, telling us all about the train robbery
at Alila and the schemes the officers were trying to
catch the Dalton boys, but that when he saw that
good old Irish named Dalton in the papers, he knew

(50:47):
they would never catch them. He casually remarked that if
he was a little younger, he would be none too
good to tackle the express company himself, and that he
had a son who had been deputy sheriff for years
who would be none too good to take a hand either.
Bidding our Irish hosts good bye and informing him we
would be back in three or four days, we mounted

(51:09):
and rode off down the valley toward the Majave Desert,
a distance of twenty miles. About three o'clock in the afternoon,
we rode up to a sheepherders camp at the edge
of the desert and made arrangements to rest and feed
ourselves and horses for that evening and night. The next
morning we started in to ride across the desert to Needles, California,

(51:30):
a feat which never had been accomplished on horseback and
one in which we failed. After riding down the Santa
Fe railroad for two days through the hot sun and
cactus bushes, which are inhabited with jack rabbits, rattlesnakes, and
screech owls, we sighted a section house. By this time,

(51:50):
the kid's horse was ready to quit, but by riding
slow we finally got him up to the section house,
where we met the young section foreman and his wife,
two of the people it has been my good fortune
to meet. After getting some things to eat from them,
we informed them we were sheep men going over into
Arizona after a herd of sheep, and that we would

(52:11):
like to leave our horses with them until we came
back by or sent for them. This being arranged, we
caught the next freight train to the Needles, where we
switched on to a passenger train. That night, took a
sleeper and rode into Peabody, Kansas, and from there on
into Dover, Oklahoma. When we got off and walked out
to our mothers. That night, Smith the Great Detective had

(52:34):
lost Bill had written our sister, who sent me word
that Bob and mcilhaaney would be back shortly, and I
was there with their horses and winchesters to meet them.

Speaker 4 (52:44):
That night.

Speaker 2 (52:45):
All of us got on our horses and rode over
east of Guthrie to Newcombe's Claim, where he joined us,
and all of us rode down in the Creek Indian country.
Passing through Guthrie, Bob stopped and saw Miss Moore, who
had come from Silver City at his request McIlhaney went
to see his sister in Arkansas and never came back

(53:07):
out in the plains once more a stop at a
cow camp or two, and the word was wired about
faster than any wireless of today, that the Daltons were back.
Soon Doolan, Broadwell and Powers had joined us, and we
began looking about for something new to do. We wanted
but one thing, the arrival of grat It was the
same old thing over again, riding about, keeping under cover

(53:31):
as much as possible. News that we were wanted in
California and had shown ourselves again come to the front,
and soon posses were out. One morning, while resting on
the side of a little hill, we noticed a bunch
of men approaching. That meant something. We must find out
whether they be friend or foe. Our horses taken to
the other side of the hill, we concealed ourselves behind

(53:51):
the ravine banks about two hundred yards away. We recognized
the party in It was Heck Thomas, a Deputy marshal
and close friends of all of us, a man with
whom we had often faced death and danger together. Then
there was burrel Cox, another deputy, a skunk whom we
had fed for years. Next we recognized our old enemy, Smith,

(54:12):
the Wells Fargo detective, and beside him Tiger Jack, an
Indian scout known as one of the best trailers in
the country. With Smith and Jack in the crowd, there
was no doubt as to their intention. They were trailing us.
Bob took out his field glasses and watched the party approach.
None of us said a word, but we gripped our
rifles closer and muttered a brief prayer that they would

(54:35):
shoot straight when they fired. Even then my sight was
on Smith, far away as he was. All the bitterness
that had been engendered in me rose up, but I
never was to make that preyed for shot. A short
distance away from us, the party came to a halt
and dismounted. Then they proceeded to make camp. We watched
all the preparations, Bob reporting snatches of conversation he was

(54:58):
able to read from their lips. Not been for the
presence of Heck Thomas, we would have crawled forward and
annihilated them then and there. But Thomas was our friend,
and we knew that in a battle of that kind,
friendships were forgotten. With the first gun fired, it would
be each man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost.

(55:19):
So we lay in our positions. Then we saw the
Indian Jack walk away. He did not come directly toward us,
but skirted around. We shifted our positions a bit to
keep all lines covered, but soon were reassured. When we
saw the Indian return to where Smith was. There was
some sort of disturbance that we were sure of. The

(55:41):
Indian was seen going toward his horse, jumping on and
starting to ride away. Smith grabbed him and angrily argued.
Later I learned that the Indian had caught our trail
and knew we were near. From that moment, the five
dollars a day he was to get had no attractions.
Returning to the crowd, announced squaw Heaped sick and his

(56:02):
family ties demanded his immediate return. Smith and the others
knew this was just a blind and argued with the Indian.
They felt we were near, but in what direction they
could not guess. Jack could have ten dollars a day,
but he must take up the trail again. This argument
only brought out the squaw Heap sick excuse doggedly again. Finally,

(56:25):
all argument useless. The party mounted and started to ride away,
unconscious of their great danger. This was the first and
only time they ever tried trailing us