Inside The Dalton Gang Part Two

Train Robberies Bring Troubles

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Episode 457 continues a three-episode exploration of the infamous Dalton Gang, who terrorize the Plains states near the end of the nineteenth century. In this episode, the gang strikes it rich with a big haul, and some want to retire, but getting out of the country isn't the piece of cake they thought it would be.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:03):
True crime historian presents Inside the Dalton Gang, Part two.
Train Robberies Bring Troubles, Chapter eight, The Wharton train Robbery.
The constant pursuit had worn upon our nerves. I never
have been a deep psychological student, and possibly my logic

(00:27):
is at times faulty, and I cannot give the exact
reason we stepped over the borderline between right and wrong.
I do know, however, that during our long rides over
the valleys and deserts, and on the nights we camped
out under the stars on the plains, the injustice of
the situation rankled more and more upon us. There were

(00:48):
plenty of others like us in that country, and it
was not long before the masonry of those in trouble
brought us together. And our dodging from pillar to post,
always keeping ahead of the sheriff and marshalls, who wanted
the reward offered for us for a crime of which
we knew nothing except that we were accused of having
committed it, we came into contact with robbers, horse thieves,

(01:10):
and all around rustlers. The first two whom we took
into our confidence were George Newcombe and Charlie Bryant. Both
had been with us in New Mexico, and were good
riders and shooters, and with a Devil May Care strain
running through them, and a recklessness that was second only
to that of Bob himself. We continued to ride about
for a time, and without our aid, our reputation grew.

(01:33):
Hold Ups and raids occurred in different parts of the country,
and it was always reported that the Daltons did it.
Day after day we heard of different crimes that had
been laid at our door. Then came the Wharton train robbery.
Listening to casual bits of conversation at different times on
the wires, Miss Moore, who was an amateur telegrapher herself,

(01:55):
learned that the Wells Fargo Express Company was about to
carry an unusually large sum of money from Kansas City, Missouri.
Getting on her horse, which Bob had bought for her,
she came from Guthrie to where we were told Bob
and rode back to Guthrie that night. After a conference
between Bob, George Newcombe, and Charlie Bryant, it was decided

(02:17):
to hold up the express car near Wharton in the
Cherokee Strip. After deciding on the Wharton robbery, Bob mapped
out what I should do. Calling me to one side,
Bob said, tomorrow night you go by Guthrie and see
miss Moore and tell her to go to Woodward and
stay there until she hears from me. Then go on
to Kingfisher and get some cartridges and be at Riley's camp.

(02:40):
Have all our horses up and in good condition. Here's
the boy's description of the robbery to me quote about dusk,
the three of us rode toward Wharton from our camp.
About ten miles out. At the stockyards, one fourth of
a mile or so from the town, we stopped and
hitched our horses to a fence where Bryant was left

(03:00):
in charge. The plan of action was simple, as we
saw it. Bob and Newcombe were to walk down to
Wharton and wait for the ten thirty train to arrive.
As the conductor gave the signal to go ahead, they
were to jump into the engine cab, overpower the firemen
and engineer and force them to run the train to
the stockyards where Bryant was waiting. Then they would force

(03:22):
the crew to get on the ground, uncouple the engine,
force open the express car, take what they could get
and rejoin Bryant at the fence where he was waiting
with the horses. Everything worked to perfection as they had planned.
As the train puffed into the little ramshackle station, Bob
and Nucombe were hidden a few rods from the track,
enshrouded by the shadows of the night by the stockyard's fence.

(03:46):
Bryant sat nervously smoking his cigarette, waiting for the sound
of the engine's approach. Finally, down the track, there came
the glare of the headlight, followed by the coughing, choking
sound of the engine. Straining his eyes to the utmost,
Bryant could make out several figures in the engine cab
and knew that so far the plan was working. Bryant

(04:06):
said hastily. I went from horse to horse, making everything
in readiness for the quick getaway, which I knew would
soon occur at the stockyards. The train began to slow down.
I could see Bob and Newcombe standing over the engineer.
They're six shooters in their hands. As the train came
to a halt, Newcomb sprang down a revolver in his hand,

(04:28):
ready to stop the conductor and others who were certain
to spring to the ground to learn the cause of
the delay. By this time I could restrain myself no
longer in rushing out. I joined them, making the fireman
an engineer walked to the express car. Bob gave a
rap on the door of it, and the messenger stuck
out a white face. What's the matter? What's up? I

(04:50):
could hear him ask. His answer came when Bob jumped
up and was inside his car, with his revolver covering him.
Before he could make a dash for his own revolver
or Winchester Newcombe in the meantime, had taken his place
alongside the train. Curious heads that came out of the
windows went back with a jerk when the court here there,
get back was shouted out, especially as the long Colts

(05:13):
backed up the command. When Bob entered the car, he
saw two safes, one the small company safe from which
packages were taken at the different stops, and a larger
one known as the through safe. The word had been
circulated thoroughly by the company that the combination of this
safe was always set at Gainesville, Texas or Kansas City,

(05:34):
Missouri by the express agent there, and then telegraphed to
the end of the run to that even the car
messenger would not know it and could not open the
safe en route. This same report was circulated in regard
to all roads passing through the Indian territory. Throw the
stuff in here, ordered Bob. The messenger reached into the
safe and came out with a handful of packages, which

(05:55):
he threw into the sack. Bob looked inside the safe
and saw that it was empty. Now open the big one,
ordered Bob. Honestly, I don't know the combination, stuttered the messenger.
They closed it at Kansas City, Missouri, and wire the
combination on. I don't know a thing about it. So
help me, I don't. Bob knew full well that the
story of the secret Combination was but a blind to

(06:18):
cover an emergency such as the present. Open that, young fellow,
where it's the last chance you have to eat again,
he said, shoving his revolver into the messenger's side. So
help me, God, I don't know the combination, answered the messenger,
now on his knees by the safe. You're a liar,
and I know it, said Bob. Open it or bang

(06:38):
came a shot into the floor an inch or two
from the messenger's bended knee at that instant from the
outside came a rattle of shots. It was Nukem and
I shooting into the air as a warning to passengers
to keep inside and out of harm's way. The sound
of the other shots broke the backbone of the messenger's determination.
He was just a salaried employee and his life was precious.

(07:03):
In thirty seconds, the safe was open and the messenger
was throwing package after package, some bulky, some thin, but
all valuable into the gaping mouth of the sack. Guess
that's all, young fellow Bob said, as he turned toward
the door and came out. We all got on our
horses and rode back to our camp. There was a
quick dismounting and a tearing open of the packages. About

(07:24):
nine thousand dollars was the haul unquote. Chapter nine on
the Scout. A train robbery in California had made the
Dalton Boys train robbers in name, and now they were
train robbers in fact as well. The boys learned later

(07:48):
that on the train at Wharton was United States Marshal
Ransom Pain, the joke of the United States Marshal's office,
who never attempted to use his gun, and later on
was fired by United States Marshal Grimes for allowing the
usage of his name as a hero in a fake
book purporting to give lives of the Dalton Boys. There

(08:08):
were sporadic activities of different amateur sleuths who sought the
limelight for the instant by rushing to the foe, riding
about in a haphazard manner, supposedly on a warm trail.
These self styled trackers of the Daltons were seeking cheap
fame rather than us. Also, they were careful not to
get too far away from the money chest of the company.

(08:30):
As long as supposed clues could be furnished the company,
it was willing to grubstake some of these trailers, and
Ransom Pain made a profitable living out of us for
a year or more, although he never was within miles
of us, only at Wharton. Where are they, Payne asked, excitedly,
fumbling over his winchester and showing his warlike affront as possible.

(08:51):
About four miles down that road, a little off to
the left, in the first gully which has passed the
farmhouse at the fork in the road, was the explos
direction given? East or west? Asked Paine. East, said, the
rancher saddle up boys. The daring pain called to his men,
and when they were all in the saddle, Paine took
the lead and rode west. After the Wharton robbery, there

(09:15):
was no sense of wrongdoing to act as a canker.
In our souls. We had not raised our hands against
society as a whole, but against the Express Company, which
had made up probable as bitter as as any of
its thousands of enemies. Right here and now, let me
correct an impression that has gone broadcast. The Dalton Boys
were not swashbuckling freebooters devil may care bandits riding into

(09:39):
this or that small settlement, shooting and looting as they went.
Our spleen was directed against the company and it alone.
Crimes innumerable have been laid at our door, but they
are the mere babblings of the scandalmonger, or the vaporings
of mind of some inefficient railroad detective or incompetent official, who,
unable to solve mystery of which he had been told,

(10:02):
took refuge. In the words, the Daltons did it from
the time in the yard at Bill's Ranch in California
that we learned we were suspected of the Allila hold
up until the last ghastly minute on the street in Coffeeville.
There was hardly an hour that I did not know
where my brother Bob was. He was the leading genius
of our crowd, and nothing was done without his sanction.

(10:25):
Nothing was done unless he ordered it. And the idea
of the Daltons as a crowd of fifteen or twenty
armed bearded Ruffians riding wildly about the country keeping it
in a state of terror, is a false one. But
as I said before, I am not attempting anything in
our defense, but will permit the plain facts to speak

(10:46):
for themselves. When we started our war of revenge, Bob
and I were joined by George Newcombe and Charles Bryant.
Bryant later was killed by Marshall Short, who himself was
killed at the same time. Later we were joined by
Bill Powers, Charlie Pearce, my brother, grat, Dick Broadwell, Bill mclhaney,

(11:07):
and Bill Doolin. These are absolutely the only persons who
were ever connected with us in any way. Each and
every one is now dead and gone, and I am
the sole person left. As a result of those stirring times,
the pursuit after one of their affairs was a nerve
racking affair, merely for a few hours. Into the saddle

(11:28):
and off to their camp, always a few miles away
from the scene of the hold up. There I usually
had fresh horses awaiting them. Then out into the country,
away from towns or hamlets. Our pursuit usually was severe
for a few days, but always it dwindled away. Once
or twice we met with determined pursuits from this or

(11:49):
that firm minded officer, but these were few and far
between and gave us little concern. The ranchers were usually
our friends. From them we received information as to the
pursuit and other necessary information. Had we been the terrors
that fiction paints us, we never would have been able
to keep out as long as we did. Even today,

(12:10):
my mind is not exactly clear as to our decision
to hold up the train at Wharton. For months we
had been drifting about, forced by circumstances to be enemies
to society and the law. Our daily life, however, was
not what the standards of today would call for the
dissipation that is supposed to accompany the life of the

(12:31):
Bandit was not for us, none of us drank. Our
aim in life, backed by a bitterness that was almost unquenchable,
seemed to be to harass our enemy, the Express Company,
and then go away to South America to start anew.
I do not know whose suggestion the Wharton hold up was,
but that suggestion came and was accepted. Bob, who had

(12:55):
been accepted as our leader, and who was my particular chum,
laid out for me the duties of scout. It was
in this role that I accompanied them on all the
depredations or excursions choose your own word. I therefore was
kept out of much of the danger that the others encountered.
Bob's affection for me was as strong as mine for him.

(13:17):
He would have laid down his life for me at
any time, and it was my attempt to save him
as he lay wounded unto death on the ground at Coffeeville,
that brought me to earth and ended the last exploit
of the Daltons. Our coming frequently was a godsend to
some poverty stricken rancher, instead of being a cause for alarm. Remember,

(13:38):
we had money, evilly gained proceeds. It is true, But
even now who asks if money is tainted? When it
is offered very few. We had to have food, clothing, ammunition,
and horses, and everything we got was paid for, and
paid for highly. Often Bob, who was a big hearted

(13:58):
as he was hasty in temper and irreconcilable in his hate,
would pay a rancher four or five times the real
value of something purchased just to be able to help
him out of plainly evident straits. Possibly this was a
species of graft, but nevertheless it worked. It was golden
grease that paved our path downward, though it might have

(14:20):
been but the express company that supplied the grease, and
we cared nothing for that. The officers never gave us
any worry. In fact, seldom does any officer ever catch anyone,
even today, until after someone has given him the tip.
Chapter ten, Death of Charles Bryant. After a few days rest,

(14:45):
Bryant left our camp at Riley's to visit his brother
Jim at maul Hall, Oklahoma. Becoming sick on the road,
he stopped at the little town of Hennessy to stay
all night. Going to the only hotel, he took a
room and foolishly carried with him his Winchester, which aroused
the hotel proprietor's suspicion, who quickly wired United States Marshal

(15:07):
Grimes at Kingfisher. Although not possessed of an intelligence of
a very high degree, Bryant had been careful to keep
his tracks covered, and he had only been connected with
US by rumor. United States Deputy Marshal Ed Short was
sent to arrest Bryant on suspicion, not knowing who Bryant was.

(15:28):
Bryant was ill in bed when Short and a couple
of assistants walked into the hotel. The door of Bryant's
room was locked. What do you want and who are you?
Asked Bryant when he heard the knock at the door.
I'm United States Marshal Short, and I want you, answered
the deputy from outside the door. I'm too sick to
talk to you, so don't try to come in, or

(15:50):
you'll get killed, sang out Bryant weakly from the bed,
then started along Parley. Bryant was too sick to really
care whether he remained in bed there or in a jail. Finally,
he made a proposition. Look here, Short, he said, I'm
a sick man. Give me your word that you won't
handcuff me and I'll go with you quietly. But if

(16:12):
you don't and you try to come through that door,
I'll blow you to Kingdom. Come sure, promised Short, and
I'll get you a doctor. Bryant opened the door and
Short entered. First. He took Bryant's revolvers in Winchester, which
were on the bed beside him. Bryant made no protest.
Then Short made good his word and sent for a doctor.

(16:34):
It was found that Bryant was not feigning illness, and
after doping him up on a lot of medicine, it
was two or three hours before he could be moved. Finally,
Short went to his room and pulled out a pair
of handcuffs. The officers never gave us any worry. In fact,
seldom does any officer ever get up and slip these on.
Said Short, we are going to Wichita. Oh I'll go

(16:57):
all right, but you don't need those things. You said,
never mind what I said, put him on, snapped Short.
In a minute, Bryant was standing in the middle of
the room, trussed up like a sick chicken. Short started
laughing at him. You didn't think I'd take you out
of here without handcuffs? Did you, you fool, he taunted.
But you gave your word, argued Bryant, word nothing, said Short.

(17:20):
Never take any man's word. Well you just take mine,
shouted back Bryant, I'm going to kill you. Don't forget
that either. Oh we'll see about that. I guess you
are through doing anything of that sort for a while,
and I can take care of you any time, replied
Short as they started to the train. But a few
hours later showed that Bryant kept his word better than

(17:42):
the marshal, and that broken promise costs Short his life.
As the train came in, Short took Bryant into the
smoking car. There was a large crowd aboard, and for
fear that some friends of Bryant might attempt to rescue,
he got up and took him to the baggage car.
When they got in the baggage car, Carshort remembered that
he had left his Winchester in his seat. Here take

(18:04):
this gun and watch this man, he said to the messenger,
placing his six shooter on top of a trunk. I'm
going back to get my Winchester. As he closed the
door and stepped into the other car, Bryant, sitting on
a box, saw the revolver on the trunk. At the
other end of the car, the baggage man or messenger,
was bending over a package, paying no attention to the

(18:25):
prisoner with a few bounds. Bryant was beside the trunk
and had the revolver in the manacled hands. Don't you
make a move, he shouted, stuttering with fury, as the
messenger made a move toward his own winchester hanging on
the wall of the car. I'm going to kill that, marshal.
Just watch and see the thing that happens to a

(18:46):
fellow who breaks his word. To the end of the car,
he went and threw open the door. The train was
lurching along, but Bryant braced himself, keeping one eye on
the opposite door and partly on the messenger. He had
only a moment to wait. The other door opened and short,
his winchester in his hand, stepped onto the platform. As

(19:06):
he did, Bryant stepped forward, the revolver clutched in his
two hands. For a fraction of a second, the men
stood staring at each other. I said I'd kill you,
shouted Bryant above the roar of the car. And damn
you here goes. As he spoke, he fired, but his
last taunt proved his own undoing. As he fired, so

(19:28):
did Short. The Revolver and Winchester spoke At the same instant.
Both men straightened up. The Winchester dropped from Short's hand
and the Revolver from Bryant's. Then the bodies lurched forward,
sagged down, and together rolled off the platform alongside the train.

(19:49):
That was the end of Charles Bryant, a fighter, and
of Short, a man who broke his word.

Speaker 2 (20:03):
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Speaker 1 (20:30):
Chapter eleven, starting for South America. After thinking it all
over and realizing the futility and inevitable consequences of a
life of crime, we decided to go to South America.
Getting on our horses, Bob and I rode up to Woodward,
where he made arrangements with Miss Moore for her to

(20:51):
go over to Wagoner, Indian Territory and stay there until
she heard from him. It was Bob's intention to have
miss Moore take a train at Wagoner and go to Tampa, Florida,
where they were to be married just before sailing for
South America, but later reading of Grat's conviction in California,
he changed his plans. Although as far as our minds

(21:13):
were concerned, we had wiped the accounts clean between the
express Company and ourselves, still, reaching the South and getting
passage to South America was no easy proposition. We knew
that the police did not know and cared less had
they known about our mental reformation. Posse's were after us.
The words the Dalton Gang still urged on amateur detectives,

(21:37):
seeking fame and the reward which our capture would bring.
It was a cautious journey that we made. It was
days before we made for the railroad, arriving at Springfield, Missouri,
we took a train to Memphis, Tennessee, intending to go
to Atlanta, Georgia, and on to Tampa, where we would
catch a boat. First, we had to get rid of

(21:57):
our cowpuncher regalia. Bob got a cheap business suit such
as any rancher on a visit to the city might wear.
I had donned overalls and shoes instead of the usual
high heeled spurred boots, and I found walking along the
pavements hour after hour and unpleasant experience. It was nothing
like the easy ride on the back of a favored horse.

(22:19):
A cheap straw hat completed my make up, and I
was ready to pass for a farmer just off his
place in the Ozarks. Arriving at Memphis, I went to
the depot and got the tickets for Atlanta. As I
walked through the depot, I noticed two or three men,
plainly detectives, watching the passengers closely. As I passed two
of them, I heard a low whisper that fellow don't

(22:42):
look like a farmer, he walks like a cowboy. I
said nothing to Bob, however, but bought our tickets, paying
sixteen dollars and seventy five cents, and together we entered
the smoking car and took seats together. We were apparently
unconscious of our surroundings or of the fact that two
policemen kept walking along the platform carefully eyeing all passengers,

(23:06):
and those two innocent looking farmers in particular. It was
soon apparent to a man with half an eye that
something was in the wind, but I kept on reading
a newspaper. Under the overalls of that innocent looking young
farmer were two large forty five colts, either ready to
be whipped out on the instant. The quiet, tall, bronzed

(23:27):
farmer next to me had a similar equipment. But the
constant passing of the policemen along the platform was attracting attention,
and it was being directed our way. They reminded me
of a young turkey looking for a grasshopper. A young
fellow in the seat ahead of us half turned toward
us and remarked, in a low voice and tone to
no one in particular, some people had better be getting

(23:49):
wise to themselves. We took the hint at once, go
on into the other car, said Bob, I'll follow. I
did so, and, in walking out, bumped against one of
the police who was returning for another tour of inspection.
I never yet have been able to understand the antics
of those policemen. That they suspected us was certain, but
whether they thought we were the Daltons and were afraid

(24:10):
to take a chance of trying to arrest us I
do not know. However, I do know that had they
attempted it, there would have been a lively few minutes
In Memphis. Bob followed me into the other car, and
with a half nod to me, passed right through. I
joined him on the platform, and together we dropped down
on the off side of the train and were lost

(24:31):
to sight in the train yard. That was getting too
hot for us, explained Bob a little later. We had
better get out some other way. Our trip to New
Orleans was without any special incident. We were in the
same car, but in different seats and paid no attention
to each other. We realized that alone we could pass
the eyes of the railroad detectives and police without attracting attention.

(24:54):
The police were looking for the Dalton Boys, not a
Dalton boy. Our surmise proved correct. We landed in New
Orleans safe and sound. We rented a quiet little room
on Dryat Street and looked around to make ready for
our trip to South America. We decided not to make
a wild run for a boat, as that might attract attention,
so determined to rest for a few days and enjoy

(25:16):
a little vacation. We had plenty of money and for
the first time in months, we permitted the mantle of
care to drop from our shoulders. However, I can say
this much for Detective Smith. He was not like a
poor boob detective who came to my house in Tulsa,
Oklahoma after my release from prison and said, Emmett, I
have been told where you boys had a lot of

(25:36):
money buried. I have made several searches for it, but
have never found it. Now, if you will tell me
where it is buried, I will go get it and
give you half of it. I thought once of sending
him out in search of Sherlock Holmes to help him out,
but then thought I would not disturb his dream of riches.
But even in New Orleans, the search for the Daltons
had made its way here, and there we would catch

(25:56):
snatches of conversation with which we were linked. We met
friends who were discussing the last time they had seen us,
and heard intimate stories of our life for the first time,
like the story of my fight with the peppery little
Southerner years before I was born. These incidents did not
cause as much fun for us as did the items
we saw in the newspapers telling of posses that were

(26:19):
supposed to have us surrounded near Tulsa, Oklahoma or other places.
This gave us a greater sense of security, as we
knew then that none of the other boys had dropped
a hint that we had left the country, so we
knew the boats would not be watched. We had gone
to the steamship office and had arranged for our passage
and started to pay for the tickets when I remembered

(26:41):
that I had left my money belt in the room.
We hurried down the street toward our room. Just at
the door, a street urchin selling papers came up and
pressed one forward. I gave him the money and followed
Bob into the room. The belt was there, just where
I had left it. Bob was scolding me for my carelessness,
and to change the subject, I threw the paper to him.

(27:03):
Look there and see where we are today, I said.
Look at that, he said, pointing to a small item.
The heading was fairly branded into my brain. It read
banned it Grat Dalton convicted. It was what we had
been expecting to hear at any time, knowing the extraordinary
efforts the Express Company were putting forth to convict Grat.

(27:25):
Sitting on our rooming house ports That night we heard
some of the rumors discussing how much money the New
Orleans Mint was putting out, and as such conversations usually
run it was away up in the millions. I noticed
Bob sitting there, apparently reading a newspaper, but taking in
every word they were saying. That night in our room,

(27:45):
Bob said, don't you know we might be able to
rob that mint and get away with it. The next morning,
after breakfast, I said, let's go out and visit the mint.
Getting on a street car, we rode out to the mint,
got off, walked up to the door, where a kindly
faced old gentleman met us and said do you wish
to go through, to which I answered yes. Inviting us in,

(28:08):
he stepped up to a desk and said register here please.
Stepping back a step or two slowly, I remarked to Bob,
you register first, mister Williams. How that name ever came
into my mind so quickly, I do not know. But
Bob stepped up to the register, picked up the pen,
and in a bold hand wrote George Williams. I followed,

(28:30):
but the name I wrote I have forgotten. Then the
old gentleman started through with us. There was bullion here
and there, all locked in vaults. And last he took
us into a room where he proudly informed us they
were filling an order for eighty thousand dollars in dimes
for one of the sub treasuries. Handing our guide a cigar,

(28:50):
we shook hands with him and started back to town.
On the road back to town, Bob remarked, what a
picnic that would be, But not a damn piece of
paper money in sight. So ended our unlawful designs on
the New Orleans Mint. Then the next day came a
brief telegraphic account of the fact that Grat had been
convicted as accessory to the Alila, California train robbery, and

(29:13):
that Bill, our brother, had been acquitted at his preliminary hearing. Well,
I guess we will have to go back, said Bob angrily.
No South America for us. Well, maybe it would be
too hot there, I said, Well, it's going to be
hot as hell for some people right here in these
United States. Pack up, we go back tonight. I guess

(29:36):
they don't want us to reform. All the ideas of
reforming of a life spent on a cattle ranch, rich
and respected, faded away once more, the yellow film of
revenge was across our eyes. Chapter twelve, Fate takes a

(29:57):
hand once more. I donned my farmer uniform, which I
had discarded for a business suit. While in New Orleans.
The things we had packed for South America were all
ready but for another destination. But the next day, on
the street, I got another newspaper, this time containing different news.
It was that Grat had broken jail the night following

(30:19):
his conviction and had taken the rest of the prisoners
with him, and that all had apparently vanished into space.
Thank God, said Bob. We'll go back, get Grat and
maybe give that Express company something else to remember, and
then we will get away for good and take him
with us. Let's go home. We kept under cover for

(30:40):
a couple of days, taking a room, and finally left town,
going back to Oklahoma. This time we got away safely,
and once more were back in the saddle. Cautiously, we
worked our way back to our home. The night we
rode up to the house at Kingfisher. The front door
was open, and in the light from the lamp, I
could see Mother walking about the room getting supper. Ready.

(31:04):
I was ahead of Bob, and as my form darkened
the doorway, she turned. There was just one word as
she opened her arms and I sprang into their warm embrace.
My boys was all she said. But in that one word,
the inflection of the voice told the story of the
nights and days of suffering of torture while her children

(31:24):
were outside battling the law. Then it was Bob and
my brother took my place. Not a word of censure,
not a word of blame, But no sermon of the
most eloquent of divines could have contained half the advice
that those two words from our mother. Did Have you
boys come home? Was the first question we were asked.

(31:45):
This was followed by a volley from us. Where was Grat?
The marshals? Where were they? Had any one been looking
for us? And the like? Yes, the marshals had been
there recently. They did not think we had left the
country and were on the watch for Grat as well
as for us. Bob and I held a hasty conference.
We would stay in the vicinity, get into communication with

(32:08):
some of the old gang and also Grat. Then we
would try one or two tricks, and if successful, would
leave the country for good well, goodbye, mother, said Bob,
after we had finished supper. Tell Grat he can find
us about sixty miles south of here at Jim Riley's.
Tell him to ride out after us. Goodbye Mother. A

(32:29):
quick embrace, and we had gone. We never had been
a very demonstrative family, and the tears that welled up
in mother's eyes spoke volumes to me that she was
breaking her heart. I wish you boys would stay home
and be good, she whispered in my ear as I
gave her a big hearty hug. Won't you well, mother,

(32:50):
We will all be good pretty soon, I said, riding away,
we both turned in our saddles and waved back. The
little mother was standing in the doorway, waving toward us,
though I doubt if she saw us through her tears
and the awful lightning, thunder and rainstorm that had just
come up. That was the last sight she had of
Bob alive, and the last time she saw me until

(33:13):
she came to cheer me in my cell as I
lay fighting with death, which was trying to claim me
for its own. If we were fighters, we came of
a fighting stock. Never was a braver, better, truer or
staunch little mother than that white haired little woman who
is now in Kingfisher, proud of the fact that the

(33:33):
last stain has been wiped out. Stopping at Wagner as
we came back from the South, Bob saw Miss Moore
for a few minutes and told her of his intentions,
to which she said, well, I will see what I
can find out about the money shipment over this road
and meet you at Woodward next week. Miss Moore was
a valuable ally. She was a girl of unusual tact

(33:55):
and quick wit, and was a loyal member of our band.
Riding up and down on the railroad from Parsons, Kansas
to Denison, Texas, she was constantly on the alert for
bits of Riding up and down on the railroad from Parsons,
Kansas to Denison, Texas, she was constantly on the alert

(34:17):
for bits of information which might prove of value to us.
She being a telegraph operator, she frequently overheard messages in
the depots telling of money shipments. She was equipped with
an excellent education and frequently interviewed officials of the railroads.
Posing as a magazine writer gathering information for articles on

(34:38):
the Oklahoma country. Frequently she was regaled with stories of
the Daltons and the efforts being made to capture them. Finally,
Miss Moore received word that a large sum of money
was to be shipped over the Kadi Road in September.
She was at Wagoner then, while we were camped at
Riley's Ranch two hundred and fifty miles away, Lucky Little

(35:00):
Woman saddled her horse, which Bob had given her, and
started on a hazardous cross country ride to bring us
the information. Riding mostly by night through a country infested
by Indians and outlaws, she finally arrived at our camp
with the news Chapter thirteen, the Lelyietta train robbery. As usual,

(35:25):
the boys kept as much out of sight as possible.
Once in a while one of them went for provisions
or news, but one day was like another and the
monotony began to wear them down. The boys were all
yearning for action, and looking backward, I think it was
really the first time they ever went into a lawless
thing with something akin to pleasure. There was more excitement

(35:48):
in the preparation than in the deed itself. Going over
the ground carefully, Bob picked Lelyietta on the MK and
T four miles north of wagoner as a point of advantage. Again,
Bob was the leader. With him were George Newcomb, Charles Pierce,
Bill Doolan, Dick Broadwell, and Bill Powers. Bob had selected

(36:09):
Bill Doolan to go with him on the engine. Doolan's
education was nil, but his bravery was never questioned. All
he knew was fight. He was the kind of man
Bob needed along, but he had to be kept in
restraint or his quick temper was liable to get all
of them in trouble at any moment. As usual, they
waited for the train at the station. As the train stopped,

(36:32):
the boys came out of their hiding place and took
posts close to the engine, but still in the shadows.
As it pulled out, they boarded the cab. Revolvers pointed
at the crew were stronger arguments than words. I remember
Bob telling me that as his head came up to
the cab window, the fireman yelled out the Dalton's. So

(36:52):
it was always the Daltons were blamed, even before anyone
knew whether they really were the ones at the bottom
or not. That Form had never seen them, and had
he known them personally, he had not had time to
recognize Bob, But it was a robbery and the Daltons
were to blame. But this time he was right. There
was some delay in getting the messenger to open the door.

(37:15):
It was only when Powers sent a couple of shots
into the door that he decided to open rather than
take a chance with dynamite, which was a bluff. But
after that short delay, the work was quick and fast,
and Doolan came out of the express car carrying a
meal sack half full of money, which, to their great
surprise and disgust, proved to be all silver. Bob said,

(37:38):
here is where he thought they had enough to quit
for life. A few of the more venturesome from the
train gathered into a little crowd near the baggage car
and were taking pot shots in their direction. Watch me
chase them. They make me tired, muttered Bill Powers. Stick
where you are ordered, said Bob. But Powers, with the
chance for a little excitement in view, was not to

(38:00):
be denied. Spurring his horse and whirling around with a
wild whoop, he rode away straight back at the train,
shooting as he went. Bob said, I remembered distinctly the
antics of one stout passenger upon whom the glare of
the light from the depot fell as powers rode toward
the train, shouting and shooting. This passenger became panic stricken.

(38:23):
He dropped his twenty two caliber revolver, which he had
pumped once in our general direction, and scrambled for the
steps of the first coach. The colored porter had the
same general idea about the same time. They both struck
the steps together. There was not room enough for two,
and the fat man fell backward to the ground. Just
then the train began to move, and I could see

(38:45):
him crawling on his hands and knees in the same
direction the car was going, as though he was trying
to race the car. However, he got to his feet
and managed to swing aboard the last car as it passed.
He was angrily shaking his fist at us as the
train was swallowed up by the night. I would like
to hear that man's version of that hold up and

(39:05):
the part he played in it. When it came time
to divvy up, they had brought away about nine four
hundred dollars, all in dollars and halves. Getting back to
camp at Riley's, Bob asked me how much have we
all together? I counted out the money in my belt
and reported something over seven thousand dollars. Then we are through,
said Bob quietly. Through. What in the devil's the matter

(39:29):
with you? Broke in powers? Why I haven't started yet?
I don't care whether you ever start or not, replied Bob.
You can't keep this up and get away with it always.
We are going to slip some time, Ah, hell, said Broadwell,
nothing like it. Why that bunch didn't have nerve enough
to fight a sick cat. Well, it don't make any
difference to me what you boys think I'm saying. I'm through,

(39:52):
said Bob firmly. I was listening to the conversation quietly
when Bob's gaze turned to me and I could see
a flash of a show across it. I don't give
a whoop in hell for all the deputies they send
after me, they never will get me alive to stick
behind any bars. And I'm not going to let Emmett
get behind any while I am alive either. Now take

(40:13):
this just as it lies. We are through. You fellows,
have your wad. I helped you get it. I don't
care what you do with it. You can gamble blow
it in any way, but remember that we are through
from now on. Here's where I call it quits. The
conversation kept up like that for several hours as we
sat in front of the dugout. Then getting on our horses,

(40:35):
we all rode off toward Woodward. The others wanted to
keep it up. Then they wanted to know what Bob's
plans were. He simply repeated his first conclusions, and as
to his plans, he was absolutely silent. It was all
a surprise to me. As I rode along in silence.
About the time dawn was breaking, I noticed we were
near a ranch. So long, boys, I will let you

(40:58):
hear from me later on. Good luck was Bob's shout
as he turned his horse around and said, come on,
Emmett and we were lost to sight. We rode away,
leaving the others staring after us. Not until then did
Bob tell me his plan. Enjoy ad free listening at

(41:22):
the Safehouse. Dubba Dubbadubba dot Patreon dot com, slash True
Crime Historian, Chapter fourteen. We decide to quit. We are
really through, he said. We can't beat this game forever.

(41:43):
I guess we have taken enough out of the Express
Company I feel that grat will get out. All right.
There ought to be some justice in this old world,
and maybe we ought to have stuck and fought it
out ourselves, but we didn't. And here we are now.
We are going to beat it down South and then
us for South America. We are going to go into

(42:04):
the cattle business there as we have a good stake
and we will be safe. They can't bring us back
for what we have done, and they can't punish us
for what we didn't do. What do you say, are
you through? Well? See here, Bob? I wavered. See nothing
came the quick answer. I said, we are through and

(42:25):
that's all there is to it. Come along. Then in
a flash, I caught Bob's viewpoint. It was the first
time I had stopped to consider the peril of our situation,
except during the fleeting moment or two of danger. But
I realized, as he had done, that it was a
game we could not hope to beat at all times.

(42:47):
In the darkness of that little room in the California
ranch house, the Dalton Boys had started out in the
darkness of the plains. They had made their second move
in revenge for what they felt was persecution. Then again
in the darkness, again on the plains. Bob and I
shook hands solemnly, and we felt then, honestly, that the

(43:09):
Dalton Gang was a thing of the past. But we
had reckoned without things beyond our control. We had forgotten
the power of a rapacious corporation, the Express Company. We
had forgotten for a second the ties of blood that
bound us with that man who had been in the
California jail. We scoffed at the possibility that justice, the

(43:31):
goddess with the cloth about her eyes, could be so
blind as to take an innocent man and banish him
without cause. These things were too gloomy for consideration. We
bucked the game. We had faced danger, first on the
side of the law, and then against the law. Our
profits were larger now as enemies to law than as

(43:52):
its defenders. But back of it all was that little
something which pointed out the futility of forever fighting against
those with which law and convention surrounded themselves. But as
far as we knew, the Dalton Gang was through, and
so we rode on, arriving close to Woodward. We lay

(44:13):
in the brush all that day close to town, and
that night rode into town where Bob saw Miss Moore.
She quickly told him of Grat's predicament in California and
that he needed money. Bob gave her some money and
told her to take it to Grat and be back
in thirty days, which she did. Then Bob decided to
postpone our South American trip. I remember one day we

(44:37):
were riding through the Osage Hills and had stopped at
the head of a steep canyon where there were some
large protruding rocks in a fine spring. This place had
been misnamed by the local fiction circulator's Dalton Cave. I
presume because a man could walk back between the rocks
fifteen or twenty feet along. In the afternoon, about three o'clock,

(44:59):
Bob sitting out in front on a rock. He looked
up and saw six men riding along and one on
the ground stooped over as if he was trailing something.
Lifting his field glasses to his eyes, he counted five
farmers on horses, one black man riding a white mule
with a halter, and an Indian on the ground trailing.

(45:20):
They were armed with muskets, small revolvers, and shotguns. After
watching them a few minutes, he discovered they were riding
off in another direction, so we gave them no thought.
About an hour later we heard an awful racket. Shots
began to whistle all around. Small tree limbs began to fall,
and every once in a while some voice would ring out.

(45:43):
Come out and there, dad, gum you, we've got you.
They had sneaked up to within about one hundred yards
of us and opened fire without saying a word. Jumping
behind rocks, we returned their fire and soon had them
on the retreat, with one of their party slightly wounded.
Walking around the to the edge of the brush, we
looked out across a little prairie opening and saw all

(46:05):
of them on a dead run, the black man on
the white mule leading the whole bunch by about thirty yards,
with the Indian a close second. They had been looking
for cattle thieves and had gotten on the wrong track.
Chapter fifteen, grat Dalton's trouble in California. After Detective Smith

(46:29):
had failed to catch Bob and McIlhaney, he went back
and arrested Bill for aiding them to escape. Bill employed W. C.
Brackenridge of Merced to defend him, and grat At the
preliminary Bill was turned loose. About six months later, Grat
went to trial before a judge who had stepped from
the office of Justice of the Peace into that of

(46:50):
district Judge. Bill had given Brackenridge one thousand dollars to
defend Grat. Grat's trial, if you could call it such,
from a legal point of view, was the most noted
farce ever perpetrated on an innocent man. Brackenridge, he learned afterwards,
was and had been for years, the local attorney for
the Southern Pacific Railroad Company, and railroad companies do not

(47:13):
employ bad lawyers. All through the trial, Brackenridge sat and
never cross question to witness for the prosecution, and every
time Gratt would ask him to ask some witness a question,
he would say, just wait, we have them just where
we want them. When they are through, we will move
to dismiss, which the court will have to grant. Grat,

(47:35):
seeing how things were going, made arrangements through some of
the other prisoners with their friends on the outside to
smuggle him in some saws, which they did and with
which he cut the jail bars. Brackenridge becoming suspicious that
he would not succeed in landing Grat in prison, went
to him one day and said, now, Grat, if you

(47:55):
have anything to break jail with, you had better let
me have it, and I will return it to you
after the trial if they convict you. But Grat was
not as big a fool as Brackenridge thought he was.
He politely told Brackenridge that he had nothing and would
not know how to use it if he had. As
badly as Grat had been defended by Brackenridge, bets were
freely offered at five to one by those who had

(48:17):
heard the witnesses for the defense that Grat would be acquitted.
The judge would overrule every motion Grat's attorney made, and
would frequently insinuate before the jury as to Grat's guilt
and his rulings. After the jury, which was composed wholly
of the judge's best friends, had wrangled over the case
for two or three days, they brought in a verdict

(48:39):
of guilty. About four o'clock in the afternoon, after the
sheriff had taken Grat back to jail. This fiendish detective
Smith came around and, looking through the bars, said to Grat,
I told you I would land you. Grat said, that's
all right, it won't do you any good. I will
beat the case. Yet. In the meantime, Bill, my brother,

(49:02):
knowing what was coming off, hid a winchester and a
hundred rounds of cartridges across from the jail and some weeds.
About nine o'clock that night, the prisoners were all on
their tiptoes waiting to see what Grat was going to do.
He made them all take off their shoes, and walking
up to the two bars he had cut, and closed

(49:22):
up the cuts with soap and lamp black. He jerked
them out. He took the lead, and one by one
all slipped out, walking slowly across the street to where
Bill told him the winchester was. He picked it up,
already full of cartridges and put the rest in his pocket.
As he told me later, that was the time he
would have liked to have seen Smith, the detective. All

(49:45):
four of them walked down to a little church where
they selected a big gray team, got in the buggy
and drove west towards King's River about fifteen miles about
four miles west of Visalia, at a little town named Goshen,
all but Grat caught a freight train. Grat drove on
out ten miles to the ranch of a supposed friend

(50:05):
by the name of Middleton. There he gave the team
to Middleton and had him drive it to Tularry, ten
miles south of Visalia, and tie it to a hitch
rack on the main line of the Southern Pacific. The
next morning, the jail delivery was discovered, the team was gone,
and about noon the next day was found at Tularry.

(50:25):
Then the wise detective Smith fairly burned up the wires,
guessing the boys had driven to Tularry and taken a train.
Middleton came back from where he had tied the team,
and a few days afterwards he and Grat rode up
in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, about ten
miles east of a town named Sanger. Here they pitched
their camp, intending to await a favorable opportunity for Grat

(50:49):
to get out of the country. As there was nothing
against Middleton, he agreed to act as sort of messenger
for Grat. The Railroad Express Company in Tularry County had
offered a large reward for Grat. One day, Middleton went
to Sanger and bought some provisions and cartridges, and while
there wrote the Sheriff of Tularry to meet him at

(51:09):
Sanger four days later and he would tell him where
Grat was. In the meantime, a large stray greyhound had
come to camp and made himself at home, following Grat
wherever he went. On the appointed time, Middleton made an
excuse to go to Sanger for some tobacco. Grat had
become suspicious of Middleton's actions and never laid his winchester down.

(51:31):
In fact, he, as all men do when scouting, slept
with his clothes on and his gun in his hand.
About four o'clock that evening, Grat was sitting in front
of his little tent, with his Winchester across his lap
and the greyhound lying down by his feet. Every once
in a while the greyhound would look up at Grat
and utter a little wine, then look off out in

(51:53):
the brush and growl. Grat, not thinking it possible for
anyone to get up close to him without him seeing
or hearing them, paid no attention to the dog. Finally,
he got up and moved back close to the ravine
bank and said to the dog, catch him. The dog barking,
made two or three bounds towards the brush, and about
at that time the heads of six men shot up

(52:14):
on three sides of Grat's tent from behind trees and banks,
and called out, throw up your hands, all shooting at
the same time and riddling his tent, but not touching him. Instantly,
Grat brought his winchester into play, firing three or four
shots at the one behind the tree, and jumping over
the bank. Being cut off from his horse, Grat ran

(52:35):
around a little hill down towards where a farmer was plowing,
the greyhound following him all the time. Just as he
came round the hill, he looked down a ravine, and there,
about three hundred yards off he saw six men, the
sheriffs and deputies, driving off and leading his horse behind.
Once more, he raised his winchester and opened fire on them,

(52:56):
knocking a few spokes out of the wheels of their carriage,
putting the whipped to their team. The brave sheriffs ran
into the brush, never to bother Grat again. Trader Middleton's
visions of a large reward in a lifetime position with
the Express Company had vanished. This is as it should
be with all such traders. Making his way down to

(53:17):
where the farmer was plowing, Grat took the best horse
the farmer had, which he sent back later, and started
over to Judge Gray's ranch, about fifteen miles from hercet.
Judge Gray, a wealthy rancher, was an old friend of
the boys and a brother in law of W. C. Brackenridge,
Grat's attorney. Grat stayed about two weeks in a secluded

(53:38):
room at Gray's ranch, fed every day by the Chinese cook,
who became very much attached to him. One day, Grat
said to the chinaman John, if any strangers come here
looking for me, you tell them you cannot understand English.
The cook said me, savvy, you all same have blinder.

(54:00):
Very few days, Judge Gray would drive to town to
get the news for Grat. Then, finally, the last day
Grat was at the ranch, the judge came back from
town and told Grat he had received a letter that
Brackenridge had gone to Frisco, got on a big drunk
and died. It was rumored that he received five thousand
dollars for allowing Grat to be convicted. However it may

(54:23):
have been it seems as if a ministering angel had
been hovering over an innocent man to help him escape
and punish those who helped contribute to his unfortunate position.
By this time, Grat had decided to try and make
his way back to Oklahoma and join us. The night
Grat left Judge Gray's ranch, the judge took him out

(54:43):
to the barn and gave him his best saddle horse
and told him to come back any time he needed another. Grat,
leaving his greyhound in safe keeping, got on his horse
and started on his almost record breaking ride. On one horse,
he made the distance from Merced, California to Kingfisher, Oklahoma,
in one hundred and four days. Leaving Judge Gray's ranch,

(55:05):
he rode along the edge of the foothills to Bakersfield, California,
then on to Los Angeles, then over to Arizona, New Mexico, Panhandle, Texas,
and into Oklahoma. There he met us, and today there
in the cemetery at Coffeeville, Kansas, is a little mound
of earth which stands as a monument to the cold

(55:26):
blooded and ruthless greed of a heartless corporation and its hirelings.
The grave of Grat Dalton. If we are conscious in
the next life of what happens in this I want
to be there when my brother Grat meets Detective Smith.
If it is heaven, I am sure it will not
be that long