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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Author’s Note
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Part Two
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Part Three
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Epilogue
Novels by Matt Braun
Praise for Matt Braun and Outlaw Kingdom
Copyright
To Kim and Tracey Jesseca and Eric Who give the world special meaning and, as always, to Bettiane
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Outlaw Kingdom is based on a true story. Bill Tilghman was the prototype for the mythical gunfighter-marshal of Old West legend. Yet there was nothing mythical about Tilghman, or his exploits as a lawman on the frontier. He was the real thing.
Bill Tilghman’s life on the plains spanned a time from the buffalo hunters to the oil boomtowns. His career as a lawman encompassed fifty years, ending in 1924 when he was the age of seventy. During successive eras, he served as deputy sheriff, town marshal, deputy U.S. marshal, sheriff, and chief of police. None of the lawmen fabled in Western myth—including Wild Bill Hickok, Bat Masterson, and Wyatt Earp—came close to matching his record. He was without equal among men who wore a badge.
Outlaw Kingdom deals with one era in the lifetime of Bill Tilghman. The great Land Rush of 1889 opened parts of Indian Territory to settlement, and resulted in the creation of Oklahoma Territory. Those early days of settlement gave rise to outlaw gangs who robbed and pillaged on a scale unmatched in the annals of crime. Oklahoma Territory became a battleground where deputy U.S. marshals fought a bloody and vicious war against marauding gangs. In a literal sense, the land became a killing ground.
During the era of the outlaw gangs, Bill Tilghman performed valiant service as a deputy U.S. marshal. In telling his story, fact is presented in the form of fiction, and certain license is taken with time, dates, and events. Yet there is underlying truth to the daring and courage of a man whose exploits were the stuff of legend. His record as a lawman needs no exaggeration, and his dedication to taming a raw frontier stands in a class all its own. His days on the killing ground of Oklahoma Territory were, in a very real sense, larger than life.
William Matthew Tilghman was the last of a breed. To friend and foe alike, he was known simply as Bill Tilghman, and the name alone struck fear in those who lived by the gun. Determined and deadly, sworn to uphold the law, he was a man of valor.
PART ONE
CHAPTER 1
A sea of campfires spread endlessly across the plains. Forty thousand people camping under a star-studded sky waited for the Oklahoma Land Rush.
Tilghman stood with his hands jammed in the pockets of his mackinaw. Though a brisk wind drifted down from the north, his coat was unbuttoned, and his gaze swept an inky darkness dotted with tongues of flame. His camp was located near the train tracks, and as far as the eye could see, the shadows of men were cast against the glow from thousands of campfires. Like him, they stared southward, awaiting the break of dawn.
“What’re you thinking about, Bill?”
Tilghman turned to face Fred Sutton. Old friends, they were partners in certain ventures revolving around the land rush. Sutton had operated a saloon and gambling establishment in Dodge City, where Tilghman had served as town marshal.
“Way it appears,” Tilghman said, “lots of folks are gonna get the short end. I calculate more people”—he motioned toward the blinking campfires—“than there are homesteads.”
Sutton nodded, looking out over the mass of humanity. He was a man of medium height, square-faced and clean-shaven, a greatcoat thrown over his shoulders. He held his hands out to the warmth of the fire.
“Same old story,” he said with a wry smile. “Offer something for nothing and the world beats a path to your door. Simple human nature.”
“No argument there,” Tilghman agreed. “Everybody and his dog turned out for this one.”
Their camp was on the line separating the Cherokee Outlet from the Unassigned Lands. Tomorrow, for the first time, land would be opened to settlement in Indian Territory. By government decree, a man could claim one hundred sixty acres for a nominal filing fee. The lodestone of free land had drawn eager homesteaders from coast to coast.
Tilghman wagged his head. “Figures to be devil take the hindmost. Ought to be a helluva race.”
At root was the scarcity of good farmland. The flood of settlers pouring west had already claimed the choice homestead lands; the clamor to open Indian Territory to settlement had swelled to a public outcry as western migration intensified. The primary goal of this land-hungry horde was known as the Unassigned Lands.
Embracing some two million acres of well-watered, fertile plains, it was land that had been ceded by the Creeks and Seminoles, as a home for tribes yet to be resettled. But the government eventually announced that it had no intention of locating Indians on these lands. The howls of white settlers then rose to a fever pitch, and their demands now included the Cherokee Outlet, which abutted the northern border of the Unassigned Lands.
The settlers were backed by several influential factions, all of whom had a vested interest in the western expansion. Already the Santa Fe and other railroads had crossed through Indian Territory, and competing lines had no intention of being left behind. Pressure mounted in Washington for a solution, equitable or otherwise, to the problem.
Opposed to settlement were the Five Civilized Tribes, who occupied the eastern half of Indian Territory, and a diverse group of religious organizations. The churches and
