The men on horseback were reasonably certain they could outdistance the trains in the short run. But those in wagons and buckboards (by far the greater number) knew they would arrive too late for a chance at the most desirable claims. Tempers flared, fistfights broke out, and as the minutes ticked away fully fifty thousand people jostled and shoved for a better spot along the starting line.
On the knoll, the cavalry officer stared intently at his pocket watch. As the hands of the watch merged, precisely at high noon, he dropped an upraised arm. The trooper beside him put the bugle to his mouth and blew a single piercing blast. On signal, the cavalrymen below discharged their carbines into the air, but the gunfire was smothered beneath a thunderous human roar. The troopers scattered to avoid the onrushing stampede.
Horses reared and whips cracked, men dug savagely with their spurs, and in a sudden dust-choked wedge, a wave of humanity surged across the starting line. At first it seemed a mad scramble, as the earth trembled and trains gained headway. But within moments the race was decided for choice claims to the immediate south of the border.
Out of the blinding dust cloud emerged the swiftest horses, spurred into a wild-eyed gallop. Behind them, strung out and gaining speed, came the trains. Scattered across the countryside, quickly losing ground, wagons and buckboards, and even one solitary soul on a high-wheeled bicycle, brought up the rear. America’s first great land rush was under way at last.
From the lead train, Tilghman watched as the horsemen broke clear and sped off into the distance. Not far away he saw two wagons collide and upend, spilling people and household goods across the prairie. He and Sutton exchanged an amused look as the adventurous soul on the bicycle quickly fell behind, obscured in a whirling cloud of dust. Then, as the train gathered speed, smoke and soot from the engine drifted through the open window. They sat back in their seats.
“Judas Priest!” Sutton hooted. “Never saw anything that could hold a candle to that. We could’ve sold tickets!”
Tilghman smiled. “Hell, that’s just the start. The real fun’s yet to come”—he nodded out the window—“when they butt heads with the Sooners.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. There’s liable to be some knock-down-drag-out brawls before this day’s over.”
“Fisticuffs would be the least of it, Fred. There’s people out there willing to kill for a choice piece of land.”
Sutton looked somber. “You think we’ll run into trouble at Guthrie?”
“All depends,” Tilghman allowed. “We’ll see if anybody’s on the ground when we get there. Or leastways, the piece of ground we want.”
Every townsite claimant was entitled to stake out two lots. Between them, Tilghman and Sutton planned to stake claim to four lots. One of those, the choice lot, would be devoted to their joint enterprise. They intended to open the first sports-betting emporium in Oklahoma Territory.
In recent years, a cottage industry had sprung up around sports betting. Horse races, such as the Kentucky Derby, and championship prize fights had become national in scope with the advent of the telegraph. The results, transmitted from coast to coast by wire, enabled bettors to wager on a multitude of sports events. Sutton, along with other saloonkeepers in Dodge City, had provided an informal service for his customers. In Guthrie, he and Tilghman meant to corner the market with an across-the-board sports book. They envisioned it as becoming a veritable money tree.
“Mr. Tilghman?”
A man of distinguished bearing stood in the aisle beside their seats. He was perhaps fifty, with a mane of silver hair, and dressed in finely tailored clothes. He smiled pleasantly.
“William Tilghman?” he inquired. “Formerly the marshal of Dodge City?”
“Guilty on all counts,” Tilghman said, climbing to his feet. “What can I do for you?”
“Allow me to introduce myself. Colonel Daniel F. Dyer, formerly adjutant to General Sherman and late of Kansas City. I dabble in real estate and other ventures.”
Tilghman accepted his handshake. “You aim to settle in Guthrie, Colonel?”
“Indeed,” Dyer affirmed. “A burgeoning new land with unlimited opportunity for investment. Of course, the magnitude of such opportunity attracts the undesirable element as well.”
“Likely draw them like flies to honey.”
“Mr. Tilghman, I am a man of some wealth and political influence. I intend to play an instrumental role in making Guthrie the capital of Oklahoma Territory. I would like to enlist your aid in furthering that goal.”
Tilghman appeared puzzled. “Politics aren’t my game, Colonel.”
“Quite so,” Dyer agreed. “Yet you are a law officer of the first order, Mr. Tilghman. And Guthrie, as the territorial capital, must set an example for law and order.”
“Sounds like you’re offering me a job.”
“All in good time, when we have established a city government. But, yes, Mr. Tilghman, I would be honored to propose your name for chief of police.”
“Sorry,” Tilghman said amiably. “I quit law work when I left Dodge. Business is my game now.”
“Is it?” Dyer said with a dubious expression. “Last night, I observed your rout of those two unsavory characters. From all appearances, you’ve hardly lost your taste for law enforcement.”
“Chalk it up to old habits, Colonel. I’ll have to wean myself off that one.”
“No need for a hasty decision, Mr. Tilghman. Think it over at your leisure. We’ll talk again.”
Tilghman grinned. “Talk won’t change things, Colonel. I’ve got other irons in the fire.”
“Nonetheless, you are admirably suited to the law, Mr. Tilghman. Give it some thought and we’ll talk in Guthrie.”
Dyer strolled off down the aisle. Tilghman resumed his seat and traded a look with Sutton. After a quick glance over his shoulder, Sutton shook his head.
“There’s a gent not accustomed to taking ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Guess he’ll just have to learn. Like I told him, I’m done with law work.”
Sutton silently wondered if that were the case. Some habits were harder to break than others.
* * *
Shortly before two that afternoon, Tilghman and Sutton stepped off the
