Doolin said with a sarcastic smile, “you wouldn’t’ve brought me back. Tilghman’s likely the only man that could’ve done it.”

“You sorry sonovabitch. I’d have—”

“Enough of that,” Nix broke in. “Mr. Doolin, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last. I think you can rest assured of a swift and speedy trial.”

“Got a rope handy, have you?”

“All in good time,” Nix said jovially. “But first, we have to get you through that crowd. Heck, lead the way.”

Thomas went out the door. He was followed by Nix and Doolin, with Tilghman acting as rear guard. As they came down the steps, the mob around the depot spotted Doolin and went wild with a renewed burst of excitement. Madsen and the other deputies formed a phalanx to the front, their Winchesters held at port arms. They moved forward as the chant of the crowd raised to a thunderous pitch.

The lawmen wedged a path through the massed throngs. Doolin was in the middle, protected on all sides, with people screaming and shouting and lunging forward for the chance to touch him. Slowly, often a step at a time, they shouldered their way across the platform and past the depot. On the street, other deputies waited with a buggy and several horses. Doolin was quickly loaded onto the buggy, along with Nix and Tilghman. Thomas swung aboard a horse and motioned for the deputies to mount. They formed a shield around the buggy.

On the way uptown, the crowd surged along, steadily growing larger. Tilghman gradually realized that Thomas was headed for the marshal’s office rather than the jailhouse. He turned to question Nix, who was seated on the opposite side of Doolin. But the noise from the mob was too great to be heard, and he let it go. Some minutes later the driver brought the buggy to a halt outside the Herriott Building. Their mounted escort swung around to block the swarms of onlookers.

Tilghman hustled Doolin from the buggy. Thomas and Madsen dismounted, hurrying forward with Nix, and followed them inside. Upstairs, with Tilghman guiding the prisoner, they proceeded along the hallway to Nix’s office. When they entered, a pack of reporters, with cameras mounted on tripods, was ganged around the desk. Tilghman stopped just inside the door.

“What’s all this?” he said, looking at Nix. “You didn’t tell me anything about reporters.”

“Too crowded at the depot,” Nix said. “The gentlemen of the press want to interview you and Doolin.”

Tilghman stifled a response. There was nothing to be gained in airing their differences before reporters. Nix clearly intended to reap a harvest of newsprint, and an obstinate deputy marshal would merely result in bigger headlines. Tilghman and Doolin were quickly positioned in front of the desk, facing the cameras. Nix hovered about like a stage manager orchestrating a theatrical production.

“Mr. Doolin!” one of the reporters shouted as flash pans fired in rapid succession. “After all this time, how did you come to be captured?”

Doolin seemed to bask in the attention. “I practically gave myself up,” he said in a jocular tone. “High time I had a chance to prove my innocence.”

“How can you prove your innocence?” another reporter demanded loudly. “There are dozens of witnesses to the robberies and murders committed by you and your Wild Bunch.”

“Mistaken identity,” Doolin said with a broad smile. “Nobody can eyewitness me for anything. I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

That drew an appreciative laugh from the reporters. One of them prompted him further. “Are you saying you were never the leader of the Wild Bunch?”

Doolin spread his manacled hands. “Boys, I wouldn’t know the Wild Bunch from a hole in the ground. I’m just a simple cowhand.”

“Will you plead not guilty at your trial?”

“Why, being innocent and all, what else could I do?”

“Deputy Tilghman!” the first reporter cut in. “How do you feel about Mr. Doolin pleading not guilty?”

“That’s his right,” Tilghman said levelly. “A jury will decide his guilt or innocence.”

“Do you think he’ll get off?”

“What I think doesn’t matter. He’ll have his day in court like anybody else.”

“How’d you capture him?” a reporter outshouted the others. “Where did you find him?”

“Eureka Springs, Arkansas,” Tilghman replied. “I tracked him to a hotel there.”

“What was he doing in Eureka Springs?”

“Getting ready to take a bath,” Tilghman said with a slow smile. “I believe he felt in need of cleansing.”

“Do you favor hanging over life in prison?”

Nix stepped on stage, sensing an opportune moment. “Gentlemen,” he said, motioning for silence. “You may quote me as saying Bill Doolin will get a swift and impartial trial. All the evidence will be presented then, and we believe a jury will render the proper verdict.”

The door opened and Governor William Renfrow stepped into the room with one of his aides. Everyone fell silent as the governor strode forward, nodding amiably to the reporters. Nix rapidly plucked Doolin off stage, and the aide just as quickly positioned the governor beside Tilghman. The reporters waited expectantly.

“Gentlemen,” the governor said in a sonorous voice, “I would first like to commend U.S. Marshal Nix and his intrepid force of deputies for bringing law and order to Oklahoma Territory. None but the brave would have undertaken such a monumental task.”

The reporters jotted furiously in their notepads. Governor Renfrow turned to Tilghman. “The bravest of the brave stands beside me here today. For apprehending Bill Doolin,” he paused, took a bank check from his suit pocket, “I have the distinct pleasure of presenting Deputy U.S. Marshal William Tilghman with a reward in the amount of five thousand dollars. Our heartfelt congratulations, Deputy Tilghman.”

The governor clasped Tilghman’s hand, still holding the check, and faced the cameras with a nutcracker grin. The flash pans exploded and shutters clicked, freezing an image of the moment for posterity. A moment later, with his aide clearing the way, Renfrow swept out of the room. Tilghman stood there, holding the check, having never said a word. When Nix began ushering the reporters toward the door, he understood that it was curtain time. The show was over.

Outside again,

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