A few minutes later, at the edge of town, she saw Tilghman waiting by the roadside. Her first inclination was to tell him nothing of the conversation that had taken place. But then she thought it only right that he hear everything said by the woman he’d helped.
Edith Doolin would want him to know.
CHAPTER 40
The train chuffed to a halt outside the Guthrie depot. Thomas stepped through the rear door of the last passenger coach, and stopped on the observation platform. He watched as passengers hurried off the train, and those headed north waited to board. His eyes scanned the stationhouse for any sign of reporters.
After a moment, he turned back to the coach and motioned an all-clear signal. Tilghman herded their prisoner through the door, pausing on the observation platform. Dynamite Dick Clifton was bearded, hat pulled low over his forehead, his hands manacled. A short man, wiry in build, his clothes were dirty and wrinkled, and he smelled. He looked like a vagabond in chains.
Thomas led the way to the north end of the depot. Clifton followed close behind, with Tilghman bringing up the rear. Unless someone looked closely, it would have been difficult to identify the man in the middle as a prisoner. A buggy, arranged by telegram earlier, waited for them on the street. The driver was a town deputy who had no idea as to why he was there. Clifton was assisted into the rear seat, positioned between Tilghman and Thomas. They drove toward the jailhouse.
Earlier in the week Clifton had been apprehended in Paris, Texas. The town was some twenty miles south of the Nations, and Clifton was using the alias Dan Wiley. Arrested for drunk and disorderly, he was quickly identified by local police from wanted posters. Federal marshals in the Eastern District of Texas were notified, and they in turn wired Patrick Nagle, U.S. marshal for Oklahoma Territory. A day later, on October 17, Nagle met with Tilghman and Thomas.
A murder warrant was outstanding on Clifton, and the marshals were ordered to hop a train to Texas. Before leaving, they persuaded Nagle to delay any announcement to the public or the press until Clifton was safely behind bars in Guthrie. Their argument, which Nagle accepted, was to avoid a repeat of the circus atmosphere surrounding Doolin’s capture. The following day, after presenting the murder warrant in Texas, Clifton was surrendered into their custody. Late that afternoon, they boarded a train bound for Oklahoma Territory.
On the train, Tilghman and Thomas took turns grilling the prisoner. They were seated at the rear of the coach, with empty seats around them, and no one to overhear the interrogation. Alternating shifts, one sleeping while the other asked questions, they kept Clifton awake throughout the night. At first, he denied any knowledge as to the whereabouts of the last two members of the Wild Bunch, Dick West and Red Buck Waightman. But as the night wore on, the relentless grilling left him in an exhausted state. He eventually admitted that the gang had gone their separate ways, and the last he’d heard, West and Waightman were somewhere in the Nations. Toward dawn, he was finally permitted to sleep.
Today, approaching the jailhouse, Tilghman was not encouraged. The information on West and Waightman was a month old, and they might have skipped the territory by now. His thoughts turned instead to the upcoming elections in Lincoln County, scheduled for November 4.
A week ago, at the ranch, he had been offered the job of sheriff by Judge Albert Dale and Mayor Malcolm Kinney. If he accepted, they promised their support, which virtually guaranteed he would win. After talking it over with Zoe, he decided that it was time he began thinking about their future. As sheriff, he would be home every night rather than tracking outlaws throughout the Nations. There was much to be said for that when a man was contemplating marriage, not to mention his expansion plans for the ranch. Before leaving Chandler, he had informed Dale and Kinney that he would run for sheriff.
But with the urgency of the trip to Texas, he had delayed saying anything to Patrick Nagle. After jailing Clifton, he knew he could delay no longer in breaking the news. He would have to meet with Nagle, and advise him of his decision. He planned to resign his federal commission, effective November 1.
Upon entering the jailhouse, Tilghman and Thomas surrendered their prisoner to the chief jailor. Clifton’s manacles were removed, and his arrival was duly noted in the log book. A guard then led them along a corridor to the steel door fronting the cell block. To the left of the door, a row of metal bars rose from floor to ceiling and extended to the far wall. Directly inside was a large bull pen, where prisoners were allowed freedom from their cells in the daytime. At the rear of the cell block, built one atop the other, were two tiers of barred cages, with stairs leading to the upper tier. After the evening meal, the prisoners were locked in their cells for the night.
Doolin was seated at a table in the bull pen, playing checkers with another inmate. For the most part, the prisoners were a motley collection of whiskey smugglers and bandits who preyed on backcountry stagecoaches. To them, Doolin was a celebrity, leader of the Wild Bunch and a man who had achieved national notoriety. They accorded him the respect due an outlaw whose picture had made the front page of the Police Gazette. One of them interrupted the checkers game, directing his attention to the door.
Clifton stepped into the bull pen as the door slammed shut. Doolin rose from the table, moving forward with a sorrowful look. He clasped Clifton’s hand in a firm grip. “Too bad,
