For Tilghman and Thomas, the farmer’s story removed all doubt. It was now apparent that Doolin, fearing Lane would be captured and talk, had hastily improvised a new plan. The stolen buggy had been dumped, and the fugitives had switched to saddle mounts capable of traveling overland. There was no question in the lawmen’s minds that their first hunch had been dead on the mark. Doolin and Clifton were headed on a beeline for the safety of the Nations. With a head start of some sixteen hours, the outcome seemed a foregone conclusion. They had probably already crossed into Indian Territory.
Thomas was all for a manhunt centered on the Nations. He wanted to alert his informants and put the backwoods grapevine to work. But Tilghman had been down that road several times over the last year. Though they had caught gang members in the Nations, they had never once gotten a lead on Doolin. To the contrary, he argued, Doolin was a will-o’-the-wisp who left no trail. Instead, virtually every time, the outlaw leader had doubled back, usually picking a hideout far removed from other members of the Wild Bunch. There was no reason to believe he would do otherwise this time.
Tilghman thought their search should be centered around Ingalls and Lawson. He was convinced that Doolin’s primary concern was his wife and child, rather than an attempt to resurrect the Wild Bunch. There was a remote likelihood that the outlaw would contact the Dunn brothers. The ranch was a known hideout, but he was wily as a fox, and often relied on the unpredictable to throw off pursuit. The greater likelihood was that Doolin would somehow spirit his wife and child out of Oklahoma Territory. All the more so since he’d tried once before to take off with his family. The high probability was that he would run and keep on running.
Thomas was finally persuaded. He found it hard to differ with the only man who had caught Doolin, and one who clearly understood how the gang leader thought. They rode out the next morning, and arrived at the Dunn ranch late that evening. A quick check confirmed that Doolin was nowhere around, and they sat down with the Dunn brothers. The Dunns were cooperative, reminded that the charges against them would be dropped only when Doolin was imprisoned or hanged. But they knew nothing of his whereabouts, and swore they hadn’t seen him since his escape. Nor had they heard anything on the grapevine from their horse-thief friends. There was simply no word on Doolin.
They stayed the night with the Dunns. The following morning over breakfast, Tilghman casually asked Bee Dunn if he knew anyone in Lawson. To his amazement, Dunn remarked just as casually that his sister lived there. Dunn went on to say that she was married to Charlie Noble, who had settled in Lawson rather than Ingalls during the territory’s first land rush. Noble was a blacksmith and operated a shop jointly owned with his brother, Tom. Under questioning, Dunn grudgingly admitted that the Noble brothers frowned upon their in-laws’ dealings in stolen horses—their major reason for settling in another town.
Upon riding out that morning, Tilghman and Thomas were still astonished at the turn of fortune. They agreed that a simple, off-the-cuff question often resulted in a payoff far larger than expected. Tilghman was prompted to ask the question in the unlikely hope that Dunn had shady business dealings with a livestock dealer in Lawson. A thief turned informant sometimes led to another thief who could be persuaded to turn informant. What neither of them ever expected was that the Dunns had a sister, and two brothers-in-law, living in Lawson. The joker in the development was that the brothers-in-law were honest men. They decided to appeal to greed.
Early that afternoon they rode into Lawson. The Noble brothers’ blacksmith shop was located at the south edge of town, on the west side of the street. As they dismounted, Tilghman and Thomas noted that the back window of the shop afforded a clear view of John Ellsworth’s home. The Ellsworth house was two streets over on a corner lot that jutted southward farther than the houses in between. The window was a perfect spyhole on the activities of Edith Doolin.
The Noble brothers were busy shoeing a plow horse. No one else was in sight, and the lawmen assumed the horse’s owner had stepped uptown. Tilghman quickly took the lead, explaining that they were there at the suggestion of Bee Dunn. The brothers paused, frowning at the mention of the name. Tilghman related in a confidential voice that the Dunns were informants for the government. The revelation seemed to shock Tom, the younger brother, whose shoulders bulged with muscle. Charlie, married to the Dunns’ sister, was apparently beyond being shocked by his in-laws. A man of some girth, heavier than his brother, he seemed unfazed by the news. He appointed himself spokesman for the family.
“Why you tellin’ us all this?” he said, when Tilghman finished. “We don’t have no truck with the Dunns.”
“They’re still your wife’s brothers,” Tilghman observed. “Would you want them to go to jail?”
“Don’t make no never mind to me. Jail’s where they belong.”
“Unless you assist us, they might still wind up in jail. Or maybe you’d be more interested in the reward.”
Noble’s brow wrinkled. “What reward?”
“We’re after Bill Doolin,” Tilghman said. “His wife lives here with her father. John Ellsworth.”
“Whole town knows about Edith Doolin. Saw her on the street with her baby only this mornin’. So what?”
“There’s a five-thousand-dollar reward on Doolin. You lend a hand and we’ll split it with
