“Ooo God no!”
Edith Doolin’s scream echoed through the woods. Tilghman moved into the road and saw her tumble over the side of the wagon. He hurried forward as Thomas levered a fresh round and walked toward the body. She scrambled off the ground, her eyes wild with terror, and Tilghman caught her in his arms. She struggled to break free, wailing a low, keening moan, but he held her tighter. Her mouth opened in a tormented cry.
“I have to see him! Please, God, let me see him!”
“Later, Mrs. Doolin,” Tilghman said in a quiet voice. “There’ll be time for that later.”
Her features sagged, tears spilling down her cheeks. She went limp in his arms, her body shuddering with soft, mewling sobs. Tilghman held her close, saddened by her grief, knowing it could have ended no other way. Unbidden, a wayward thought came to him, something out of the past. A remark once made by Heck Thomas, and now come true.
One of them would be renowned as the man who killed Bill Doolin.
EPILOGUE
The Wild Bunch was no more, and Bill Doolin was dead. A mood of celebration prevailed, and the Three Guardsmen were once again summoned to Guthrie. The Capitol Building was at last under construction, and on November 14 a crowd of some five thousand people gathered before the capitol grounds.
The capitol was located at the east end of Oklahoma Avenue. A tall speaker’s platform had been erected in front of the construction site, the railings and stanchions festooned with bunting in patriotic colors. Behind the podium there were rows of chairs, occupied by legislators, judges and other dignitaries. Seated among them were Bill Tilghman, Heck Thomas, and Chris Madsen.
Governor William Renfrow had proclaimed it Marshal’s Day. His proclamation, circulated throughout the territory, had set aside a day to honor the men who had brought law and order to a new frontier. Foremost among that number were the three men seated on the dais today. Their names were household words across Oklahoma Territory, and people had traveled by train and buggy and horseback to be there for the occasion. Men sat children on their shoulders so that they could one day say they had seen the greatest lawmen of an era.
Zoe stood with her father in the front rank of spectators. The crowd stretched westward along Oklahoma Avenue and spilled out onto sidestreets. Newspapers from throughout the territory were represented by reporters and cameramen positioned directly before the speaker’s platform. Off to one side, a uniformed band played rousing tunes made popular by John Philip Sousa, bandmaster for the U.S. Marine Corps. The music and the patriotic trappings lent a holiday atmosphere to the occasion.
On the platform, Governor Renfrow and U.S. Marshal Patrick Nagle were seated beside the three lawmen. The governor nodded to one of his aides, who in turn signaled the bandleader. The air filled with the blare of trumpets as the band segued into ruffles and flourishes to open the ceremonies. The crowd broke into lusty cheers as the governor made his way to the podium. A consummate politician, he spread his arms high and looked out over the throng with his trademark nutcracker grin. Finally, lowering his arms, he motioned for silence.
“Good people of Oklahoma Territory!” he boomed in a resonant voice. “We gather today to honor the men who brought law and order to our great land. We commend in particular the three men who again and again risked their lives in stamping out that infamous gang of killers, the Wild Bunch.” He paused, an arm thrust out in dramatic gesture toward the lawmen. “I speak of peace officers whose deeds have made their names legend across this land—the Three Guardsmen!”
The crowd burst out in a spontaneous roar. After a moment, the governor quieted them with outstretched arms, and went on with his speech. Thomas glanced at Tilghman, then at Madsen, who had returned from his post in Missouri for the occasion. They exchanged the slight smiles of men unaccustomed to the fanfare and hyperbole of public acclamation. The governor’s rich baritone continued to extol their deeds, playing on the theme of good versus evil, lawman against outlaw. The spectators stood as though mesmerized by his words.
Tilghman listened with only mild interest. His mind drifted back over the people and events that had brought him to this point in time. He recalled every manhunt, every shootout, all the death and suffering that littered the past. His most vivid memory was of Bill Doolin, who somehow seemed the last of a breed. Far more clever, and deadly, than the likes of Al Jennings, who awaited trial in federal court. He saw it as the end of an era, horseback marshals pitted against outlaws who ran in packs. Oklahoma Territory would soon absorb Indian Territory, and the sanctuary of the Nations would be gone forever. The outlaw days were finished, and with it, a moment in time. A new era, far different from the old, lay ahead.
Watching from the crowd, Zoe was overcome with pride. Only ten days ago, Tilghman had been elected sheriff of Lincoln County by a landslide vote. Yet she knew, looking at him now, that he would be remembered most for his work in eliminating the Wild Bunch. Historians would one day write of him and Heck Thomas and Chris Madsen, and all the other men who had worn the federal badge. Their courage and dedication, their iron determination, would be recorded for future generations. She thought the record would accord them their due, their rightful place in history. They were, indeed, the stuff of legend.
“So I say to you,” Governor Renfrow told the crowd. “Never before in the annals of crime have peace officers faced such a daunting and bloody challenge. These men fought a war, a long and unrelentless war for the rule of law in Oklahoma Territory. And they won!”
Hands upraised, the governor stilled the crowd, promising more. “These are valiant
