it back to Oklahoma. Grattan did get arrested and tried—one man had been killed in that botched California job—ending up with a twenty-year jail term, but he managed to escape and rejoin his brothers.
Apparently they added to their numbers after that, for there were four newcomers with them—Charlie “Blackface” Bryant, Charley Pierce, “Bitter Creek” George Newcomb, and Bill Doolin—when they robbed the Santa Fe Limited at Wharton in the Cherokee Strip in May last year. No one was killed that time, and they escaped with over ten thousand dollars. Blackface Bryant didn’t live long enough to spend hisshare, though, dying shortly afterward in a shoot-out with U.S. Deputy Marshal Ed Short.
Later that same month, the gang got away with a reported nineteen thousand after flagging down the Missouri, Kansas & Texas train at Lelietta. But they’d likely been holed up, living off their ill-gotten gains after that, because the Dalton gang didn’t appear in newsprint again until this past June, when they robbed another train at Redrock. And their last train robbery, in July at Adair, got bloody again, with three men wounded and one dead.
But apparently they were stepping up their operations to include banks now, and not just one, but two at once. Quite an ambitious undertaking for this gang of owlhoots, if it was true. Casey intended to be there to prevent it and collect the rewards.
The combined amounts offered for the gang members would be well over what she’d been hoping to have in the bank when she finished her “point-proving.” She’d be able to go home, which was what she’d been yearning to do only two weeks after she left. Instead, she’d been gone for six months. Six long months and plenty of tears in between.
Chapter 8
J ust one hour further last night on the trail, and they could have slept in relative comfort. But Casey hadn’t known that, this being her first time traveling as far north as Kansas. She hadn’t figured she would run out of food, either, before she reached the next town, but having three extra mouths to feed had seen to that.
They were late hitting the trail that morning because she’d had to go hunting again for breakfast, having gone through the last of her dough and canned goods with the previous night’s dinner. She always bought just enough food staples in each town she passed through to last her to the next town, but that didn’t take into account running into lost Easterners and bungling stage robbers along the way. So even though it had been only another hour along the trail, it was still midmorning when they rode into Coffeyville.
It was a decent-sized mercantile town. Casey had figured it would be, if it had two banks. And as they rode down the main street on theway to the sheriff’s office, she eyed both the First National Bank and the Condon Bank just across the street from it, then glanced around to find a good place nearby from which she could keep an eye on them.
Workmen were busy on the street and had temporarily removed the hitching rails in front of both banks. As she wound the horses around the men, Casey wasn’t sure she was glad to see that.
Bank robbers tended to count on being able to tether their horses within easy access for their getaways, which meant directly in front of or at the sides of their targets. If the Daltons rode in and saw no rails, they might decide not to hit the banks after all and ride right back out.
That would be good for the town, but it wouldn’t put these particular outlaws out of commission. In that case, Casey would have to depend on the descriptions she had of them in order to recognize them, if she was going to hold any hope of still bringing them to justice.
But presently everything was quiet, so it looked like she would have enough time to dispose of her current prisoners and get prepared to take on the next bunch.
She still hadn’t decided whether to tell the sheriff here what was planned. There was always the
Apparently they added to their numbers after that, for there were four newcomers with them—Charlie “Blackface” Bryant, Charley Pierce, “Bitter Creek” George Newcomb, and Bill Doolin—when they robbed the Santa Fe Limited at Wharton in the Cherokee Strip in May last year. No one was killed that time, and they escaped with over ten thousand dollars. Blackface Bryant didn’t live long enough to spend hisshare, though, dying shortly afterward in a shoot-out with U.S. Deputy Marshal Ed Short.
Later that same month, the gang got away with a reported nineteen thousand after flagging down the Missouri, Kansas & Texas train at Lelietta. But they’d likely been holed up, living off their ill-gotten gains after that, because the Dalton gang didn’t appear in newsprint again until this past June, when they robbed another train at Redrock. And their last train robbery, in July at Adair, got bloody again, with three men wounded and one dead.
But apparently they were stepping up their operations to include banks now, and not just one, but two at once. Quite an ambitious undertaking for this gang of owlhoots, if it was true. Casey intended to be there to prevent it and collect the rewards.
The combined amounts offered for the gang members would be well over what she’d been hoping to have in the bank when she finished her “point-proving.” She’d be able to go home, which was what she’d been yearning to do only two weeks after she left. Instead, she’d been gone for six months. Six long months and plenty of tears in between.
Chapter 8
J ust one hour further last night on the trail, and they could have slept in relative comfort. But Casey hadn’t known that, this being her first time traveling as far north as Kansas. She hadn’t figured she would run out of food, either, before she reached the next town, but having three extra mouths to feed had seen to that.
They were late hitting the trail that morning because she’d had to go hunting again for breakfast, having gone through the last of her dough and canned goods with the previous night’s dinner. She always bought just enough food staples in each town she passed through to last her to the next town, but that didn’t take into account running into lost Easterners and bungling stage robbers along the way. So even though it had been only another hour along the trail, it was still midmorning when they rode into Coffeyville.
It was a decent-sized mercantile town. Casey had figured it would be, if it had two banks. And as they rode down the main street on theway to the sheriff’s office, she eyed both the First National Bank and the Condon Bank just across the street from it, then glanced around to find a good place nearby from which she could keep an eye on them.
Workmen were busy on the street and had temporarily removed the hitching rails in front of both banks. As she wound the horses around the men, Casey wasn’t sure she was glad to see that.
Bank robbers tended to count on being able to tether their horses within easy access for their getaways, which meant directly in front of or at the sides of their targets. If the Daltons rode in and saw no rails, they might decide not to hit the banks after all and ride right back out.
That would be good for the town, but it wouldn’t put these particular outlaws out of commission. In that case, Casey would have to depend on the descriptions she had of them in order to recognize them, if she was going to hold any hope of still bringing them to justice.
But presently everything was quiet, so it looked like she would have enough time to dispose of her current prisoners and get prepared to take on the next bunch.
She still hadn’t decided whether to tell the sheriff here what was planned. There was always the
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