On the Dodge Read Free

have been seen beside two handcuffed prisoners, one of them
wounded. In a circle round him were four dead cowpunchers of the Henry
outfit.
    "Uncle" Billy Tilghman died the other day at Cromwell, Oklahoma, a
victim of his own fearlessness. He was shot to death while taking a
revolver from a drunken prohibition agent. If he had been like many
other bad men he would have shot the fellow down at the first sign of
danger. But that was never Tilghman's way. It was his habit to make
arrests without drawing a gun. He cleaned up Dodge during the three
years while he was marshal. He broke up the Doolin gang, killing Bill
Raidler and "Little" Dick in personal duels and capturing Bill Doolin
the leader. Bat Masterson said that during Tilghman's terms as sheriff
of Lincoln County, Oklahoma, he killed, captured, or drove from the
country more criminals than any other official that section ever had.
Yet "Uncle" Billy never used a gun except reluctantly. Time and again
he gave the criminal first shot, hoping the man would surrender rather
than fight. Of all the old frontier sheriffs none holds a higher place
than Billy Tilghman.
    After which diversion we return to Billy Brooks, a "gent" of an
impatient temperament, not used to waiting, and notably quick on the
trigger. Mr. Dubbs records that late one evening in the winter of
'72-'73 he returned to Dodge with two loads of buffalo meat. He
finished his business, ate supper, and started to smoke a postprandial
pipe. The sound of a fusillade in an adjoining dance hall interested
him since he had been deprived of the pleasures of metropolitan life
for some time and had had to depend upon Indians for excitement. ( Incidentally,
it may be mentioned that they furnished him a reasonable amount. Not
long after this three of his men were caught, spread-eagled, and
tortured by Indians. Dubbs escaped after a hair-raising ride and
arrived at Adobe Walls in time to take part in the historic defence of
that post by a handful of buffalo hunters against many hundred
tribesmen. ) From the building burst four men. They started across
the railroad track to another dance hall, one frequented by Brooks.
Dubbs heard the men mention the name of Brooks, coupling it with an
oath. Another buffalo hunter named Fred Singer joined Dubbs. They
followed the strangers, and just before the four reached the dance hall
Singer shouted a warning to the marshal. This annoyed the unknown four,
and they promptly exchanged shots with the buffalo hunters. What then
took place was startling in the sudden drama of it.
    Billy Brooks stood in bold relief in the doorway, a revolver in each
hand. He fired so fast that Dubbs says the sound was like a company
discharging weapons. When the smoke cleared Brooks still stood in the
same place. Two of the strangers were dead and two mortally wounded.
They were brothers. They had come from Hays City to avenge the death of
a fifth brother shot down by Brooks some time before.
    Mr. Brooks had a fondness for the fair sex. He and Browney, the yard
master, took a fancy to the same girl. Captain Drew, she was called,
and she preferred Browney. Whereupon Brooks naturally shot him in the
head. Perversely, to the surprise of everybody, Browney recovered and
was soon back at his old job.
    Brooks seems to have held no grudge at him for making light of his
markmanship in this manner. At any rate, his next affair was with Kirk
Jordan, the buffalo hunter.
    This was a very different business. Jordan had been in a hundred tight
holes. He had fought Indians time and again. Professional killers had
no terror for him. He threw down his big buffalo gun on Brooks, and the
latter took cover. Barrels of water had been placed along the principal
streets for fire protection. These had saved several lives during
shooting scrapes. Brooks ducked behind one, and the ball from Jordan's
gun plunged into it. The marshal dodged into a store, out of the rear
door, and into a livery stable. He was hidden under a bed. Alas! for