What you are about to hear is an individual historical account of Bat Masterson's return to Dodge City, Kansas. Ready for a thrilling journey back to the Wild West? Buckle up, as we spin a tale of the legendary Bat Masterson and his return to Dodge City in 1877. This ride is packed with high-stakes adventure, danger, and a deep dive into the fabric of America's past. Be right there with Masterson as he steps off the train into a bustling city, teetering on the edge of lawlessness. Your heart will race as we unveil the defining moments that shaped the man and the myth Masterson became.
In our second act, we explore the rough and tumble city streets of Dodge. The town is a powder keg, and Masterson finds himself in the center. His encounters with local figures, like the infamous Bobby Gill and Marshal Dagger, will have you gripping your seats. Then, we pivot from the dangerous city to the wild frontier. Experience a high-adrenaline buffalo hunt and a nerve-racking standoff with the Indians, featuring a show-stopping performance from young Billy Tillman. History isn't just a collection of facts and dates, it's a story of people, their struggles, their victories, and their defeats. Join us as we bring these stories to life.
Return of the Great Hunters
Cattle Drives Website
Legends of Dodge City Website
Order Books
What you are about to hear is an individual historical account of Bat Masterson's return to Dodge City, Kansas. Ready for a thrilling journey back to the Wild West? Buckle up, as we spin a tale of the legendary Bat Masterson and his return to Dodge City in 1877. This ride is packed with high-stakes adventure, danger, and a deep dive into the fabric of America's past. Be right there with Masterson as he steps off the train into a bustling city, teetering on the edge of lawlessness. Your heart will race as we unveil the defining moments that shaped the man and the myth Masterson became.
In our second act, we explore the rough and tumble city streets of Dodge. The town is a powder keg, and Masterson finds himself in the center. His encounters with local figures, like the infamous Bobby Gill and Marshal Dagger, will have you gripping your seats. Then, we pivot from the dangerous city to the wild frontier. Experience a high-adrenaline buffalo hunt and a nerve-racking standoff with the Indians, featuring a show-stopping performance from young Billy Tillman. History isn't just a collection of facts and dates, it's a story of people, their struggles, their victories, and their defeats. Join us as we bring these stories to life.
Return of the Great Hunters
Cattle Drives Website
Legends of Dodge City Website
Order Books
What you are about to hear is an individual, historical, reflective account of Bat Masterson's return to Dodge City, kansas. The motive for Masterson's return is being prompted by both his concerns for his older brother and an economic opportunity being made possible through various insiders who want to promote the cattle trade of 1877. The story is built around the foundational meetings of courage on the frontier. For civilization comes with a cost. It's the harshest cost of all, revealing every flaw to what man knows about courage in plain sight. Return to Dodge. I return to Dodge City in the spring of 1877.
Speaker 1:I left with the news of gold strikes in the Black Hills of South Dakota in July of 1875. I always looked for the next great adventure. The gold strikes gave me the idea of excitement, but soon bogged me down. I needed to seek a new challenge, as my last experience had gotten old and cold. I needed the buzz of a new thrill, the thrill of the unknown, the seeking of new responses that would push my limits, and this time it was to be a doozy. I tingled just from the thought of it. I had to go for a long ride on the train to attain my excitement. I'd receive word from Dodge City that I had become a favorite in the upcoming Ford County Sheriff's election. Before I left Cheyenne, I stopped in at the local tailor shop to purchase some traveling clothes. After all, I wanted to make a significant presence when I arrived back in Dodge City. I'd earn enough money to buy a good fit of clothes and set up a gambling business in Dodge City.
Speaker 1:I then boarded the next train bound for Dodge. The train was at full speed, rocking and clanking to the wheels, hitting each iron rail with an imperfect rhythm. I looked out from the window. It was like a mirror flickering away at the flat landscape which told the story of unsettled land. The mid-morning sun was radiant to the all-watching eye. It's light creeping into every corner, bathing the passenger car in a warm glow. A world with shades of truth. The frontier made no mistakes in. The ability to conquer or civilization came with a cost. It's the harshest cost of all, revealing every flaw to what a man knows about courage in plain sight. Over time, in this ruthless land, I'd come to realize that courage is nothing less than indifference to hardship and pain. A man's courage in the frontier is his way of maintaining virtue, a virtue that's always respected, even when associated with vice.
Speaker 1:I thought back over the past year. As I sat alone and watched the countryside reveal its unresolved stretch into a vast landscape with a seamless horizon, I could not shake the thoughts of the tragic death of Molly Brennan and how she sacrificed herself for me. I'd become a fortunate man that night, for both the bravery of Molly and my good friend Ben Ben not only saved me from the vigilance of Corporal King's comrades, but also nursed me back to health from my shattered pelvis. After the shooting incident with Corporal King, I returned home. There I had time to think about my new and unsought status as a man killer, a noted gunslinger. A tag like this would follow me everywhere I went.
Speaker 1:The train rattled eastward from Cheyenne Wyoming territory where I spent the last two months amongst the flood of gold seekers who had been arriving since early winter. Cheyenne was the jumping-off place for the rush to Black Hills Goldfields. The news of a gold rush doubled the population. By winter the town was seething with excitement, the excitement of gambling halls, saloons, dance halls, variety theaters and whorehouses were all packed and turning away business.
Speaker 1:While in Cheyenne I received a letter from my brother, ed, dated March 1877. The letter urged me to return to Dodge City. Ed described how new opportunities might make place with the upcoming April elections, that James dog Kelly might have a good chance of becoming the newly elected mayor. The news of Kelly's appointment would allow me to invest my money in Dodge City gambling house, something I'd always wanted to do. James Kelly told Ed that if he were elected mayor he would need good men to keep law and order, that I was on the top of his list to become the county sheriff. Ed wrote how he wanted to be a police officer. He said he'd been encouraged by Larry Dager to be his deputy. I remembered back when Dager was first appointed Marshall to Dodge and how some of the businessmen in Dodge felt Dager was not suitable for the position. Marshall Dager was not a renowned as a fighting man.
Speaker 1:I was concerned about my older brother, ed, taking on the responsibility as an officer of the peace, especially in a cattle town. I remembered Molly and Ben's stories of the conflicts erupting between merchants and cowboys. Ed was not the type to encounter the cruel acts of the Texas Cowboys, especially under the influence of whiskey. Ed and I hunted buffalo together in the early 70s when Dodge City was just a settlement. We made frequent visits to Dodge City to sell our buffalo hides. Dodge City, even in the first years, was a hard case settlement in a hard case country. Even before the extension of the Santa Fe Railroad and the news of the Texas Herds, dodge was a center of homicide and violence. The reputation Ed exceeded through corrupt members of the Vigilandes Committee and the acquired reputation of being the wickedest city on the plains.
Speaker 1:Now I was returning, but this time to make sure my brother was safe under my protection. The sound of the steam whistle blared to notify the passengers of the train's arrival. I reflected my past within a few seconds of the coachman's voice which echoed under the blast of steam. Next stop Dodge City. The train began its approach to a new destination in my life. I could feel the breakman ease the locomotive's steam engine to a stop. I looked out the window across the loading dock. The number of framed buildings now occupying Front Street astonished me. It was this. Dodge City had grown overnight.
Speaker 1:I stood up using a cane to brace my stand, reached up to the overhead luggage rack and limped out to the depot loading dock. I pulled from my vest pocket a watch and checked the time. At noon the sun bore down upon my black derby hat and casted a slight shadow. As I took a glance over the plaza, I saw my brother, ed, approaching the depot. Ed wore a big smile. He had a kind of soul type of person who would try to resolve conflict through peaceful means. He wasn't as colorful, direct or decisive as me. I felt like I had to look after Ed primarily after he had written to me about taking a deputy's position under Dagger. Hey bat, yelled Ed over the roar of the locomotive giving off pressure from the giant steam engine.
Speaker 1:I stood on the loading platform holding my bag as I watched Ed approach with a big smile. It only took one bounce to the platform for Ed to reach me and to deliver a big hug. Oh hey, you're back, exclaimed Ed. So happy to see you, little brother. You know I have a lot to tell you, especially about the political affairs here in Dott City. Ed reached down and picked up my one carry-on bag. Let me take your bag and we'll load them up on the buckboard. I'll show you around while we take a short trip over to the Cox Hotel.
Speaker 1:As Ed and I mounted the buckboard, I looked around Front Street with amazement. The town had grown into a small metropolitan community. Front Street, a wide road running east and west, just north of the Santa Fe tracks with their principal Cross Street, bridge Street or 2nd Avenue, led to the Toll Bridge over the Arkansas River For two blocks each way. From 2nd Avenue, front Street widened into the Plaza, with business establishments strung along the north side of the square. The depot, water tank and freight house were at the east end of the Plaza. The Calibus, a one-room square building, was immediately south of the tracks and served as a jail. It was made of solid 2x6 timbers, spiked flat sides, had floors, walls and a ceiling. On the second floor perched a light-board shack which served as an office for the city judge and clerk. The Dodge House. Deacon Cox's famous hotel was located two blocks east of 2nd Avenue at Railroad Avenue and Front Street, outlining the northern corner of the Plaza. Beebe's Iowa Hotel was at 3rd Avenue and Front Street.
Speaker 1:You know Dodge City elections are to be held on April 3rd, said Ed. The elections would be an excellent opportunity for you to cash in on the political front. Ed paused. Especially if James Kelly gets elected mayor, I would have to think that Bob Wright and our friend Michael Sutton is behind this election. I replied why do you say that, asked Ed. You know well as I do Bob Wright's a wealthy merchant, I stated. Bob Wright owns the town's biggest wholesale liquor concern. He and his friends, like James, kelly and others who handle large transactions, have become personal friends with cattle, barons and trail bosses. You're right, ed, agreed. Bob Wright and Kelly feel the men who bring prosperity to Dodge are to receive a hospitable treatment. What are a few smashed windows and shattered back bar mirrors compared to hundreds of thousands of dollars in their pockets? They need to make sure these free, willing spenders are made to feel welcome, concluded Ed with a laugh.
Speaker 1:Ed pulled up to Ham Bell's delivery. I'll let you off here, said Ed. At the delivery stable I ran into the owner, ham Bell. Ham had blue eyes and brown hair, was of spare build but broad shoulder. He had a decided Roman nose and a very determined chin. His first business in Dodge City was to build an 85 by 125 foot sawed livery stable. The livery was known far and wide as the Elephant livery stable, with an elephant painted on the side. The livery stable served as a rendezvous and bedding down place for horses and mules as well as people from throughout the region.
Speaker 1:Ham informed me that the saloon keepers at Dodge wanted a hard case marshal to crack down on lawlessness during the upcoming summer cattle drives. The cattle drives would be the time when 200,000 head of cattle would be coming up the trail from Texas and with them more than 2,000 rambunctious cowhands. Ham suggested that I run for the upcoming Ford County Sheriff's election. He said that Bassett was no longer eligible to run in the next election because he had served out his terms. I just shook my head at the idea. No, I don't think so, ham.
Speaker 1:I said the politics in Dodge City are well divided into two schools of thought on how severely the laws are to be enforced. The saloon keepers and the smaller merchants want their property protected. The faction of townspeople naturally favors the stern treatment of Texans who feel the urge to clean out the town. That's why Mayor Hoover segregated the wilder visitors below the deadline. Ham continued there's no change in that deadline, which exists south of the Santa Fe tracks. I said these places on the south side of the tracks have become the boardwalks from hell. Besides, I would not want to enforce any new laws that might bring harm or offend the growing number of wives and children who seek refuge on the north side of the tracks. I smiled and tipped my hat. The prospect of taking the Texans over the gambling tables is much more pleasing to me than protecting the Dodge City saloons and citizens on a sheriff's pay.
Speaker 1:Now, how about that horse? Sure Bat replied Ham, I'll go pick you out a fine one. Ham left the entrance of the livery and entered the stables at the back. It did not take long for Ham to pick out an excellent horse saddle and rig for me. I paid Ham for the horse and saddle and walked over to the Cox Hotel where my brother, ed, had made arrangements for room and board. I checked into the hotel, had a meal and waited for sunset Sunsets when the gas lit lanterns dimly shined in the streets of Dodge City and when the board walks from Hill would come to life.
Speaker 1:It was on June 6, 1877 when Robert Gilmore entered the Lady Gay Saloon. He was a small, inoffensive fellow known about town as Bobby Gill. His only vice is an overwhelming desire to rid the city of its liquor supply by consuming it. Sometimes his imagination was painful and tiresome. Once he became drunk he would create his world or situations which never happened. He became known as a town's orator and would stand in the middle of the street making vocal reprises of specific political figures. On this particular day he tanked up in the Lady Gay, where I attended the Faro table. I watched Bobby purchase a full bottle of whiskey, exit to the street and begin his alcoholic oration on the sidewalk.
Speaker 1:Bobby started his chanting oration to an on-looking crowd by saying I say here everyone, I am Bobby Gill. I have a story for you. It's about a sty, a fat one indeed. This sty was raised in a swamp and fed in a hog trough. The dagger sow that bore him named him Larry. He, being this dagger foul, suckled in fear, for he runs from the clique of every six gun. In that instance, after hearing Gilmore's first series of statements, I saw Bobby was headed for trouble. I turned to the gentleman at the table and politely said excuse me, gentlemen, I need to support a drunkard in need, for I am fearful the orator will soon be calling his undertaker. Bobby began his second statement of displeasure before I could reach him by saying oh Lord, we pray thee, protect us with thy mighty hand, for the coward Larry Dagger knows not how to make a stand. The further up you creak you go, the worse he gets. And Marshall Dagger is at the head of it.
Speaker 1:In a panic, I quickly exited the Lady Gay Saloon, but it was too late. Suddenly, the 300 pound Marshall Dagger jumped from the crowd of onlookers. I make exception to these remarks, yelled Dagger, grabbing Bobby Gil by his collar. I watched Bobby saunter, so much so that Marshall Dagger felt it necessary to administer a few paternal kicks in the rear. That was the breaking point of my patience. At that moment I saw Dagger kick Bobby roofily. I was blinded by a five core serving of rage that tasted bitter.
Speaker 1:I ran in the direction of Dagger, reached out and found my arms around the Marshall's neck with such force that it resulted in Bobby Gil's escape. I tackled Dagger and held him so tight that he couldn't fight back. I felt guilty, but I couldn't stop. So many years of subtle bullying sank deep into my mind and added a divine spice that competed the vexed dish that I was serving. I knew I should have put an end to it, apologize before I made it worse, but I didn't have it in me to stop. Dagger then grappled with me and at the same time called upon the bystanders to take my gun and an assist in the arrest. Help me deal with this lawless man, yelled Dagger.
Speaker 1:At this critical moment, joe Mason appeared upon the scene and grabbed my pistol, but I was determined not to surrender. Half a dozen Texas men went to the Marshall's aid. I came near getting a hold of a gun from among several who were strewn around the sidewalk that had joined in on the ruckus. I saw Dagger pull his gun from his holster and he started to beat me over the head. The first blow from Dagger's pistol handle struck me on the top of my head. The blood flew upon Joe Mason. A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout my body. My stomach ached, my arms lost tension and my legs had begun to weaken. It will not get the better of me, I thought. As I dropped to the ground, my tongue was soaked in the taste of blood, bruised and winded. With my head in agony, I grabbed Dagger's foot and pulled him to the ground. My head was pounding. I kicked at my attackers and warded off several blows with my arm.
Speaker 1:My next memory of my beating and humiliation was behind bars in the local jail, surrounded by four walls. There was nothing else to do but stare at them, to look at the carvings gouged by other prisoners, anything to pass the time. Slowly, I conjectured absurd meanings from the walls markings there inside the jail. Recovering from my wounds, I began to reflect on my future. Maybe it was time for me to get some revenge. Perhaps it was time to put on a badge. Putting on a sheriff's badge would take courage. I began to think back in time, a time when I became familiar with the meanings of courage At an earlier time, when I hunted Buffalo south of the Arkans' River, deep in Indian territory, with a hunter who taught me the meaning of courage.
Speaker 1:The hunter's name was Bill Tillman. I knew Bill Tillman when hunting Buffalo was far back as 1870. Tillman, a slim-built, bright-looking youth, scarcely 17 years old, was among the first white men to locate a Buffalo along the extreme southwestern border of Barbara County, kansas. He'd set up a hunting camp just across the Indian Reservation Line. I can remember when Ed and I first joined his team.
Speaker 1:Tillman pulled up to our camp one evening. We were located on the back of the Medicine Law River in southwestern Kansas. Tillman asked if we needed work. He said he needed some skinners. Ed and I were excited to join him on a buffalo hunt. We traveled with him using our wagon to a place only a few miles north of the boundary line. The boundary line was between Kansas and the Indian territory. When we set up camp, ed became concerned about us being too far south on the Indian hunting grounds.
Speaker 1:Tillman laughed at Ed's comment. He told us we were already deep in hostile Indian country. He explained how General Custer had put down an Indian uprising lasting more than a year. Don't fret over those Indians, said Tillman. The Indians, by terms of a recent treaty, had no right to leave their reservation without first obtaining permission from their agent. It's unlawful for an Indian to be in Kansas without government permission, tillman grinned. On the other hand, it's also forbidden for a white man to enter the Indian territory for either hunting or trading whiskey with the Indians, he said. The Indians, however, cared little for treaty stipulations. They often crossed over into Kansas to pillage as well as kill buffalo. Tillman told us how the Indians were known to conduct small raids on Buffalo Hunters camp while away hunting. Those Indians don't like us Buffalo Hunters much, laughed Tillman. They like to destroy the hunter's buffalo hides and carry away provisions and blankets, concluded Tillman.
Speaker 1:After a week or so out on the plains hunting Buffalo, tillman told Ed and I he noticed a small band of Indians lurking about in the country. The Indians came upon our camp that day while we were away. They cut up what hides we had staked on the ground for drying purposes. They also set fire to a pile of hides we had dried and ready for market. Our camp was a complete wreck. The Indians had destroyed several hundred dollars worth of hides. The noble red men who had visited our camp had also carried off everything there was to eat, but as Buffalo Hunters we found no trouble in making a hearty meal of Buffalo meat.
Speaker 1:That day's hunt had resulted in the taking of 25 buffalo hides, and a question now rose from Ed what are we going to do with all these buffalo hides? If we stake them out to dry, as the others had been, then the Indians would return and destroy all of our new hides, declared Ed. There's no reason to believe the Indians will not return and destroy them as they did the others. Both Ed and I were in favor of moving away from this location. The first thing the next morning. We're liable to all be killed if we stay here any longer, said Ed. I think we ought to go about 20 miles further north over Meal Creek, suggested Ed. Besides, hunting is as good there as here. The Indians hardly ever get that far away from the reservation. We will move away from here, agreed Billy in his characteristically deliberate manner, but only after I get even with those red thieves, for the damage they've caused us, demanded Tillman.
Speaker 1:Billy Tillman, although a mere boy at the time, was the mastermind of our camp and what he said was law. Ed said Billy, go, hitch up the team and drive to Griffin's ranch. We'll need some more supplies when you get to the ranch. Purchase a sack of flour, some coffee, sugar and a sack grain for the horses, ordered Tillman. You need to get back here before daylight in the morning. Your brother and I will unload these hides and peg them out to dry. Don't forget to feed the team when you get to the ranch. You'll need to let them rest up for an hour or two before you head back to camp. You'll have plenty of time to do that and get here by daybreak. Griffin's ranch was 15 miles north of our camp on the Medicine Lodge River. The only place near its purchase hunting supplies and provisions was Wichita. Wichita was 150 miles further east where hunting supplies and provisions could be obtained. Ed was soon on his way to Griffin's ranch, which only took three hours to reach.
Speaker 1:Tillman and I were busily engaged in fleshing and sticking out the green hides while Ed was away. I could tell Billy was still mad at those Indians. He looked directly at me with determination gleaning from his eyes. Billy remarked if those Thieves and Cheyennes come back again around this camp for the purpose to destroy things, there likely would be a big powwow. I don't intend to stop shooting as long as there's one of them in sight, tillman said with some emphasis, but supposing I asked with hesitation that there's a dozen or so of them. When they come, what then? Kill the entire outfit, replied Billy, if they don't run away. There was little else said on the subject before bedtime. It was a hard matter to understand by Tillman's actions. The only thing that seemed to worry him was the fear the Indians would fail to pay the camp another visit. Tillman wanted his revenge.
Speaker 1:Before daylight the following morning Ed was back in camp, having carried out his instructions to the letter. After breakfast that morning Tillman informed Ed and I that we would have to hunt without him that day. He told us he planned to conceal himself near the camp. Tillman had made a plan to be in a position to extend a cordial welcome to the pillaging Redskins. Them Indians better not show up this time, said Tillman as he headed to a tree line overseeing our camp. I watched Billy as he planted himself under cover of the trees before we left for the hunting ground. He was so well hidden that even the Indians watching our camp could not tell if we had all left camp as we had done the previous day.
Speaker 1:It was about noon when one lone Indian made his appearance at our camp. He rode up very leisurely to the top of a little knoll where he could get a good view of the camp. The one Indian was careful to survey the camp surroundings. The Indian discovered nothing to cause alarm and proceeded to make the usual Indian signals. This was done by circling the pony around in different ways. A Tillman who was crouched down in his little cache, was intently watching the Indian. He understood as well as the Redskins the meaning of the pony's gyrations. Then it happened Six other Indians rode up alongside the first and proceeded to make a careful mental note of everything in sight.
Speaker 1:The Indians soon concluded that there was no lurking danger and all rode down to the camp. This is what Billy had been hoping they would do. Now Billy thought to himself, if they will only all dismount as he looked out on the Indians riding down to camp, I'll kill the last one in the outfit before they can remount. He got his wish, for they all hopped down as soon as camp was reached. Billy, however, waited for a while to see if they intended mischief before opening up his guns on them. Billy was ready with his Sharp's Big 50 Buffalo Gun, a weapon that burned 120 grains of powder every time it exploded his shell. Billy did not have long to wait, for no sooner had one big buck hit the ground than he ran over to the sack of flour and picked it up and threw across his pony's back. Some of the others started out as Billy supposed to cut up the freshly staked hides. The big Indian who swiped the sack of flour had scarcely turned around before Tillman dropped him in his tracks with his rifle.
Speaker 1:The first shot from Billy's rifle caused a panic among the other Indians. Little did they suspect that there was an enemy near, until they heard the crack of the gun. In an instant Billy had in another cartridge and another thieving Cheyenne was sent to the happy hunting ground. A second Indian succeeded in reaching his pony. He had no sooner mounted him than he was knocked off by another bullet from Billy's Big 50. This made three out of the original seven killed. This was when the unusual thing occurred. One of the Indians abandoned his pony and took for a run. When Billy saw the Indian on the run, he thought to himself Southern Plains Indians do not abandon their ponies. Billy managed to nail one more of the fleeing marauders before he could reach the sheltering protection of the woods.
Speaker 1:The shooting attracted our attention. We were not more than two miles away. This caused us to hurry back to our camp. When we arrived, we expected to have to take a hand in a fight with Indians whom we had reason to believe were responsible for the shooting. We had heard the scrap is over, said Billy when we got near enough to hear him. Four of the hounds made their escape.
Speaker 1:I told you that night, didn't I Bat, that I would kill all if they came and stood their ground and didn't run away. Well, he said in a rather hopeless tone of voice. I fell somewhat short on my calculations as seven came and I only succeeded in getting three, but then that wasn't so bad, considering they left us their ponies. What's to be done now, inquired Ed who was not hankering for a run in with the Indians at that time. Don't get frightened, said Billy. Remember we're in Kansas and those dead Indians were nothing more than thieving outlaws. They have no right to be off their reservation. If any more of them come around before we're ready to leave, we'll start right off and killing them.
Speaker 1:There was nevertheless little time wasted in getting away from that locality. In a hurry, we loaded the camp dunnage into our wagon. The team headed towards the north. Ed, who was driving, was told to keep up a lively trot whenever possible. Billy brought up the rear, mounted on one of the Indian ponies and driving the others. Look here, billy, I said as we were about to pull out of camp. Don't you think we ought to bury those dead Indians before leaving? Never mind those dead Indians, replied Tillman. The buzzards will attend to their funeral. Go ahead, let's get out of here while the getting's good.
Speaker 1:When dark overtook our party that night, we were on Mule Creek, 25 miles from where we had pulled up camp. At noon the Indians reported the occurrence of the killing to their agent at the Cheyenne Agency but received no satisfaction. The Indians were informed that they were liable to be killed every time they left the reservation without permission. That was my first mix-up with the Indians. It was not my last. I left Billy on the plains when we returned to Dodge City to sell our hides. During my Buffalo days, I had come to realize that courage is nothing less than indifference to hardship and pain. Billy taught me how to survive on the frontier. He taught me a man's courage in the frontier as his way of maintaining virtue, a virtue that's always respected, even when associated with vice. Billy continued to hunt in that country as the Indians persisted in crossing over into Kansas. There were many clashes between them, which invariably resulted in the Indians getting the worst of the encounter.
Speaker 1:After about two hours in the pokey, I heard raised voices coming through the closed door of my jail cell. The ensuing argument broke my thoughts about Tillman. Sounds were recognizable. The first was Bobby Gill and the second voice was my brother, ed. Ed had been appointed assistant marshal the day before he had made his first arrest to the season. He hunted Bobby Gill down that afternoon and added injury to insult. When he logged Gill in the pokey with me, I thought about Ed's appointment as deputy marshal. I would have been entirely happy if Ed would not have signed.
Speaker 1:As a deputy marshal I liked having Ed around. I loved my oldest brother more than anyone else in the world, but not as a peace officer. Ed just wasn't cut out for the job. He was gentle, easygoing, liked everyone and was liked by everyone who knew him longer than a minute. There was no heat in his voice. He was very different from me. He took time to absorb things and then responded more than reacted. He would try and dampen situations rather than adding to the flames. But that wouldn't preserve him from being gunned down by some hothead Texan who wouldn't give himself a chance to know Ed for as long as a minute and would only be looking at that hated badge on his wishbone anyway. Not that there was any question then or later of Ed's courage In a showdown. Much as he hated violence, ed had as much guts as anyone and more than most. Ed was simply a born lover of humanity who insisted on giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. That tendency to wait until a man proved he was a louse could be fatal.
Speaker 1:After a night in the cooler with Gil, it was my turn to confront Judge Dan Frost. The next morning I was hauled into police court before my old friend Judge Frost. Frost fined me $25 for fracturing the piece in a disorderly saloon in Red Light District. At the hearing Gil also pleaded guilty but to my surprise Bobby asked the court for special consideration. Jesus Christ had died on the cross for just such sinners as me, pleaded Bobby. Judge Frost considered the point well taken and let Gil off for the $5 fine. I left Judge Frost upset and rejected over the Gil incident. It only took Gil a few minutes before he was back on Front Street with a bottle narrating to the citizens of Dodge City. I was amazed by Gil's oration skills as I stood in the corner listening to his phrases. When the darkness overpowers, you hold on to the last of the light and know that when it is gone you held on. You can survive in the dark. When you burn, rise from the ashes, you will have done what no one else will and through the pain you can stand up when others say down. A few days later the Dodge City Council showed its sympathy for me by ordering that the fine be remitted.
Speaker 1:Somehow the incident between Dagger and I convinced the Republicans of Ford County that I was the man for the Sheriff's office to replace Bassett. I did not reject the idea, particularly since Larry Dagger was being detached from his Marshal's star. I wanted to get even and agreed to run for sheriff as the nominee of the Democrats. All I wanted was revenge on Dagger. The need for revenge was like a rat gnawing at my soul, relentless and unceasing. It could only be stopped by the cold steel of a rat trap, a trap I would devise for Larry Dagger. Taking the election from Larry Dagger would be the first start in my lasting revenge.
Speaker 1:Furthermore, I was attracted by the prestige of being Sheriff of Ford County. At the same time, I decided to purchase an interest in a piece of the Lone Star Dance Hall. I did so with my Cheyenne winnings so that I may not suffer financially when I assume public office. The Lone Star Saloon had a reputation as a deadfall. Jammed full of free and easy girls, long-haired buffalo hunters and wild and wooly cowboys, this place was much infested with the vestiges of a rough culture. Entering the site left an opportunity for the darkest of minds to flourish and getting what people cannot admit in the open what they desire.
Speaker 2:We would like to conclude our show by reminding our listeners to check out our up and coming digital bookstore by visiting boothillproductionscom and select publications. We would also like to thank our sponsors, Boothill Distillery, and if you would like to sponsor our show, just send us an email at Wild West Podcast at gmailcom. Thanks for listening to our podcast. This podcast is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribute Non-Commercial License. You can learn more about the Legends of Dodge City at worldfamousgunfightersweeblycom or by visiting our new Facebook page at wwwfacebookcom. Wild West Podcast.