Chapter 53

Union Station Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania June 19, 1885

Eli had been on the train for four days when he arrived in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. They had an hour layover there, one of many layovers they’d had on his long train ride from Indian Territory. After he’d found the toilets to relieve himself, he sat inside the huge train station and watched the hundreds of people coming and going. He’d never seen this many people in one place ever before, not even in Kansas City at the ballpark.

He kept hearing parts of a loud conversation between two men behind him and turned sideways on the long bench seat to listen and watch what was happening. The men were in a heated argument about the loss of a business contract and it sounded to Eli as if the two were brothers.

When the attendant came through announcing the departure of a train heading to Chicago, the larger and older of the two brothers stood up to leave.

Eli was standing by the windows looking out at all the trains parked down below on the tracks, waiting to load or unload passengers on what looked like hundreds of cars. These were all passenger cars. There wasn’t a freight car in sight.

“Izzell Rupert Gilboney! God Damn it, I’ve told you time and time again, you must have signed contracts before we can ship that equipment. This is the last time I’m going to stand for your sorry-ass, slip-shod way of doing business. You carry the contracts with you, now get them signed in the future or we won’t ship them. I suppose you know that we now have eleven complete ice plants in the warehouse there in Washington, just because of you losing those last three units to our competitors. Our father would roll over in his grave at the way you carry on your sloppy business dealings. He taught us better and you know it!”

“Benyamin Amrun Gilboney! Stop this loud cursing me in public. I explained to you that the man’s son assured me we’d get the sale of those three units, then when his father returned from Chicago, he’d already made a deal with Standard Ice Company for the equipment.

“This other sale was for one more ice plant to be delivered to Mr. Merkel in Cincinnati. He already has two units installed that we sold him. We know he’s good for the money!” The little man said in his defense.

“I apologize, Izzy. Damn it all, you have to understand though, we are on the verge of going under and we need all the sales we can get this month or we’ll have to shut down our manufacturing operations. When that happens we’ll lose all our experienced employees. We’ll never get back on our feet again if that happens and we’ll lose all that our father left us. The bank told me just last week that if we failed to make a payment again the first of this month, they would foreclose!”

“We’ll make it, Benyamin. I - I’ll come up with someone to buy our complete inventory of ice plants and we’ll get the money. You just need to have a little more faith, you’ll see.”

“Izzy, who in hell is going to buy eleven damn complete ice plants in time for us to make a payment and keep our doors open? I’m on my way to Chicago now to try and get a second mortgage on our personal property and the warehouses. My home and yours too is at stake, Izzy. Do you not understand the seriousness of all this?”

The man again yelled at his younger brother, then stomped off to board his train.

Eli had heard each and every word in the last part of this loud conversation, as did most of the people sitting anywhere near the men. Eli’s mind locked on that one statement Benyamin Gilboney had made about their business.

Ice plants.

When Izzy Gilboney turned to walk out toward the loading platform and board his train to D.C., his head was down in despair. He walked right up to the biggest pair of leather moccasins he’d ever seen, and slowly looked up. There stood the tallest man he’d ever faced. He looked up at the man to see he was Indian and he was dressed in buckskins with a U.S. Marshal’s badge pinned to his shirt. The man wore a huge gun strapped on his hip, yet he was smiling down at him.

Izzy just knew this was it. The bankers had already sent the marshals after him and now they had chased him down! He wanted to throw down his satchel and run.

Izzy felt like this was the end as he slowly extended his hands, expecting the marshal to put the cuffs on him.

“Mr. Gilboney, I’m Eli Crow, United States Marshal out of Tulsa, down in Indian Territory. I want to buy all the ice plants you have now and can build for the next year or so!”

Izzy Gilboney’s knees grew weak – then buckled as he sank to the floor.

Eli grabbed the little man before he hit the floor, holding him up by his upper arms as the man looked at him with his eyes wide. He was barely breathing and he was staring up into Eli’s face, wide eyed with a blank look as he tried to move his lips to speak.

“W-w-would y-y-ou r-repeat t-t-that? I-I’m af-afraid I d-d-didn’t u-u-understand what y-you s-said.” He finally stammered.

“I’m U.S. Marshal Eli Crow and I want to buy all your ice plants you have in inventory plus a lot more. Then hire you to set them up for me.”

“M-Marshal C-Crow, w-will y-you excuse m-me while I run get my b-brother, B-B-Benya-ya-min off that t-train to Chi-Chicago? P-Please don’t leave, I’ll be r-right b-back!” The small, frail man stuttered, already walking away from Eli while looking back at him.

“I’ll be here. I’m going to Washington also,” Eli told him.

He watched the man dodge through the crowds, dart down the two flights of stairs, then through the revolving door, almost tripping, before running out onto the loading docks.

Izzy had been gone for quite a while and Eli was now walking toward the line to board his train to Washington. He felt a slight tug at his sleeve and looked back to see Izzy and his brother standing behind him.

“Marshal Crow, this is my brother, Benyamin. Would you please tell him what you wanted from us? He doesn’t believe me, and I can hardly believe it myself!” Izzy Gilboney gushed his words out.

“Benyamin Gilboney, I want to buy all the ice plants you have now and possibly all you can build for a year. That is if your brother Izzy can come to Indian Territory and set them up for me.”

“Marshal Crow, you are a God-Send!” Benyamin Gilboney all but shouted as he and his brother laughed, hooked arms together, and danced in a circle.

“I couldn’t believe my brother when he came and practically dragged me off my train. Where will you be staying in D.C.? Perhaps we can all have dinner and discuss this. Would you like to look over our basic contract as we ride the train to D.C.?”

“How far is it to D.C. from here? Maybe we can meet in the diner car? I’ll buy you and Izzy a big steak if they cook them on this train.”

“Marshal Crow, we’ll meet you in the diner car in a few minutes, it will take us a bit to arrange passage for me since I just walked off the train to Chicago and have no ticket.”

“There’s a ticket window, let’s get that ticket now and I’ll follow you and Izzy to the diner, since I’m not that familiar with these new type trains.”

Eli was already walking toward the ticket window where there was only one other customer in line. He stepped right up to the window as soon as it was vacant and purchased one ticket to Washington, D.C.

Once the two Gilboney brothers became friends with Eli, the three men spent the entire trip together, from Pittsburgh to Washington. They laughed and told tales about their lives like old friends.

Neither of the Gilboney brothers had ever known an Indian before today. They were shocked to know he had no education, except for what he’d learned from his ma, his sister, and his wife Miranda, who was herself a school teacher there in Tulsa.

The time it took for them to agree upon a deal for all of their ice plants to be delivered and accompanied by Izzy, was only a few of the two hundred and forty miles they traveled on the train together.

Not only did Eli sign the contract for the eleven complete ice plants, when they were stopped at one town for coal and water, Eli sent Jon David a telegraph message to have the money sent to the Gilboney’s bank directly, to be deposited into their account.

One more thing Eli did was offer to purchase half interest in their business, since he saw a huge opportunity for the future growth of ice plants, not only in Indian Territory, but all over the new frontier that was being settled and populated.

Langham Hotel Washington, D.C. June 19, 1885

Upon their arrival in Washington, D.C. the Gilboney brothers were happy to escort Eli to his hotel, since he had no idea how to get there. They even showed him the carriages that operated as a taxi service, much like the ones in Kansas City that he was familiar with.

“Marshal, all you have to do, is tell your driver to take you to the U.S. Marshal’s Service office and they will deliver you there promptly,” Izzy told him as he and Benyamin left Eli with his traveling bag at the front desk of the Langham Hotel.

The three men had made plans for both the Gilboney brothers to come to Tulsa with the first delivery of ice plants and bring their entire set of company books. He and Jon David exchanged many telegraph messages while Eli was there at the hotel.

Jon David was to have Jefferson and Howard begin traveling to all the towns in Indian Territory that already had rail service, buying land for the construction of a coal house and an ice plant to be built side by side near the railroads. He could see the need for coal and ice in those towns and the two businesses would work well together, making money year round!

The first morning in Washington, D.C. Eli was up early. When he went down to the lobby from his fourth floor room at 5:00 am, there was only one person there, and he was asleep.

“Mister, do they make coffee in this hotel in the mornings?” He asked the man, after shaking him awake.

“The dining room will open for breakfast at 6:30, Marshal. But if you want a cup of coffee now, I can take you back to the kitchen and you can drink coffee until they start serving breakfast.”

By 7:00, Eli was through with his breakfast and on his way back to his room for his daily constitutional, before his meeting at 8:30 at the marshal’s service

United States Marshals Service Pennsylvania, Avenue Washington, D.C. June 20, 1885

Eli waved for a carriage at 7:30 and was delivered to his destination forty-five minutes before his appointment. The doors opened at 8:00 and Eli walked inside to look around the huge building and get directions.

“Marshal Crow, I see in this letter that you came up here from Indian Territory. Is that place still as wild and untamed as it once was?” The young deputy marshal asked as he escorted Eli to the waiting room near the offices where his first meeting was to take place.

“Well, it’s not as bad as it once was, but we still have a few that don’t like living under the law.”

“I was raised in Fort Smith and came here five years ago, with a letter of recommendation from Judge Parker. I suppose you’re still working under him now?”

“Yes, I count Judge Parker as one of the best friends I’ve ever had. He’s been good to me and my family.”

“Tell me about that scuffle you had with those black cats up in the Kiamichi Mountains, Marshal. I read this article about that in the local papers, back there at Fort Smith. I’ll never forget that story as long as I live. I’ve already told my two young sons about you and that story.” The deputy said as he held up the three long, narrow newspaper clippings in front of him.

“That story may have been just a little more polished than the real events of the day it happened,” Eli said with a slight grin.

“I would venture to say, you still wear those scars, right?”

“I reckon I do have a few scars that look like they could’ve been made by a big cat’s teeth,” Eli said, picking up the clippings when the deputy laid them on his desk. Eli was reading the story Clarissa had published in the Fort Smith paper years ago, smiling as he remembered the incident.

The Exploits of a U S Marshal in Indian Territory The first in a three part Series

By: CWLillian

I’ve had the good fortune to interview two allies and traveling companions of the man I’ll write about in this series. In order to protect the protagonist and his allies, I’ll not reveal the last names of either men, in relating to you these events that have been described to me in detail. I can assure you, these accounts of bravery and bravado by a man of these times, is true, though some-what embellished with the words of a woman who knows Marshal Eli personally.

In the spring of 1875, the southernmost portions of Indian Territory had either been blessed or cursed, as the case may have been, with plentiful rainfall. It was during this time that U S Marshal Eli, and his two fellow Marshals, Moses and Duncan were sent on a mission that took them into the piney-woods of southeast Indian Territory. Thus begins this adventure, the details of which I am about to divulge.

So as to forewarn those of a more gentle and reserved nature, I’ll inform you beforehand that the accounts of this story may not be suitable for any readers who may be faint of heart!

Marshal Eli and his closest friends, his fellow Marshals, had crossed the Poteau River south of Fort Smith and journeyed on south to come upon the Poteau River Trading Post.

Just to inform those who may not be aware, Poteau translates to post from the French language and reflects the history of this part of the country before it was purchased from France in 1803, for the net sum of less than three cents per acre. Enough of this history lesson about the Louisiana Purchase, and on to my adventurous friends, The U. S. Marshals of Indian Territory.

Stopping long enough to purchase jerky and more double-aught buckshot, the Marshals unexpectedly cleared the front porch on the trading post of visitors, when the loungers and loafers saw the shiny silver stars pinned to the three men’s buckskin shirts.

Upon leaving the trading post, the Marshals took note of a family that was loading into a wagon headed south. They took special note of the two small babies wrapped in blankets and held by an older woman while the man and younger woman climbed onto the wagon seat.

Leaving the trading post at some time after the family who rode before them, they never saw the wagon or family again until the next day when they were nearing the mouth of a small tributary creek on the Kiamichi River, by the name of Bear Track Creek.

Deputy Moses had scouted for the cavalry before becoming a Deputy U. S. Marshal and had twice before traveled this region of Indian Territory. He was relating his knowledge of the area as to where the best places to camp for the night would be when he happened to speak of the cavalry patrol being stalked by what he described as a black panther, while camped on Buck Creek. This brought about a lot of discussion into the possibility of black panthers actually still roaming these piney-woods. Deputy Moses told them of hearing the squall during the night of an animal he knew to be that of a black panther!

With darkening shadows of the Kiamichi Mountains to the west of the wagon road, tall pines lining both sides of the rutted and rough trail, overcast skies, along with darkness setting in, they finally made camp on Bear Track Creek - with much apprehension of the third Marshal; Duncan. Just the name of the creek was enough to cause alarm in a such a wild and remote place as this.

Before morning, all the nearby dry limbs and branches had been piled upon the campfire to keep the area lit. Marshal Duncan was being extremely cautious.

Needless to say, the three Marshals survived the night on Bear Track Creek and awoke to heavy clouds and threatening skies as they broke camp and struck out to the south once more on the rutted logging road.

The threat of rain proved not just an idle threat, as the skies opened and the rain came down before dark. Stopping to put their slickers on, Marshal Duncan asked Deputy Moses if he thought they would make Buck Creek by nightfall - hoping all the time his answer would be - no way! Buck Creek was where Deputy Moses said he had heard the squall of a panther in the night.

Before they made Buck Creek, they came upon a loose team of horses still in harness, with blood on them. One horse had a place on its mane that looked to be a cut. The other horse had blood on its back. Not the blood of a horse.

The three Marshals determined, after a thorough examination, that one horse had been shot across its mane and the other horse wore the blood of a person.

Gathering the harnessed horses, they rode south at an even faster gallop in the muddy, rutted wagon road.

They were nearing the mouth of Buck Creek, at the point it empties into the Kiamichi River when they noticed a wagon, with the bodies of two women lying in the mud nearby.

As Marshal Eli hurried to the women, he saw right away, one was indeed dead and the other was near death. She opened her eyes and saw Marshal Eli, remembering his face at the trading post. She immediately began to plead with him to save her two babies who had been kidnapped. As she pled with dying breaths, she told Marshal Eli she knew by his eyes, he was a good and gentle man and would rescue her two babies from the two despicable men who took them. With her last gasp, she named the two men as Devil Jack Slocum and Slewfoot Jackson, two horribly wicked men who lived on Kiamichi Mountain.