Chapter 71

The Waco Kid never raised his head as he reached out to pick up a stick and thrash it across the bedroll nearest him. “Get your asses up, we got a score to settle this morning and I’m ready to get started!” he said loudly.

The other men began to stir in their bedrolls and The Waco Kid rolled over to sit up. He had yet to look up as he pulled his boots on, then picked up his two pistols and shoved them down in his holsters. He stretched his arms over his head, wincing at the pain in his ribs, just as he looked up...

“GET UP YOU LAZY BASTARDS. WE GOT COMPANY!” The Waco Kid yelled when he stood and saw Ezra just a few feet out in front of him.

The other men came out of their bedrolls, throwing blankets and canvas aside as they sat up wide-eyed, pulling their boots on and grabbing for their pistols.

“Where’s your fucking brother? The one called Eli Crow Junior. Did you come out here alone? You’re a fucking dumb Indian, you must have,” the man cussed as he looked at Ezra.

Ezra never spoke, he just stood looking at the man, then jerked his head sideways toward Little Eli with a grin on his face.

The Waco Kid continued to stare at Ezra, “What’s the matter? You got something stuck in your crawww...” His voice trailed off as he turned just enough to see Little Eli standing not twenty feet from him.

The other five men were standing, hurriedly buckling their gun belts around their waists as they looked around the circle at the other Crow boys.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Waco Kid? You got something stuck in your craw?” Little Eli said as he looked at the man.

“What are you two fucking Indians doing here in our camp? I told you once before that you’d keep on and I’d kill the whole lot of you! Where’s your fucking brothers? What was that name they called all of you? The Young Bastards?” The man said and laughed as he turned his head to look back at his friends.

The grin on his face froze, turning to fear as he looked around to see the Young Bucks standing in a circle inside his camp.

“What were you saying. Mr. Waco Kid? You Texas coward. You had to have five men come with you to see Marshal Crow. Are you afraid of the dark? What’s the matter, Mr. Waco Kid? You got something stuck in your craw?” Little Eli taunted the man.

The Waco Kid stood with both hands out to his side, just a few inches from his two guns.

“You’re gonna die, Mr. Waco Kid! You just had to come back, didn’t you? You and your friends are gonna die right here and rot. We told you not to come back,” Little Eli spoke with a growl.

“Look, Kid, we don’t want to kill any of you,” another of the men said, looking around at his friends.

“Just see if you can kill me, you son-of-a-bitch!” Ezra said shouted.

“You’re nothing but a bunch of kids and you’re gonna get yourselves killed if you keep on!” the man yelled as he looked at Ezra.

“Pull that gun or die like the coward you are, you son-of-a-bitch! That was my sister you grabbed last night,” Ezra said as he faced the man.

“You can’t beat me on the draw, you crazy kid. I’m gonna show your ass,” the man said, his hand already going for his gun.

Ezra killed the man!

Fanning his Colt three times, the three 45 slugs ripped through the man’s heart before his hand touched his pistol grip and Ezra now stood grinning down at him.

With The Waco Kid still facing Little Eli, as soon as there was gunfire, the remaining four men from Texas reached for their handguns. This was exactly what the other four Young Bucks wanted. They pulled their Colts and shot the four men as soon as they moved their gun hands. None of the Texans even touched their guns.

The bullets ripped through each of the four mens’ right shoulders and blood was running down their arms dripping on the ground as they bent forward holding their arms.

The Waco Kid had turned to see his friends failing to even get their guns out when Little Eli yelled at him, “What’s the matter, Mr. Waco Kid? I thought you were gonna kill me!” Eli taunted as the Waco Kid jerked his head to look around at him quickly.

“You there, Mr. Waco Kid. You carry two fancy, shiny Colts. Can you use the them? Or is the other one just for show to make you look like a bad man down there in Texas?” Little Eli yelled at the man, still taunting him, wanting the man to draw his gun.

“I’ll show you, you son of a...” the man’s hand was going for his gun when the bullet hit him in his right side just above his hip and spun him around.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Waco Kid? You got something stuck in your CRAW?” Little Eli yelled as he stepped closer to the man.

“Leave him be, Kid. He’s my younger brother. He’s shot through and through and bleeding already,” one of the other men who had been shot in his shoulder yelled and Little Eli turned to look at him.

Before he could say a word, Micah was right in the man’s face.

“You want a 45 slug in your mouth instead of your brother? Was that what you were asking for?” Micah shouted and the man turned to face him. His left hand was shaking, his fingers quivering ... but he reached for his pistol grip left handed, just as the other four Texans did at the same time. They knew this was their last chance.

The remaining men who had ridden up from Texas with The Waco Kid died instantly when the 45 slugs slammed through their hearts.

“Mr. Waco Kid, your brother and your friends are all dead now. They can’t help you. Do you remember when we warned you that if you ever came back to Tulsa, you’d die and your rotten carcass would be gnawed on by the turtles and catfish? Do you remember that?” Little Eli asked as he stood facing the man, no more than six feet from him.

He never looked up. He never answered.

“Talk to me, damn you! You were so big and bad when you had five men backing you. Have you turned coward now that you’re alone?” Little Eli yelled at the man.

The Waco Kid looked up, letting his eyes meet Little Eli’s eyes. He realized Little Eli still had his gun in his holster.

With his left hand moving in a blur, The Waco Kid reached for the gun on his left hip. Before he could even get it out of the holster, he heard the click when Little Eli fanned his hammer back.

“You’re nothing but a Texas coward, Mr. Waco Kid. I ought to shoot you dead right here, but I’m not going to kill you in cold blood,” he told the man, dropping his Colt back in his holster as the man watched.

The Waco Kid suddenly reached for his gun once more with his left hand. He never touched it as Little Eli drew his Colt and shot the Texan in his left shoulder before the man even realized what had happened.

“You just had to try, didn’t you? You just had to see if you could get at least one shot off.

“Remember this Mr. Waco Kid, I could have killed you just now, but I didn’t. I have something better in mind for you.”

Pike walked up to the man and loosened his double holster rig, letting it fall to the ground at his feet, both his shiny Colts still in place. Isaac picked his gunbelt up and held it across his arm as they looked at Little Eli.

“Let’s get him on his horse; we’re going for a ride.” He growled.

With the man sitting on his horse, his bloody arm hanging down to his side, they mounted and led his horse toward the river.

Just outside the small town of Tulsa, Little Eli pulled up.

“Let’s get him off his horse.

“Damn it, I can’t just kill him in cold blood!” Little Eli said.

“Then let me,” Ezra said. “I’ll kill his sorry ass.”

“No, Ezra. We’re not killing a man in cold blood. I promised Dad we wouldn’t,” Little Eli told his brother.

“Then what are we gonna do with him, Eli?” Isaac asked.

“Strip him naked, we’ll take his horse and clothes. If he can make it to Doc’s before he bleeds to death, he can live.”

“Mr. Waco Kid, you get one more chance to live. BUT, if you ever come back here again, or if any of us Young Bucks ever set eyes on you again no matter where we are, we’ll kill you on sight,” Little Eli said as his brothers took their knives and cut his bloody clothes off him, leaving him standing naked in the dirt street with his boots on.

“Hold his hand on the ground, Ezra. I got one more thing I need to explain to him in a way he’ll remember what I just told him, since he didn’t remember the last time,” Eli told his brother.

Ezra kicked the man’s feet from under him, making him fall in the dirt, naked and bleeding, one arm dangling as he sobbed, crying openly as he tried to catch himself.

“Open his hands and put your foot on his fingers.”

When Ezra had done what Little Eli asked, he and his brothers knew what was about to happen.

Little Eli pulled his hatchet and with the hammerhead pointed down, he drove the blunt end through the back of the man’s hands, crushing his knuckles on both hands.

The naked man was screaming as he rolled in the dirt. He was bent double, pulling his bloody hands close to his body. The bones in his hands were crushed, his fingers swelling, bruised and bloody. He was still bleeding from his shoulder and side.

“If you hurry, you can make it up the street to Doc’s place before you bleed to death. You’ll see it up there on your left. If you drag around about it, you’ll die here alone and they’ll find your body laying in the dirt when the town starts to wake up.”

They pulled the man to his feet and pointed him in the right direction. As he started slowly walking, they mounted and rode behind the buildings to watch the naked, blood and dust covered man stagger a few steps before getting his feet under him.

The man had to walk almost a hundred yards to reach Doc’s clinic, but he made it, and when the door opened they saw Doc pull him inside and close the door.

The Bucks rode back to the camp where they stripped the dead men of their clothes, pistols, and all their belongings.

“Eli, I know you’ll want these, they belonged to The Waco Kid,” Pike said as he handed Eli the double holster rig with the two shiny Colt Peacemakers in it.

They wiped out all signs of them being there, then took the horses to the river where they threw the saddles into the deepest part. They led the horses back toward Tulsa and took the bridles off them, then led them into the corral behind the livery stable.

From there, they rode over to the constable’s house outside of town and Little Eli knocked on the man’s door while the others waited on their horses.

“What’re you Young Bucks doing out so early on a Saturday morning?” The man asked as he stepped outside, slipping his arms through his galluses, pulling them up over his shoulders.

“We were looking for a few calves that had strayed across the river during the night when we came upon a campsite back over west of town. Looks like there may be five dead men there with their clothes stripped off. We didn’t take a lot of time looking around. We just thought you might want to have a look,” Little Eli told the man.

“I’ll get a few men together and go have a look. Thank you Bucks for stopping by to tell me. Must be some more of this violence we’re having with the organizers and the sympathizers.”

“You may be right, Sir. Like I said, we just stopped to look when we saw the camp smoke, then we decided we’d better tell you and let you handle it.

“I could tell my dad about it later when we get home, if you want me to,” Little Eli told the man.

“No need in him gettin’ out on a Saturday. I’ll round up some men and we’ll collect the bodies.”

“Eli, are you gonna tell Dad about this?” Ezra asked as they took their saddles off in the barn and turned their horses loose in the feedlot.

“Maybe one day, but not right now. I don’t want this talked about either. Not to our sisters, not to anybody. We’re Blood Brothers and we have an oath!”

“We’re just glad we got to take care of that bunch from Texas and especially that Waco Kid. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on him since we let him ride the first time,” Ezra said.

“I smell biscuits and bacon. I reckon we better get in there and eat. They’ll be looking for us,” Little Eli told them, raising his fist to extend it toward them. With a shared look around at each other and a quick nod, they put their fists together before walking toward the house.

Tulsa, Indian Territory
Crow Ridge Oil Terminal
March 1, 1889

Early in the spring of 1889, Carl and Donald Franklin’s men were finishing the construction of Crow Oil’s new office and warehouse located near the oil loading terminal. Jon David was already moving into his new office as the men finished up. He had recently closed a deal to have a telephone line run from Vinita, along the railroad, using the same utility poles the telegraph wires were strung on. The projected date of service was June 1 of this year.

With telephone service coming to the Crow Oil office, plans were included to have a second line ran to the homes on Crow Ridge. A party line of course, since the cost was prohibitive to run a separate line for the office and each of the homes all the way from Vinita.