The Doolin Gang.

On the morning of April 9th, the first sign of troubling weather with more than nature allows was certainly a challenging moment with the threat of hail and a twister or two. In my lifetime, I had experienced what Texas tornadoes could do but lived to remember the events.
It was our farming community which concerned me. The Wheat farmers especially if it did hail then the crops would suffer. As a boy when my Poppa was alive, we had a bad hailstorm costing the life of young calves.

It looked as if we were in for two different storms, the telegram I received from Sheriff Clark warned of another type of storm.

An Arkansas born boy who had grown to be an outlaw had a gang made up men wanted by the law for various crimes. They were calling themselves, the Bill Doolin gang who did crimes not far away in Oklahoma, Indian territory.

Although Sheriff Clark said they would never drift toward us, it would still be wise to keep watch in case.

I always paid attention to what the man advised and spent time in silent prayer. I was hoping we would remain a peaceful community. However, time would tell. If Bill Doolin, and his bunch come our way, then we were ready as we could be. I had no doubt it would gun play and innocent people hurt or killed.

I went to my office and tried finding information on the subject but there was little to learn. An old wanted poster on the man never said much but only a $2500 reward and a rough sketch of what he looked like. I had nothing concerning any of his gang and doubted I would know them if they did come. My hope lay with Kelley and his distinct way of learning who he was serving.

The weather would be little concern if the Doolin gang hit our tiny town. No doubt the bank was first on their list, and it would take time before a posse could track them. They were smart and would do their mischief in the rain with the hope of their tracks being washed away.

I must admit, the thought of dealing with so many outlaws sent me to Pastor Reynolds requesting prayer. It was certain me and what few men who volunteered was simply no match for such.

Late evening at home during our evening meal, I was vexed and hardly touched the food . Lucy, the wife asked, "Care to tell me the problem?"

I had no intentions of telling her and made excuses claiming worry about the hail destroying the wheat and how much of a loss it would mean to the community.
She took my hand and softly said, "Lets pray God will spare us any destruction."

The following morning, the sky was clear, not one storm cloud in sight. I marveled at what my oldest boy, Paul, said. "Dad, with mother's prayers, God always answers."
As I walked out the door, I responded, 'Yes, sure seems that way."