THE LONG COATS--- start of book

[RONALD FEASEL]

CH. 1
The eleven riders where perched on a rise staring intently at the billowing puffs of smoke. The smoke was in rhythm with the chug-chug-chug of the Iron Buffalo named by the Cherokee Indians (ta-lu-gis-gi yo-ni-si). Bill Doolin with his Wild Bunch sat motionless on their steeds in the hot afternoon sun, sweat staining the band of their cowboy hats. Their guns hanging secure in the leather holsters. Dolan is squinting under the brim of his hat at the oncoming iron buffalo, no one moved as they waited for the signal. His steed was at rest, head hanging low, and ears flopped to the side. A slight nudge of Spurs would revive the beast quickly.
Bill shifted in his saddle, the horse`s ears shot up and twisted facing bill, it was time. The spurs dug in causing a chain reaction in the remaining ten riders. The Long Riders were ready to ride. He leaned back as his horse headed down the crested butte, the horse’s mane flowing on his descent signaling the intended direction. The eleven riders resembled a dust avalanche tumbling down the butte, in a triangle formation with Bill at the point. The long dusters they wore gave them a surreal appearance, flowing behind the riders like wings of death.
The heads turned in the train to inspect this onslaught of wild riders firing at the Sun, with their long coats following like shadows. With their guns firing into the blue creating a Fourth of July bang up. Bill spurred ahead aiming for the head of the Iron Buffalo. He reached out holding the saddle horn for stability as he grabbed the steel handle, then in a swoop of coordinated mastery his boots drove him home as his mount rode off. Swiftly he clambered onto the logs in the timber car behind the head of the iron beast. He crawled, looking like a lizard stalking its prey.
The engineer snatched his double barreled shotgun eager to shoot the desperado he knew had invaded his domain. The revealing top of the cowboy hat appeared just above the logs, the double barrel spoke with authority, `Kabang`. The hat flew off like a frightened crow as the blast caught hold. I need to stop this engineer and get this train stopped, my men cannot be letdown. Bill deftly crawled to the side and locked his knees, and then in a bold move hanging over the side with one hand locked in a grip to the beast and with the other gripping his revolver, he had a clear shot. The train was weaving and the smoke and cinders from the smokestack were burning his eyes but Bill held steady as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet found its mark and the engineer doubled over falling off the train and under the steel wheels, clacking and tasting the engineer.
Bill pulled the brakes and the Iron Buffalo screeched sounding like a hundred hawks with sparks flying as the iron legs dug in. The Wild Bunch dismounted whooping and hollering firing their guns, reveling in their conquest.
The passengers were ordered off the train in single file, and told to disrobe all except their undergarments. The gang went through the clothes and jewelry they were wearing as others rifled through the luggage. The mail boxcar yielded $3,000 dollars making the total haul was $4,500. With glee they mounted, rode off whooping, and shooting their colts.
After the robbery a sheriff`s posse was formed from Beaver County, Oklahoma Territory. The posse had gained on the gang using a reliable Cherokee scout. Scout Menawa or scout Charlie as they nicknamed him. He had a sixth sense tracking. He second guessed the gang`s direction, and took a convenient short-cut to gain on the desperados.