All language subtitles for gunslingers_s02e05_bill_doolin_and_the_oklahombres

In 1894, let him have it, the name Bill
Doolin was on the lips of every lawman,

bounty hunter, and vigilante in the
West.

I'd set Oklahoma territory ablaze with a
crime spree that no criminal gang ever

matched before or since and won the
biggest shootout in

outlaw history.

The shooting is just absolutely
incredible.

The greatest fight between organized
lawmen and outlaws ever in the West.

Do it!

Come on with your hands up! You can go
to hell!

I rose to the top of a ruthless gang of
desperadoes known far and wide as the

Dalton. Maybe I didn't hear you
properly.

It sounds like you just called me a
clown.

Until they became the Doolins.

Doolin's involved in more criminal acts
than almost any gang in Western history.

My bold and brazen robberies made me the
target of the biggest manhunt in

Oklahoma history.

Before I was through, I had blazed my
name in criminal glory.

There's a real connection between Doolin
and the James boys with those

Depression -era outlaws from the same
region, Preboy Floyd, Bonnie and Clyde.

I lived a life of my own choosing,
knowing full well what the outcome must

Hello, Bill. But sure as hell, I'd do it
all over again.

By 1896, I, Bill Doolin, had spent many
long years living on the wrong side of

the law.

I'd seen most of my comrades -in -arms
gunned down in cold blood.

Yet I myself had managed to elude what
the law called justice.

Oh, Bill!

But now...

Facing the rifles of a determined posse,
I wondered whether the outlaw trail I'd

ridden so long had finally come.

When we remember Bill Doolin, we
remember he's a killer and a thief, but

something about him that always made him
a little more popular.

Bill Doolin actually was a natural
leader. He was a likable guy.

Looked pretty good, you know. He was
tall, rangy guy, 6 '2", 150 pounds.

He had winning ways.

You know, outlaws, just by the nature of
their business, are romanticized.

You ask any outlaw, and he'll say it was
injustice, desperation, or just rotten

luck that set him at odds with the law.

I've known plenty of criminally minded
men, and to be sure, some of them were

just plain wicked.

But most, myself included, were decent
folk to whom life had dealt an unfair

hand.

I started out in life with nothing but
my family name and a willingness to

Bill Doolin was a son of sharecroppers.

Most sharecroppers' kids helped their
parents.

So he probably worked hard when he was
growing up.

He lived in Arkansas, and when he got
old enough, he left home.

And he went to Indian Territory and
wanted to be a cowboy.

By 1891, I was a ranch hand in Oklahoma,
which was then called Indian

Territory. It was the last place in
America where a man could still live

entirely free, beyond the reach of the
law's ever -lengthening arm.

This was a place where people went to
hide.

You could get lost there. But you have
to remember how large an area this was.

It was 70 ,000 square miles.

Ranching was hard work that had paid a
living wage, and I was glad to be

employed. But then I met the soon -to
-be infamous Dalton brothers.

And from that moment on, my life would
never be the same.

The Daltons certainly wanted to make a
name for themselves.

In the 1890s, there's all these
fantastic dime novels and the

newspaper, the Robin Hood, Frank and
Jesse, Jamie Younger Brother.

This influenced them, I believe, to some
extent.

All I'm saying, I don't see why selling
alcohol to the Indians is illegal in the

first place.

I mean, you sure as hell get enough of
it anyway.

Bob Dalton seems to have been the
catalyst.

He was the one who gathered people
together, and he was the cement for the

Dalton gang.

I bet you've heard the Dalton name
painted in black as villainy.

But I knew them as decent folk, at least
at first.

They served as lawmen for a time, but
being too often cheated of their meager

pay, They turned to crime and dead.

As a matter of fact, I happen to know a
fellow who's planning on bringing in a

load next month.

When Bob asked me to join them in their
illicit trade, I hesitated at first,

figuring he was just blowing hot air.

Let's say we were serious about this
now, Bill.

You reckon you want in on the share?

Maybe.

But seeing as you're not serious, this
ain't nothing but bold talk, is it?

But the truth was, finding honest work
was becoming almost impossible, and I

grown weary of leading a pauper's life.

Well, there were an awful lot of cowboys
out of work in that period, and Doolam

was tired of being poor, and I can kind
of understand his motivations, actually.

It wasn't long before Bob put his brazen
plans into action.

and our humble band of ranchers became
robbers. They started out with

introducing whiskey.

Then they went into horse thievery,
stealing cattle.

And I think they found the excitement of
it pleasurable.

The adrenaline rush of being chased and
shot at became intoxicating for them.

Bill Doolin fell in with them, and he
was kind of a natural leader, and he

take care of himself.

He was an excellent shot.

And so all of a sudden...

He's a key member of the Dalton gang.

That is a bet I will take, my friend.

Our first robberies were successful, and
I enjoyed having money in my pocket for

a change.

The Dalton brothers were really more
partners than friends.

They were rash and careless.

But Tulsa Jack Blake was like a brother.

I never knew a steadier man than he.

Nor a cooler hand in a gunfight.

Tulsa Jack Blake was a fast straw.

Very dangerous with a gun.

Unlike Tulsa Jack, Bitter Creek Newcomb
was a carefree spirit.

And he was the very devil with the lady.

And Charlie Pierce was the finest
horseman I ever met.

As well as a trusted friend.

Is that the job money? That is.

Now I took an extra share for myself
since I pulled this all together.

If anyone minds, tell them to join some
other outfit.

What you've got on each side here are
two very strong men.

I have to wonder if Bill Doolin no
longer wants to play this game the way

Dole plays it.

Maybe we ought to think about heading
into Texas.

We're getting nowhere around here.

Well, don't you fret none, Bill.

I don't pay you to do my thinking for
me.

Bill!

Don't go running off now.

Stay close by.

I've got something big shaping up.

Right out, boys.

Although I thought Bob had grown
reckless, I kept my concerns to myself.

Until he told us of his plan for
Coffeyville.

The robbery that would be the Dalton's
last.

Simple as that.

We're in and out in 15 minutes. 20 tops.

The Coffeyville raid was Bob Dalton's
idea.

And why did he want to do this? Well, of
course he wanted the money.

But he also wanted to get a name for
himself that was bigger than Jesse

Two banks.

In broad daylight.

At the same time.

Seems like a tall order, don't it?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Come on, boys.

We clean out these two banks, head on
down to Mexico.

Well, hell, Jesse James never even
pulled a caper like that.

So who's in?

You know, that's fine.

It's great, Bill.

We can do this without you.

It's, uh, you ain't got the fan for it.

Maybe I didn't hear you properly.

This sounds like you just called me a
cunt.

Easy, fellas.

We're all friends here.

Enough talk.

Are you in or are you out?

No man alive can accuse me of lacking
grit, but Bob's half -baked plan to rob

both of the banks in his own hometown,
in broad daylight no less, was lunacy.

Good luck, fellas. You'll need it.

Come on, boys.

Tulsa Jack.

Bitter Creek, Charlie, and myself bid
the Daltons adios.

And I reckon you know what happened
next.

The Coffeyville debacle is the bloodiest
street battle in the Old West.

A huge gunfight erupted between the
would -be robbers and the townspeople

themselves.

After the smoke cleared, There were four
dead outlaws.

The two brothers, Bob and Grant Dalton,
had been killed.

And three citizens of Coffeyville had
been killed.

I mean, they paid for this decision with
their lives. I mean, they paid the

ultimate price for it.

I'd warned Bob against his foolish plan,
but he hadn't listened to reason.

Now he and his brothers were dead.

For the rest of us boys, life went on.

Doolin put a gang together with the
remnants of the Dalton gang. There's

books written about the Oklahoma Braves.
It was usually referred to as the

Doolin gang because he was the face of
the gang.

There you are. Thank you very much for
your business.

The first robbery I led was nothing like
the Dalton's death ride into

Coffinville. I made sure to strike where
no one was looking.

and where no one knew my face.

Say, mister, is there someone here I
could ask about alone?

Yes, sir, I'm your man.

300 long miles to the west of our old
stomping grounds in Spearville, Kansas.

Let me just get straight to the
withdrawal.

Hands up!

Get him up!

Come on.

Like I said, let's get straight to the
withdrawal.

Look at me. Have you lost your mind?

Is that your money?

Give that to me.

Now bag it up.

Be quick.

I'd left Charlie Pierce watching the
street, along with a new recruit we

Old Yanis.

Their job was to keep the locals under
control.

Banks are closed.

And out of harm's way.

Time to go on home.

You. Y 'all get off the street. Get
going. Time to go home.

Come on now. We knew the locals would
take up arms against us once they

we were robbing their bank.

And guess what?

You're coming with us.

But I had a plan for that contingency as
well.

The problem was that when they came out,
by then the citizens were mobilizing.

They had armed themselves.

I ran the gauntlet beneath their rifles,
trusting the vigilantes wouldn't risk

killing an innocent man.

I had no desire to shed the blood of
townspeople who'd done me no wrong.

But I made it clear that if they wanted
a bloody gunfight in Spearville, I'd

sure as hell give them one.

How the hell you doing?

Thanks for money.

I said put him down. You don't put him
down, I'm going to blow this man's head

off.

Only a few weeks had passed since the
Dalton gang had turned the rivers red in

Coffeyville.

Since then, I, Bill Doolin, had formed a
gang

of my own.

And after a bold and bloodless robbery
of the Spearville Bank, the Oklahoma

Braves were on the run.

Doolin was kind of like Butch Cassidy in
that he would set up relays for horses

for getaways after he robbed banks and
things like that. He was a smart outlaw.

I was confident we would escape our
pursuers and that this was just the

beginning for the outlaw gang already
known as the Oklahoma Braves.

Bill Doolin was a rebel. He liked
action, liked what money could bring

needed that rush, the rush of fear, the
rush of somebody shooting at you, and of

being on the lam.

With a swift horse beneath me and
trusted friends at my side, I feared

death nor capture.

The Doolin gang's first robbery was a
complete success, and there would be

to come.

Bill Doolin had a lot of leadership
quality, and he made very good

which made him a very organized criminal
and a very successful one.

As planned, we bled up after Spearville,
confounding the lawmen on our trail.

But a few weeks later, I reconnected
with the boys at our safe haven in the

outlaw -friendly town of Ingalls,
Oklahoma.

He had all these guys with nicknames,
Red Buck, Waitman, Dynamite, Dick

Arkansas Tom Jones, Little Bill Raylor,
Little Dick West, and on and on with

these guys. The Oklahoma hombres.

Even as we bathed in our success, grim
news arrived.

One of our own, Oleana, had been hunted
down by so -called lawmen.

I didn't know it then, but it was
important of things to come.

Typically, how law enforcement went
after these guys is they would find out

where their friends and family were.

And so they tracked them down, and in
the ensuing gunfight, Ole Yantis refuses

to give up, and even when he's shot
down, he's reloading his gun several

The killing of old Yanis by a man
purporting to enforce the law was a

pill to swallow.

Ladies, would you mind giving us a
moment here? Thank you.

He'd had no trial, nor been convicted,
but had been executed nonetheless.

Half the round.

Such was the state of justice in
Oklahoma.

Now you listen, boys.

Those villains will serve us the same if
they get a chance.

Well, I don't need to tell you that
we're all riding a dangerous trail,

outside the law, and we're not keepers
-robbers.

Now, each one of you here has got your
own reason for turning out law, and it's

no business of mine.

So I'll understand if anyone wants to go
the wrong way.

And do what, Bill?

Get a job?

Be it resolved, then, the Oklahoma Rays
would ride again.

And the devil take the high most.

If

the

authorities in Oklahoma Territory
thought we'd give up after they'd killed

of us, they thought wrong.

On June 10th, 1893, one of Doolin's gang
members, Tulsa Jack Blake, flagged down

the California Express, part of the
Santa Fe Railroad.

Railroad companies were my first choice
to attack.

They were always carrying large amounts
of cash.

Hey, get the hell down here, mister.
This is a robbery.

And their unscrupulous practice made
them the natural enemy of the working

I think trains were a good target
because there was a resentment toward

railroads. They thought that they had
taken all the best land, that they'd run

through people's property.

All right, boys.

Let's get to work.

Open up. They tried to get the messenger
to open the door. I ain't going to

ask you twice.

Go to hell.

Have it your way, sir.

Let's go.

All right.

Let him have it.

They're firing shots, pistol shots, in
through the door to get them to open,

there's no response.

It never fails to amaze me

when some sucker like you risk their
life.

For railroad money. Well, it's my job,
isn't it? At least it was.

I'd probably get fired for this.

Well, I do regret that, sir.

But at least you'll have a hell of a
story to tell.

You'll be all right.

Anyone thinking of firing on us or
giving chase, just remember that we

take a penny off anyone.

We got no quarrel with common folk.

But you give us cause, and we'll shoot
you right down.

It was another flawless robbery.

No one had been killed, and we left the
passengers in peace.

It was the railroad's money I wanted,
not theirs.

That's the way successful train robbers
did it, and that's the way Bill Doolin

usually did it.

You didn't want to kill anybody.

You didn't want to rough anybody out
because that's going to turn the

against you.

We'd gotten away almost scot -free, save
a lucky shot from a posse that

shattered my foot.

We scattered into the last true no
-man's land of the frontier, the cowboy

of Oklahoma Territory.

It was a very friendly area towards
them, especially in the town of Ingalls,

know, where they would spend a lot of
their time.

Ingalls essentially made a deal with the
devil. As long as the outlaws that came

to the town did not rob anyone or any of
the businesses in town, they were

welcome to stay.

And the Ingalls people liked them. They
came in and spent money. They were off

the beaten trail.

And it was also Bill Doolin's home
territory.

Look sharp, Bill.

That's Heck Thomas.

I reckon he's here looking for you.

Heck Thomas was a terrific lawman.

He was in at least ten gunfights that I
know of, and he was a fair man

and just as fine a western lawman as
there ever was.

Better step out of the way, Doc.

Yeah, I don't see anything around here.

We should check out the center on the
river bottom.

Up to now, no lawman had been able to
bring the Oklahombrays to heel.

But E .D. Nix, the new U .S. Marshal,
had orders to dismantle the outlaw class

in Oklahoma.

And he put his best men on the case.

Abbott, Dumas, Nix.

He had authority over 70 ,000 square
miles criminal activity.

E .D. Nix had permission to stop the
outlawry in Oklahoma at any cost, and he

didn't care if he had to kill these guys
or not.

And sometimes killing them was an easier
thing to do, too.

Mr. Nix was bound to determine he was
going to take these outlaws out. He was

going to get them.

Harsha? I had mastered the outlaw's
trade that killed the Dalton gang, but

faced a fearsome trio known as the Three
Guardsmen.

Bill Tillman, Heck Thomas, and Chris
Madsen were the

bravest lawmen west of the Mississippi.

Let's get right to the matter at hand,
shall we? I have reason to suspect the

Doolin gang could be found right here in
Ingalls.

And before the year's end, they would
draw me into the bloodiest gunfight the

West would ever know.

Dolan! You're completely surrounded!

By 1893, I had become one of the most
successful outlaws in Oklahoma

I had pulled off eight heights in just
two years and raked in more than 30

in cash.

Bill Doolin put together a very
efficient group of bandits and killers

a lot of robberies in Oklahoma.

September 1st, 1893.

dawned like any other day in Engle.

In the morning, the entire gang, with
the exception of Arkansas Tom Jones, are

in the saloon.

They're drinking. They're playing cards.
They're having a great time.

Arkansas Tom Jones is sick, and so he's
upstairs in a hotel room.

We had no idea that by sunset, we'd
blaze a new chapter in the bloody

the Old West.

Marcel E .D. Nix had sent a dozen of his
best lawmen to Corrales, and among them

was at least one genuine Old West hero.

Jim Masterson was a famous lawman from
Dog City, and the younger brother of Bat

Masterson.

He knew his business, and he at least
knew what he was getting into.

You folks might want to go inside.

Jim Masterson, Bat's brother, rarely
gets credit because of his brother,

He was an efficient lawman.

And Jim Masterson got involved in more
gunfights than both of his older

put together.

Oh, I knew him. How are you supposed to
be going down to Guthrie?

Oh, that's right.

Nixon's deputies came not to serve us
warrants, but to shoot us down like

beasts.

And once again, it was a lawman who drew
first blood.

All of a sudden, gunfire.

It's just the beginning.

Cover me, Jordan.

Bittercrete just galloped out of town as
quick as he could. He was hit, and his

rifle was broken, and he couldn't help
them.

Even the sick Arkansas Tom Jones is in
the action.

He's shooting out at the posse from his
upstairs window.

Most of the outlaws were covering Ransom
Stallone.

There were later 172 bullet holes
counted in the walls of Ransom Stallone.

Although none of the outlaws were hit.

Meanwhile in the town, five people have
been gunned down.

One of them, a kid, was shot fatally.

Stallone! You're completely surrounded!

You better go.

The Doolans know that they're
surrounded, where horses are in a livery

around the block.

And all of them, armed, come bursting
out of the saloon.

Some of them go to the livery. They jump
onto their horses.

By the time they leave town, they left
in their wake at least six dead people,

including three deputy marshals and
Arkansas Tom still in his hotel room.

That son of a bitch don't come down.

I'm going to blow that hotel to pieces
with him in it.

Jim Matheson wanted to blow the entire
hotel of smithereens with dynamite to

him out, which pretty much convinced
Arkansas Tom that it was time to

He saw the game was up, and he knew that
these guys, you know, were not going to

take many prisoners.

And when they told him that his pals had
all galloped out of town and left

him there, he was, according to all
reports, very deflated about it.

My God, Officer, I didn't want to hurt
nobody, I swear.

If you want to make it to jail alive, I
suggest you shut your mouth.

Get him!

So, Doolin has escaped.

This time, the bad guys won.

Mr. Nix was bound and determined he was
going to take these outlaws out. He was

going to get them.

The Oklahoma Territory was so rife with
banditry that he basically said, shoot

them all, ask the questions afterwards.

We'd escaped the murderous ambush sprung
on us by E .D. Nix's guardsmen, but we

didn't emerge unscathed.

Bitter Creek Newcomb was badly wounded,
and poor Tom was sentenced to 50 years

in prison.

Following the Ingalls raid, Doolin was
basically running for his life at this

point, as were the other members of his
gang.

When will you be back?

I don't know.

I'll send Mark.

Now the name Bill Doolin was on the lips
of every lawman, vigilante, and bounty

hunter in Oklahoma.

And all of them are eager to cash in on
my corpse.

All right, listen up.

I'm hiring up a posse this afternoon.

I need five men, horses, and rifles.

Each man will share the reward.

From that day forward, I was America's
most wanted man.

Hello, Bill.

The law!

That duct up in Ingalls made me, Bill
Doolin, the target of every lawman and

bounty hunter in the territory.

But the smoldering heat didn't deter the
Oklahombrays.

We continued to ply our trade to
perfection, pulling off one successful

after another.

For a time, I thought we'd lose the law
forever.

But in truth, our days were numbered.

On April 3rd, 1895, Doolin and his
Oklahombrays robbed the Rock Island

And things did not go well.

They didn't expect any real pursuit, but
Chris Madsen was a pretty alert lawman,

and he put together a posse real
quickly.

And when they rode up, it appears that
Tulsa Jack Blake was on guard.

We got you now, you bastards.

Hocus off, you boys.

We're getting a little bit close behind
them.

Paper might signal.

We'd already had close calls with E .D.
Nick and the three guardsmen who'd

dogged our trail the length and breadth
of Oklahoma.

This time, Chris Madsen got a step ahead
of us.

And no doubt he thought he'd bring us
back as either prisoners or corpses.

But Tulsi Jack Blake, God rest his soul,
saved us from disaster.

One of the posse men brought him down
with a bullet near the heart that killed

him instantly.

Jack's demise after so many faithful
years at my side was a terrible blow.

But he died with his boots on, a free
man until the very end.

And again, the Doolin gang escaped, as
they had been doing for a long time and

would for not too much longer.

More and more of them were picked off.
They didn't have a chance, which really

upset Doolin and made it worse for him.

After Tulsa Jack, Bitter Creek Newcomb
and Charlie Pierce were the next to bite

the duct.

Murdered in their beds by bounty
hunters.

Well, you know, it was 1896.

And at that point, he should have looked
around. All the bad guys, all the guys

that had ridden with him, are getting
killed by this time.

The West had become a hard place to be
an outlaw in.

And he was kind of hoping to go
somewhere else, maybe New Mexico.

But, you know, the bottom line is, what
was he going to do there? It's hard to

imagine him living the life of an
ordinary farmer.

With Oklahoma papered over by wanted
posters bearing my name and suffering as

was from wounds received over years of
outlaw life.

I decided to regain my health in
Arkansas, far away, I presume, from the

presence of bounty hunters and lawmen.
Bill Doolin had taken a severe wound in

the foot.

This had been a couple of years earlier,
but what happened is it turned

rheumatic, and he had terrible pain.

He decided, while he's on the loose, to
go to Eureka Springs to take the waters,

and maybe that would relieve his pain.

An informant told Bill Tillman about it.
He goes to Eureka Springs. Almost

immediately, he encounters Doolin.

Bill Tillman, already well known as a
very talented, successful buffalo

tracker, good man with a gun.

Bill is famous in Kansas, almost mythic
in the state of Oklahoma.

Old Bill had spent years on my trail,
hoping to bring the infamous Bill Doolin

to heel.

Now, it seemed, his moment had come at
last.

Hello, Bill.

Deputy Tillman.

Looking well?

Don't make me blow the top of your head
off.

Thinking of my family, I hesitated.

When in earlier years, I'd have sent
Tillman to meet his maker.

You let me walk out of here without
wearing handcuffs, I'll give you my word

I'll come quiet.

Get your hat, let's go.

Hillman caught me fair and square.

And unlike his murdering colleagues, he
had the decency to let me surrender

peacefully.

I was faith and life in prison if
convicted.

But I had no intention of ever standing
trial at all.

Unlock this door, Danny, or I'll blow
this man's head off.

After years of living on the run, the
law had caught up with me at last.

Hello, Bill. I knew Bill Tillman, and he
wasn't a man given to making empty

threats.

You let me walk out of here without
wearing handcuffs, I'll give you my word

I'll come quiet.

But I also knew he was an honorable
lawman who'd let me live if I

without violence.

Ladies.

The story is when Bill Tillman captures
him, he's talked Doolin into pleading

guilty, and they won't hang him. They'll
give him 50 years in prison.

As you've probably guessed by now, there
was no way in hell I was going to wait

around for a trial.

Well, after Bill Doolin was arrested, he
knew what it felt like to be locked up.

Considering all the crimes that he
committed in his whole career, this is

only night he ever spent in jail.

which is kind of remarkable for someone
with that resume.

I determined right away the guards were
comically inept.

Breaking out would require only
leadership and daring.

Naturally, I rose to the occasion.

They kind of figured out the guards.

One inmate would try a ruse that would,
you know, make them open up the gate.

Hey, guard.

I'm going to drink a water.

Could you fill me up?

And so he tried to force this larger cup
that he had that wouldn't fit through

the bar.

They got the keys,

opened up themselves.

And they got a gun from one of them.

Calm yourself.

It'll be over soon.

Unlock this door, damn you. I'll blow
this man's head clean off.

Within minutes, I was out of jail and on
the loose.

And I resolved never to step foot in a
cell again.

I would live as a free man or die
crying.

After Bill Doolin and several
Confederates broke out of jail,

him. Tremendous manhunt.

He is hiding out at an old hideout of
his, and he would come in every night

see his wife and kid.

They had people looking for him, and
sure enough, they found him.

Again, I felt a strong premonition of
danger.

But then at the time, I was accompanied
by an acute sense of dread.

Somehow, I knew there could be no
escape.

It was ultimately Heck Thomas who hunted
Doolin down.

Bill!

And so Heck Thomas had the reputation of
always giving a warning before he shot

somebody, and he gives Doolin a chance
to give up.

I stood alone, helplessly surrounded by
men who were eager to profit from my

death.

I had reached the end of the outlaw's
path.

Well, Bill was not...

About to go gently into that good night.
And Doolin goes for his Winchester.

Bullets and a shotgun blast are going to
end Bill Doolin's criminal activities

forever.

Never again would I feel my wife's
heartbeat against my own, nor the rush

galloping horse beneath me.

Death claims from all of us the joys we
cherish most.

But I had died game, surrendering to no
man, and went to my grave without

regret.

And of course, one of the most famous
death portraits of the West is the

of Doolin Riddle by 21. Bullet holes in
his...

Bill Doolin is shown shirtless, lying on
his back, head turned to the side, eyes

still open.

Many bullet holes on him, and each one
looked like about the size of a quarter.

And so his career of outlawry ended
violently, as did that of most of

the guys that ran with him.

I think that Bill Doolin deserves more
recognition than he's gotten over the

years. He was a wily outlaw, and he
wasn't bloodthirsty either.

We got no quarrel with common folk.

Maybe I didn't hear you properly.

This sounds like you just called me a
cunt.

It's kind of ironic that Doolin, of all
the outlaws, probably did more to bring

peace to the Oklahoma Territory than
anybody else.

because of all the heat that he drew
from law enforcement.

Doolin, he makes it impossible for
lawmen who actually sort of like to, to

let him go.

How's Edith?

Oh, she will not be pleased with me.
They have to bring him in, and they have

bring him in with his boots on.

Bill! Paul!