Rufus Buck Gang
There was nothing of Robin Hood in Rufus Buck, the young Yuchi (non-Muskhogean Creek) fullblood who, in his small way, was as vicious as Cherokee Bill and coupled with it a depravity rare even among Indian outlaws. He was born and raised near Okmulgee, in the Creek Nation. It was in that country that he committed his first robberies, minor crimes but so successfully carried out that three young Creeks, Sam Sampson, Meome July and Lewis Davis, were attracted to him. A fourth man, Lukey Davis, by name, a Creek Negro mixblood, accepted his leadership.
It was commonly believed that a mixture of Creek and Negro blood was a dangerous cross, and that the offspring of such a union was sure to be "mean." It was true enough in the case of Lukey Davis, but there would seem to be little reason to accept it as generally so. For several hundred years there had been a strong infiltration of Negro blood into the Creek tribe, more so than with the Cherokee, Choctaw and Chickasaw. Few Creeks were a hundred per cent Indian. Undoubtedly intermarriage had had some effect on Creek culture. That it worked any tribal character change or was responsible for the inflamed criminal instincts of some Creeks, such as those with whom Rufus Buck surrounded himself, must be dismissed as absurd.
If the life of the Buck Gang was brief-a year would cover it - it was deadly while it lasted. In midsummer of 1895, they killed four men, committed half a dozen robberies and raped a middle-aged widow by the name of Wilson, all five of them taking a turn at ravishing her, which set a record for criminality even in the sanguinary history of Indian Territory.
On Snake Creek, a trifling stream that heads near Sapulpa and flows into the Arkansas, they carne to the cabin of Henry Hassan. It was lonely country, and Hassan and his wife knew nothing about the red trail their visitors had left behind them. They told him they would pay Mrs. Hassan if she would cook them a good dinner. She was happy to oblige. She was a comely woman. When they finished eating, instead of paying her and riding on, they forced her husband out into the yard and took turns guarding him while the others violated his wife.
Later in the day, they met a horsernan, who was astride a goodlooking animal. They surrounded him and said they wanted to trade horses. The stranger demurred, only to discover that he was going to trade whether he wanted to or not. The exchange was made and the man jogged away on the horse they had given him, glad to escape with his life.
East of Sapulpa, they encountered a traveler named Callahan. They robbed him of all he possessed, and then, to amuse themselves, they opened fire on him as he fled to safety. He raced into town with news of what had happened, The Creek Light Horse (Indian police) went after the Buck Gang but failed to find them. Posses of Indians and posses of whites took to the field. They had no better luck than the police.
Boldly, the Buck Gang rode into Okmulgee and robbed a store. Before the day was finished they robbed two more stores, some miles apart. When they saw a horse they fancied, they offered to trade for it. If the owner said no, they shot him and took the animal. Almost within sight of Eufala they met a Negro boy walking to town. Apparently for no better reason than to enjoy seeing him twitch as he died, they killed him.
They had the country terrorized by now. As the number of their crimes mounted, farm families feared for their lives. Then, suddenly, no more was heard of them for several months. With winter at hand, it was presumed they had holed up somewhere. The hunt for them continued, however.
With the opening of spring, U.S. Marshal S. Morton Rutherford came out from Fort Smith with a brigade of deputies, among them reliable Heck Thomas, Paden Tolbert and Bud Ledbetter. It took them weeks to track down the gang. The outlaws were camped in a mott of live oaks, three miles south of Muskogee, when Rutherford and his deputies surprised them. A furious battle, in which several hundred shots were fired, began at once. There was a hill behind the camp. Rufus Buck and his companions retreated to its highest point and held off the attackers for hours. When their ammunition was exhausted, they had no choice but to surrender.
Hands manacled and in leg irons, the prisoners were put in a wagon and taken into Muskogee. It was Marshal Rutherford's intention to hold them in the federal jail there overnight and take them by train to Fort Smith in the morning-. But news of the capture of the Buck Gang preceded their arrival in town, and when the wagon bearing them turned up North Third Street, an angry mob of several hundred armed men made a rush for it and tried to drag the cowering wretches away from the officers and string them up at once. It was a Creek mob, ninety-five per cent so. As it surged about them, held off only by the pistols of Rutherford and his deputies, Rufus Buck, Lukey Davis and the others knew only too well that their crimes had outraged their own people and that they could expect less mercy from them than from white men.
The prisoners were hurried into the jail - a flimsy, wooden building, a story and a half high, surrounded by a stockade of pickets. Outside, an interruption took place. General Pleasant Porter, at that time the principal chief of the Creeks, climbed up on the empty wagon and appealed to the mob to disperse. He reminded them that Marshal Rutherford and his deputies would protect the prisoners with their lives. "They are brave men," he told them. "Let them take these killers to Fort Smith in the morning, where judge Parker will see that they pay for their crimes."
The mob refused to listen. Men were surging against the stockade as Rutherford stepped out, a rifle cradled in his arms. He could only say what other marshals and sheriffs have said in similar circumstances. It was largely an echo of what Pleasant Porter had told them. He added a warning. "We captured those men. Though their hands are stained with blood, I intend to see that. they are given a trial according to law. You may batter down the door and overpower us, but I warn you that the first man who comes through that gate will be shot."
As mobs will, it was slow to break up. Imperceptibly at first, men began to drift away. Half an hour later there was no one left in front of the jail. The night passed quietly, and in the morning - it was Sunday - there was no demonstration as Rufus Buck, Lewis Davis, Sam Sampson, Meome July and Lukey Davis were marched to the railroad station. Fort Smith was going to church when their captors led them down Garrison Avenue in chains to the Fort Smith prison. It was a spectacle that the town was never to see again - five murderers being escorted to their doom.
In due course, they came to trial. The verdict was guilty. Parker sentenced them to death - a sentence he was to pronounce only once more before his court was abolished. Usually there are some expressions of sympathy for men who are about to die, especially when they are young. If there were any when the Rufus Buck band was led to the gallows' steps and placed on the hinged platform where so many others had stood, they were voiced silently by relatives. With a show of bravado, the five men called to acquaintances among the spectators before the black caps were pulled over their heads. A moment later the trap was sprung and they were sent plunging into eternity. It was, the local press agreed, a good day's work, well done.
|Links & Recommended Sites | Oneliners, Stories, etc.|
|About The Spell Of The West | Link To Us | Site Navigation | Parting Shots|
My Other Sites:
Cruisin' - A Little Drag Racin', Nostalgia And My Favorite Rides |
The Eerie Side Of Things |
It's An Enigma |
That"s Entertainment |
Just For The Fun Of It |
Gender Wars |
Golf And Other Non-Contact Sports |
JCS Group, Inc., A little business... A little fun... |
John Wayne: American, The Movies And The Old West |
Something About Everything Military |
The Spell Of The West |
Once Upon A Time |
By The People, For The People |
Something About Everything Racin' |
Baseball and Other Contact Sports | The St. Louis Blues At The Arena |
What? Strange? Peculiar? Maybe.
Questions? Anything Not Work? Not Look Right? My Policy Is To Blame The Computer.