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G. W. Slater |
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| Slater, G. W.
Field Worker: John F. Daugherty Date: March 18, 1938 My parents were Thomas Slater, born in New York and Kittie Gaither Slater, born in Tennessee. Father was a blacksmith and carpenter. I was born in Tennessee, August 22, 1863. I came to the Indian Territory in 1890, settling near Tahlequah in the Cherokee Nation. I worked on the Walker Ranch. We shipped our cattle from Fort Gibson and Muskogee. I also freighted for the Tahlequah merchants, from Fort Gibson and Muskogee. Those were principal shipping points in the Cherokee Nation. One night my 'pardner' and I were coming from Fort Gibson with two wagon loads of freight and we stopped on Fourteen Mile Creek for the night. We had built a camp fire to cook our supper and had set the coffee pot on it when a bunch of outlaws rode up. On looking up I discovered it was Cherokee Bill and his gang. Cherokee Bill shot the coffee pot full of holes, and shot the fire out, and shot holes through a showcase loaded on top of our freight. He then knocked the remaining glass from the showcase. As they started on, one of the boys said, "Bill, that doesn't buy you anything. Why did you do it?' He replied, "I have to keep in practice with my shooting." I searched through the wagons and found an old bucket, which we used to make our coffee. The next morning we got up early, cooked a bite of breakfast and started for Tahlequah. It was still quite early when we came to the turn in the road near the Widow Duck's. After going around the curve we discovered a crowd of men in front of us around a hack. We found it to be Cherokee Bill and his gang robbing the mail hack. We were helpless so we sat by and watched the job well done. There were two passengers inside the hack, a man and his wife. They tried to escape, but were shot down like dogs in the road, and left there, after the outlaws had taken what possessions they had. The mail sacks were then robbed, and the hack was driven on down the road. These hack drivers were never robbed by this gang, although they robbed the passengers and mail every few days. We notified some of the settlers in this vicinity and the bodies of these two passengers were buried by the side of the road. Both the Male and Female Cherokee Seminaries were located at Tahlequah. One night the hack drivers were all sitting around the livery stable when a call came from the girl's school that they had received a message from the home of two of the students that a brother was dying and they wanted to go to Fort Gibson that night. The owner of the livery stable said he would find someone to make the trip. He turned and asked who would go. They all refused, because they knew Cherokee Bill would hold up anybody passing that way. At last an eighteen year old boy said, "If you'll give me a certain team I'll go." The stable man agreed, and the boy went to the school for the girls. As usual when they reached the bend, Cherokee Bill rode out and stopped the hack. He peeked through the curtains and seeing only the two girls, said to the driver. "It is only two school girls, eh?" When the driver told him it was he told his gang to step back and let them pass. One day I was deputized by a United States Marshal to help capture this treacherous gang. We started after them and they left the Cherokee Nation, going into the Osage Hills. We stayed on the north side of the Arkansas River. When we came to the present site of Tulsa there was only a rawhide lumber store building here. We went in to purchase something for lunch and the old man who ran it, was very much excited. He said, "They came in here and robbed me of most of my goods. If you will catch that gang I'll give you what you want to eat." We told him we were on their trail, and he told us the direction they took after leaving there. We followed them and that evening we saw them on a distant hill, standing in the entrance to a cave. There was no chance for us to get to them without being killed, so we exchanged shots with them for awhile. Only one of our horses was shot. We had to leave them and return to the Cherokee Nation. The following spring I lost four horses and searched the country for them. One day I found a herd of about a hundred horses in the bend of the Verdigris River, north of Fort Gibson. I rode among them and found my four. "Well, this is luck", thought I, and I had put the rope on the second one when I looked up and found to my dismay that I was surrounded by Cherokee Bill's gang. I pretended that I didn't notice them and when I started to rope the third horse, Cherokee Bill raised his gun and said, "You can't have those horses." I replied that they were mine. He said, "They're mine now/" But I said, "You can't do that." He said, "I can, and I will." One of the boys who knew me said, "George, you had better leave the horses here. I'll bring them over to the Greenleaf Hills some day soon." I saw it was no use, so I turned my horses loose. As I started to ride away Cherokee Bill said, "Tell John Brown we will open a keg of horse shoes and nails and have nail soup if he will come over and take breakfast with us." John Brown was deputy United Stated Marshal. I later saw him and told him of my experience with Cherokee Bill. I also told him what Bill had said, and he said, "I guess I don't relish nail soup." I married in 1899 and we moved into a log house near Tahlequah which had been built before the Civil War. It was owned by a full blood Cherokee Indian named Chovey. It had a puncheon floor and I decided to take up the floor to clean dirt from beneath it. While scraping up the dirt, we found silverware, and jewelry in abundance. I began to inquire where this came from. The old Indian was dead at this time. I was told that in the very early days, Jewish peddlers came from Kansas, Missouri and Arkansas through the Cherokee Nation, selling their wares. One day a peddler came through selling silverware and jewelry. the old Indian Chovey killed the peddler, robbed him and buried his body along with his merchandise under the floor of this old house. My wife was in favor of moving when she heard this story. I attended the Cherokee Strip payment in 1894 at Tahlequah. The full bloods would have nothing but gold and silver. I lived near an old full blood named Granny Bushyhead. One day I wanted some change and I went to her house for it. I presented a $5.00 bill, and asked her if she could let me have five silver dollars for it. She said she didn't like that kind of money, but she would give me the change and spend the bill the next day. I asked her why she didn't like the bills. She replied, "White man fool Indian with them. They can't tell one bill from the other.", which showed me why they refused currency. If they bought a dollar's worth of merchandise, they were afraid of giving the merchant a $5.00 or $10.00, instead of a $1.00 bill. When they had the 'white money all same size" as they called silver dollars they knew how much to pay for what they bought. This old Indian took me into the house and asked me to move a large trunk, which I did. There was a loose board in the floor. She raised this up and pulled a water bucket of silver and gold money from beneath the floor. She counted out five silver dollars for me, and when I handed her the bill she tucked it away in her dress, saying, "Spend him tomorrow. Don't like that kind." She replaced the bucket of money and asked me to put the heavy trunk in place. I was living north of Braggs in the early 1900's. One day Jim Green, a cowboy, and I were gathering cattle. We rode into Braggs for a bite to eat, just as the Verdigris Kid and his gang were robbing the town. The dishes had been shot from the table at the small hotel where we went to eat. Pandemonium reigned. Everybody was excited. I met United States Marshal Hiram Stephens and told him I would be glad to help capture the outlaws. We went behind this hotel, and took our places at the corner of the building. One of the gang started around the corner and we shot him and his horse. This started a real battle. Other citizens came to our assistance and after a thirty minute battle we had killed them all but one. His name was Butler. He was trying to get out of town and was shooting back toward us. I had no more ammunition, so I picked up a gun belonging to one of the gang. It had a globe sight on it which brought the object to be fired at, near. I sighted and fired. Butler's gun fell from his hands and he rode away speedily. We never heard of him again, so we didn't know whether he was fatally wounded or not. At the end of the battle there were thirteen dead men and twenty-seven dead horses. Those were very exciting days. Transcribed by Brenda Choate & Dennis Muncrief, January, 2001.
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