The Life and Death of the Almost Legendary Outlaw, M.T. Chamber
Chapter Two
The Daring Coffeyville Bank Robbery Attempt
Following the ill-fated robbery attempt of the Wichita to Dodge City Stagecoach and prior to Fannie Oakley accidentally shooting M.T. Chamber with her shotgun while polishing his pistol, the M.T. Chamber gang attempted another daring robbery, this time of the Coffeyville Bank. To M.T.’s way of thinkin’ it would be easier to hit a target that wasn’t moving.
This time M.T. had a plan. He planned to ride over to Coffeyville and rob the bank. That was all the detail he figured the gang needed. (If brains wuz bullets, those boys couldn’t load a Derringer.)
It was more than a day’s ride to Coffeyville so M.T. went to Ya’ll Mart a couple of days before the planned robbery to pick up some supplies. All he could afford was one of those giant cans of pork and beans, the kind you find Ya’ll Mart. The gang had asked him to get some of those re-fried beans they’d eaten with the Mexican bandits who’d gotten lost and ended up in Kansas. M.T. told them again he wasn’t eatin’ no leftovers. Mexican food gave him bad gas anyway. Wild Bill Hiccup had given him beer money so he picked up some of that generic beer. He’d never heard of it before but it was the cheapest so he bought it and kept the change.
The gang left in the early evening and rode ‘til dark. It was only a few more miles to Coffeyville and if they got up early they could easily get there by the time the bank opened, or at least before it closed. Tired and sweaty from the day’s ride, they stopped to set up camp for the night, water the horses, eat some grub, and try some of that new generic beer. There were just enough beers left for the four of them, as Wild Bill had a beer both times they stopped to go to the bathroom.
The M.T. Chamber Gang consisted of M.T. Chamber, of course; Wild Bill Hiccup, a recovering alcoholic; Wyatt Burp, no relation to the Earps and thinking about going to rehab his self; and Jesse Jane. Jesse Jane was no lady; he just dressed like one. He had been blessed with a rather ample feminine-like bosom since childhood. When he went on cattle drives as a young man all the other cowpokes poked fun at him, some had even proposed marriage. (It gets pretty lonely out on the trail.) He also, quite frankly, preferred to ride side-saddle. Other parts of his body were equally well endowed and rubbing against the saddle horn tended to get him excited.
As soon as they got to camp M.T. started barkin’ orders to the gang. “Jesse, take the horses down to the river and give ‘em some water. Wild Bill, you go with him and put the beer in the river to chill it. Wyatt, you gather up some firewood and start a fire.”
“What are you gonna do, M.T.?” Wyatt asked.
“I’m gonna open this can of beans. Unless you boys think you can stick your forks in there and eat them beans without openin’ the can!”
The boys headed out to do their chores and M.T. started fumbling around trying to open the can of beans with his knife, he’d forgotten to get a can opener at Ya’ll Mart. His knife was as dull as the rest of the gang and all it did was puts dents in the lid of the can. Opening the can was going to take awhile at this rate, but M.T. figured he had time. They had stopped for the night at a clearing in the woods; Wyatt wouldn’t be back with the firewood anytime soon. Come to think of it, the clearing was actually a pretty fair distance from the river; Wild Bill and Jesse probably wouldn’t be back for awhile either.
Wyatt was the first to return to camp. He stacked the firewood, what little he could carry in one trip, in a pile and reached in his pocket to find his matches. “Damn! You got any matches M.T.?”
“I left my lighter at home. I thought you had the matches, that’s why I asked you to build the fire.”
“I guess I left my matches at home too.”
“You’d better start rubbin’ a couple of those sticks together then, unless you want cold beans for supper.”
When Jesse and Wild Bill returned, Wyatt was still rubbing two sticks together and M.T. was hammering at the lid on the can of beans with the butt of his pistol.
“Either of you guys got a lighter?” Wyatt asked.
“Or a can opener?” M.T. added.
The boys were starvin’ so they decided to just eat the beans cold. Wild Bill came up with the idea of shooting a hole in the can and pouring the beans out of the hole. (He had polished off two more cans of beer at the river waiting for the other two to get cold.)
M.T. sat the can of beans on the stump of a tree that had been cut to make the clearing in the woods. The four of them got their rifles out and took turns “shooting” at the can. At their turn, each one of them pointed his rifle at the can and pulled the trigger. All you could hear was the click of the hammer, they still hadn’t figured out they needed to load their guns.
“You boys can’t hit squat!” M.T. shouted, and threw his hat down on the ground.
“You ain’t hit it yet either!” Jesse replied.
“I uh, think my gun’s jammed.”
“Yeah, mine too,” Wild Bill said.
“We can’t all have jammed guns,” M.T. said, scratching his head. “Maybe we just need a little more target practice.”
They gave up on trying to open the can of beans and split the remaining two beers between them. M.T. figured there had to be a Ya’ll Mart in Coffeyville and he would pick up a can opener with the money left over from buying the cheap beer, after the robbery. If he had any money left he would pick up a lighter as well.
The M.T. Chamber Gang cast short shadows as they rode into Coffeyville the next afternoon. They would have been there earlier but they lost their rooster in a cock fight with the Mexican bandits they had met in Kansas a couple of weeks before and there was no one to get them up at the crack of dawn. M.T. made a mental note to pick up another cock before their next robbery.
They stormed the door of the Coffeyville bank, “firing” their guns in the air. The old man behind the teller’s window apparently didn’t hear the clicking and just kept dusting the counter.
“Are you deaf old-timer!” M.T. yelled.
“Huh?” the old man said, kind of startled. “Can I help you boys?”
“We’re here to rob this here bank,” Jesse said.
“Bank’s closed, little missy.”
“What do you mean the bank’s closed?” M.T. asked.
“It’s Saturday.”
“Saturday? I thought it was Friday. Feels like Friday to me, doesn’t it to you boys?”
“Feels like Wednesday to me M.T.,” Wild Bill said.
“I told you not to use my real name you idiot.”
“Sorry M.T.”
“Now look here, what’s your name, Pop?” M.T. asked.
“Gunn.”
“Look here Pop Gunn, we rode all the way over here to rob this here bank and we’re gonna rob it, Saturday or not. Open up that safe.”
“Ain’t no money in it,” the old man replied.
“How can you have a bank with no money in it?” Wyatt asked.
“Emptied the safe last night and sent the money out on the last stage to Wichita.”
“Damn, we just came from Wichita, M.T.!”
“I told you not to use my real name Wild Bill!”
“The stage has a lotta stops to make; if you’re on fast horses you could probably catch it before it gets to Wichita,” the old man offered.
“Oh, hell no,” M.T. said. “We ain’t chasin’ no more stages.”
“What are you gonna do for money when the bank opens if you sent all the money to Wichita?” Jesse asked.
“The saloon drops its deposit through that little slot in the back door on Sunday night. There’ll be plenty of money then, won’t be anybody here though, on Sunday night.”
“You wouldn’t tell nobody we was here if we decide to come back Monday and rob the bank?” M.T. asked.
“Not my money,” the old man replied, then paused for a moment, thinking out loud, “’Course, if it was me I think I’d just mosey over to the saloon and rob it.”
“Not a half bad idea. I like the way you think old man. Whatd’ya think guys?” M.T. asked.
“Brilliant.”
“I’m likin’ it.”
“I am kind of thirsty,” Wild Bill said.
“How’d you like to ride with us old timer?” M.T. asked.
“My wife keeps tellin’ me I need a hobby.”
“You got a gun?”
“Yep. Even got one named after me, there was an old boy sellin’ popguns at the County Fair just last week over in El Dorado.”
“Grab your popgun Pop and let’s go. You’re now officially a member of the M.T. Chamber gang.”
As they burst through the swinging doors at the Short Stick Saloon, Pop fired his popgun into the air. Nobody in the Short Stick noticed, but M.T. liked the little cork tied to a string that popped out of it. He knew then what he was gettin’ the boys for Christmas.
Wild Bill was thirsty and wanted a drink before they went any further with the Saloon robbery. As he offered to buy the first round, the rest of the boys joined him at the bar. Before they were even seated a lady of the evening joined them and introduced herself.
“Hi boys, I’m Cow Patty.”
Cow Patty had a rather large beer gut but made up for it with even larger breasts and a more than ample backside. Come to think of it, she did loosely resemble a cow.
“Well hello, Cow Patty. You are one big slice of a woman,” Wild Bill said, taking her hand and kissing it.
“You boy’s lookin’ for some company?”
“Are you talkin’ to any one of us in particular, or the whole gang?” M.T. asked. He couldn’t tell ‘cause Cow Patty had a sort of walleye, just in one eye, so you couldn’t quite figure out who she was lookin’ at.
“I don’t know; I’ve never been with a real outlaw before.”
“You’re not now neither,” M.T. replied.
Cow Patty offered her services to the whole gang, only M.T. declined. He may have been an outlaw, robber, liar, sinner, drunkard, a smoker and a midnight toker, but he wasn’t no cheater-except at cards. Besides, he still had his eye on Booty Hill, his wife Fannie’s sister.
After the boys went upstairs with Miss Cow Patty, M.T. ordered another whiskey and put it on Wild Bill’s tab. From across the room he noticed some of his old gang, Jesse James and the Youngers, playin’ poker. He decided to go over and say hi and maybe get in on a little of the action.
Turns out the James-Younger Gang was planning to rob the Coffeyville bank Monday mornin’, after the saloon made its deposits. They had come early for the weekend to play in the Texas fold ‘em Poker Tournament. Little did they know, M.T. and his boys were planning to rob the saloon later that night.
M.T. lost the money he had left over from buying the cheap generic beer in the first hand he played. He spent most of the rest of the night reminiscing with the James boys and the Youngers and buying rounds for the house on Wild Bill’s bar tab. He figured they’d get the money back when they robbed the saloon.
The James-Younger gang finally headed for their rooms at the hotel across the street. M.T. passed out on the poker table until the barkeep tossed him out on the street. He woke up with a hangover and felt pretty bad. Not as bad, he figured, as the rest of the gang would when they woke up next to Cow Patty.
The saloon was closed on Sunday mornin’. M.T. wondered where his boys were, they usually didn’t take that long. He found ‘em in the alley behind the saloon, sleepin’ off another night of drinkin’ and passion. Oh, the life of an outlaw. M.T. figured he would wake the boys up and take them to Sundy school to kill some time until the saloon re-opened.
The saloon opened up right after Sundy school got out and by then the boys was mighty thirsty. They went straight to the bar, where Wild Bill settled up his tab and immediately started another. The boys ate and drank all day and ran up quite a tab, knowing they wouldn’t have to pay it until after they robbed the saloon later that day. Cow Patty wouldn’t let them run a tab so they had to do without the pleasure of her company.
M.T. Chamber and his gang passed out and got tossed out in the alley long before the Saloon closed on Sunday night. They never did get around to robbin’ the Short Stick Saloon. It was kindly late when they finally woke up on Monday mornin’.
“Damn,” M.T. said, throwing his hat to the ground. “We forgot to rob the saloon again!”
“How am I gonna pay my tab?” Wild Bill asked.
“We’re goin’ back over and rob the bank.” M.T. hoped the James Gang hadn’t gotten there first.
M.T. called the boys into a huddle to lay out his plan for robbin’ the bank. It was real similar to the first plan. It consisted of them linin’ up behind him while he went up to the teller, shoved his double barreled shotgun in the teller’s face and demanded all the money. Again, he figured that was about as much of a plan as those boys could remember.
They went into the saloon for a drink before they headed over to rob the bank but the bartender wouldn’t give them one until they settled up their account. It was just as well. M.T.’s mama had always told him, “Don’t drink and rob banks,” or was it, “Don’t drink or rob banks.”? There’s a huge difference.
The boys saddled up their horses and rode across the street to the Coffeyville Bank. When they got there, there was a big sign on the door that read,
Closed.
Turns out it was Memorial Day and, as far as I know, M.T. Chamber was the only outlaw in history to try to rob a bank,
twice, on a three day weekend.
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Topic: Chapter Two: The Daring Coffeyville Bank Robbery Attempt (Read 10820 times)