The Death of Bob Gilstrap

Some more local color, if you can handle it, this one from 125 years ago come Christmas. Pardon the length.

In the local rag, an article headlined Wild Days During Local Oil Boom contained this story, among others:

One of the first recorded killings in the settlement of Bartlesville occurred on Christmas Eve in 1889 on the steps of Jacob Bartles’ store, according to the “Washington County: A Centennial History” book. Two cowboys, Bob Gilstrap and Frank Leno, got in an argument about one owing the other money. Preparing for a showdown, Gilstrap told the store clerks to “clear out,” then he went behind the counter, picked up some cartridges and loaded his gun.

Gilstrap left the store first, slamming the door in Leno’s face, then turning and firing his pistol through the glass door at his adversary. Leno answered back with a round of lead that flattened Gilstrap. He died on the front porch but Leno miraculously survived when Gilstrap’s bullet was stopped by the heavy clothing he was wearing.

Now the way I heard it…

Gilstrap was a "half-breed," half white, half probably Cherokee. And he was, by reports, a bum. He and Leno would be dropped on whatever job it was they were doing, Gilstrap would take off right behind the foreman, and not show back up until shift's end. Repeatedly. One day, paytime came early and Gilstrap missed it. Leno felt it was his due to take Gilstrap's pay as well as his own. They didn't see each other again until…

Walking around with rifles Christmas Eve was no big deal. Not that unusual in the first place, there was also a turkey shoot that day; every man had 'em. So, when Gilstrap and Leno met up on the street Christmas Eve, they were both armed. Gilstrap challenged Leno for "his" money, Leno wouldn't budge. They got to threatening the way young bucks do, and Leno said let's settle this the hard way. Gilstrap argued that he didn't have any ammo. Leno pulled out a coin and tossed it to Gilstrap, who caught the coin, spat on it, and threw it back in the dirt at Leno's feet, Gilstrap said he actually had money.

They both went in the store for Gilstrap to purchase some ammo. Clearly, they were bristling, because the clerk pulled out his shotgun, and told the two punks, I don't care what you two do to each other, but you're not doing it in here. That's how I heard it, anyway.

The shootout through the door matches what I recall. Gilstrap lost, in any case. They had to wait a day, what with it being Christmastime, before they could get a coffin down from Dewey, a few miles north. They then loaded Bob Gilstrap's body on a wagon, and headed down that muddy road toward Tulsey Town. Several miles south of town, they pulled across the Gilstrap family farm, and up to the graveyard, on the rise above the floodplain.

Bob and his sibling and their parents' graves are all in a row in the cemetery, to this day. A local oil speculator (which 'most everybody who could be was back then) bought the Gilstrap's farm, but never found any oil there. He gave the property to his daughter and son-in-law as a wedding gift. His son-in-law left it to his son, who died untimely and left the property in an unfortunate tangled partnership of siblings. Eventually, after decades of neglect, and years of refusal to change things, Milady and I were allowed to acquire the place from my siblings, and we have lived here the twenty years since.

I've been kind of neglectful in taking care of the Gilstraps' markers. They're laid-flat stones, so they get buried when we cut the grass, and I have to go dig them out periodically.

My version is from memory, but, mostly right, I think. I've told it a few times.