DEAD OR ALIVE
Bill Posey Was To Be Taken Either Way
How An Outlaw Kept His Word and Died Game

July 18, 1877—Cherokee Advocate—Eufaula, I. T.—June 22-- "Killed him while resisting 
arrest," is the return to be made by Sunthlar-pee of Uchee town, Captain of the Creek 
Light Horse, in the case of Bill Posey, one of the most notorious and reckless 
daredevils of the gang of Texas, Indian Territory and Kansas desperadoes; horses and 
cattle thieves, that have been tested this country for years.  Death to all who stood 
in their way, and robbing from all but their friends, had been their motto.  With 
headquarters in Kansas and Texas, their trail has led through the Indian Territory 
from Coffeyville South through the wilderness of that Osage Reservation, crossing 
the Arkansas River near Childer’s Ferry, the through the Creek and Chickasaw Nations 
to Denison or Fort Worth, Texas.  Tens and of thousands of dollars, worth of stock 
have been stolen from Texas driven north through the Territory, always in charge of 
some outlaw along the route, driven by hidden and unused trails through a country so 
apparently settled that often days would elapse with out a human being insight to 
identify either the stock are thieves.  Picking up cattle feeding on the range belonging 
to the Indians, their droves were always increasing; the loss to the citizens of the 
Creek Nation became unbearable.  Among this band Bill Posey,
An Escaped Convict from the Texas penitentiary was a skilled, daring an influential 
leader.  A Spanish Mexican with a claim to Indian blood in his veins, Posey has made 
his headquarters on Cane at Creek, Polecat and Arkansas River's, drifting back and 
forth as occasion required, always armed to the teeth.  With a long Spanish knife and 
3 six- shooting revolvers in his belt and a 16 loading Henry rifle loaded with buckshot 
and a disposition to use them at every opportunity, he was an unpleasant person to meet 
and the terror of the road.  For several years he had been a member of the gang in Texas.  
No less than 29 criminal indictments had been found against him in various counties in 
Texas, the charges ranging from petty larceny to highway robbery and from assault and 
battery to the hanging of his brother-in-law in the front yard of his residence, in the 
presence of his agonized family.  Bill Posey had wealthy and influential relatives 
living in Limestone and other counties in that State, who had managed to screen him 
until about four years ago, when he was arrested, tried and sentenced to five years 
in the penitentiary.  He had served out 20 months of his sentence, but so turbulent 
had he been that he inspired a feeling of terror even among the prison officials.  
Bucking and gagging, flogging, or showering failed to subdue him and he was put in the 
chain gang and set to work on the streets in charge of guards.  All working one day with 
a twelve pound  ball attached to his leg he watched his chance, struck down one of his 
guards with a stone, snatched his gun and “Stood Off” four of the guard.
	He called on the prison authorities with oaths to come out and re-arrest him and 
he would kill them all for their cruel treatment.  Holding all the duty officers at bay 
he slowly retreated towards some horses feeding near.  Getting a horse between himself 
and the guard, he coolly picked up the ball, slung over the horse, mounted and rode off 
in safety to his father's house, where he up security his own gun, revolver and a good 
horse and again crossed the line into the Indian Territory.  While at his temporary home 
on Cane Creek, two Deputy United States Marshals attempted his arrest; to this he asserted 
and ask them into the house to dinner before leaving for Ft. Smith.  With four revolvers 
pointing at his head he coolly walked into the house with them, placed chairs and ordered 
dinner quick for the three and went about making preparations to leave.  Suddenly he 
reached under his low couch, brought out his six shooter, sent one ball through the thigh 
of one Deputy and another through the eye of the other and drove them from the house.  
He ordered them to throw up their hands and then coolly ask for the warrant.  This he 
destroyed, compelled the tout witted conquered officers to go in and partake of the meal 
prepared for them and let them go back to report their failure.  He vowed never to be 
taken alive, and
He Kept His Vow
	He lived for a part of the time on Cane Creek, midway between Muskogee and 
Okmulgee, built a block house, surrounded himself with a set of desperate criminals and 
bid the defiance to all the marshals of Texas or the Territory.  Here for 15 months, he 
had been on the scout.  During the day, he never, for a moment, laid down his arms.  He 
slept always with his belt of arms on the bed before him and a sixteen shooting Henry 
rifle in his hands a fresh horse was always saddled near the door and no man was ever 
permitted to approach him unless he was covered by the in veritable rifle.  Stimulated 
by the heavy reward offered by the State of Texas, many attempts were made to arrest and 
numberless traps laid to catch him off guard.  Nearly every Deputy Marshal in the Territory 
had tried his best to get the "a drop on him," but failed.  He defied them all.  They have 
often met him in the streets of Muskogee and Okmulgee when they were the three to one, 
but were afraid to attempt his arrest.  His reckless bravado led him, out a pure cussedness 
to put in an appearance of amid a crowd of men, visiting stores, whenever supplies were 
needed, or taking a set in church amid the worshipers, armed, and taking care to keep the 
saints always to the front.  So great was The Fear He Inspired, that when he appeared at 
any cabin in a hurry, the best horse afforded was always placed before him, and no questions 
asked.  His name was not spoken above a whisper, and when the Indian Journal, dared to 
connect his name with the robbery of 80 head of cattle up the river, the office was 
visited by a armed Lieutenant (and shot to death in Texas), bearing orders from his chief 
to demand an apology and containing a threat to visit the office in person, if not complied 
with.  An audacious invitation to visit, The Journal office in offering him the freedom of 
the sanctum, amused him until other events raised the siege.  The United States Marshal 
and deputies had given up all hope of taking him and gave him a wide berth in their rides 
through the Territory for criminals.  A few weeks since the governor of Texas made a 
requisition on the Chief of the Creek Nation, through the United States Indian Agent, 
for his arrest and return to the Texas the officials.  Chief Ward Coachman placed the 
necessary papers at once in the hands of Captain Sunthlar-pee, of Uchee town, with orders 
to bring in.
“Bill Posey, Alive or Dead”
	On Friday last and they Captain learned that Posey had visited Okmulgee that day 
and had a wounded finger amputated and had left, going toward the Arkansas River.  All 
that night with a posse of two picked men, they followed on his trail, and Saturday 
evening they came up on him near Concharte town, on Pulled Creek, driving some stray 
horses ahead of him.  He was well mounted as usual and disdained to run from three Indians.  
The Captain ordered him to surrender and throw up his hands.  The fight commenced.  Posey 
reached for his ever present rifle, but his lost finger was in the way and before he could 
bring it to bear a load of buckshot went crashing through his right arm, breaking it above 
the elbow.  As the limb at his side dropped he drop the rifle, drew his revolver with his 
left and emptied two of the chambers, when another mass of buckshot broke his left arm.  
Spurring his well, trained horse, he charged full speed at the Captain, knocking him and 
his horse over the bluff into the Creek below.  Posey then wheeled upon the posse, who 
stood their ground, firing at him with their revolvers.  The orders to take him dead or 
alive must be obeyed.  The fight was now at close quarters.  Riddled with bullets and 
shot, the flesh torn from his hips, both arms broken, he continued the fight trying to 
ride down the officers.  Captain Sunthlar-pee had again joined his posse, this time on 
foot.  A well aimed shot from his revolver tore off Posey’s nose completely.  It seemed 
Impossible To Kill Him.
	 Still he refused to surrender.  Their revolvers and nearly empty, it looked as 
though he would again escape, but the last shot from the Captain's revolver struck him 
in the Chen, breaking history all and went crashing up through the his brains.  Mangled 
almost beyond recognition, game to the last, he fell dead from his horse, making good 
his oft repeated boast, "that he would die but would never be taken prisoner."  On Sunday 
last the citizens buried Bill Posey and doubtless the balance of the gang of thieves will 
be driven out of the Territory.  To much praise cannot be awarded the Creek authorities, 
Chief Ward Coachman and Sunthlar-pee with his brave posse, for ridding the world of one 
whose crimes are seldom equaled and whose daring bravery, if directed in another cause, 
ould have been worthy of admiration.