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I never liked family feuds very much. I always thought they were exaggerated — like some people's stories about the best food or the best honeymoon. Still, if you will allow it, I will tell you about a small feud in the Indian Territory. I was there as a kind of helper, and as an observer. I followed the people, told others about them, and tried not to get in the way.

At that time I was staying at Sam Durkee's ranch. Sam was about twenty-five years old and very tough. He could take danger without showing fear, though sometimes he felt afraid inside. His ranch was rough. I spent my days falling off wild ponies and waving at the distant wolves with my bare hand — a foolish thing to do, but I liked it.

Across the line in the Creek Nation lived the Tatum family. The Durkees and the Tatums had been enemies for years. Several men from each family were already dead. People expected more trouble. A new generation was growing up, and they learned the same hatred.

Yet their fighting had a rough kind of order. They did not attack women or children. They did not hide in cornfields to trap a man by his suspenders — partly because there were no cornfields and men wore only one suspender. The feud had rules, as strange as that sounds.

Sam Durkee had a sweetheart. Her name was Ella Baynes. She lived in Kingfisher, twenty miles from the ranch. Sam and Ella were devoted to each other. They trusted each other like two people in love usually do. Ella was pretty, with a heavy mass of brown hair. Sam introduced me to her one day, and she smiled in a way that made me sure she liked him.

One day a young man came to Kingfisher. He looked a little out of place. He was small, clean-shaven, and liked to dress well. He asked many questions about the town and the people who lived there. He said he was from Muscogee and gave his name as Beverly Travers. I met him once when I went to town for the mail. He had yellow shoes and a fancy scarf. His name, I thought, did not sound real.

Sam was busy on the ranch, so he did not go to town often. This left me to ride in for small things — postcards, flour, tobacco, and letters from Ella. One day, while I was running errands, I saw that same young man in a yellow-wheeled buggy. He was driving Ella Baynes around town. He looked very proud of himself. I did not tell Sam when I returned. I thought the news would not please him.

The next afternoon, an old friend of Sam's named Simmons 1 out from Kingfisher. Simmons kept a feed store. He 2 many cigarettes before he would speak. When he began, 3 told Sam a terrible thing.

"Sam," he said, "that 4 who calls himself Beverly Travers — he is Ben Tatum, 5 of Old Gopher Tatum. Your Uncle Newt shot Old 6 last February. This morning Ben killed your brother Lester. 7 shot him in the courthouse yard."

Sam listened and 8 a dry twig from a bush and chewed it 9. He said, "He did, did he? He killed Lester?"

"10," said Simmons. "And he ran away with your girl, 11 Baynes. People saw them drive off together in a 12. They had a big bundle of clothes in the 13. They went on the Guthrie road."

Sam answered like 14 man who had heard bad news many times. He 15, "I am much obliged, Jim. Thank you for riding out to tell me."

Simmons left, and Sam took out a knife and cleaned some dried mud from his boot. For a moment I expected him to shout a wild oath or to call for revenge. But instead he asked, almost calmly, about dinner. "I wonder if the cook has any cold beans left?"

He called Wash, the ranch cook, and told him to heat the beans and make strong coffee. Then we ate in Sam's private room, where he kept his saddles and guns. Sam took three or four six-shooters from a bookcase and looked them over as if he were thinking about them. He had two good horses saddled and tied by the hitching-post.

We ate fast and then left the ranch. Sam rode hard toward the east. He wanted to catch Ben Tatum and make him pay for Lester's death. I rode with him. On the ride Sam talked of ordinary things — the weather, the price of beef, and music. He spoke as if nothing had happened.

We reached Guthrie by night. In a little hotel, at a table across the room, we saw the fugitives. Ella sat at a table in a brown dress with a lace collar and cuffs. Her face was covered by a thick brown veil down to her nose. A young man sat beside her. He was dressed plainly and had very short hair.

Sam sat quietly. He told me, "There's a rule among white men in the Nation that you cannot shoot a man who is with a woman. That rule has never been broken. So I'll wait. I'll find another chance."

After supper the pair left the hotel. We followed them again and again. The chase was long and tiring. At the Chandler hotel we met again in the dining room. We sat at our table and ate apple pie. Sam watched them quietly. Then he said something that made my blood run cold: "There's a rule you can't shoot a man in the company of a woman, but by thunder, there's no law to stop a man from killing a woman in the company of another man!"

He reached under his arm and quickly pulled out a Colt's automatic. Before I could move he fired six times into the woman's body. People screamed. Chairs fell. The "woman" fell forward, her head on her arms across the table.

People ran to help. They raised him from the floor. He was alive — but he was not a man in a woman's dress. He was Ben Tatum.

Yes — Ben Tatum had disguised himself as a woman. He had believed that the rules of the feud would protect him. He had used the code as his shield. Sam had used the same code against him.

Ben Tatum died soon after. The trick had failed. Ben Tatum made a mistake when he thought a dress and a veil could protect him. That was the technical error that cost him his life.