While it would’ve been great to do another trip abroad this summer, it just wasn’t in the budget. After last year’s unforgettable honeymoon, trying to buy a house, and juggling both of our busy work schedules, we decided: not this year.
But even if international travel wasn’t in the cards, we weren’t willing to miss out on culture or historic moments.
As I’m sure most of you know by now, the 2026 FIFA World Cup is taking place in North America. We honestly didn’t know what to expect or even if we’d be able to get tickets or afford them, but we did.
So on Monday, June 15th, we made our way toward Kansas City.
We started the drive by swinging through Claremore to drop off our dog, Penny, then headed up through Coffeyville, Kansas. We stopped in the town square, and Talon asked if I wanted to see where the Dalton Gang was killed.
Now all you Kingfisherites know the Dalton name, but for anyone who doesn’t, the Dalton Gang were infamous late-1800s outlaws from the Kansas and Oklahoma Territory region. In an attempt to outdo even Jesse James, they rode into Coffeyville on October 5, 1892, planning to rob two banks at the same time in broad daylight. It didn’t go as planned. The town quickly recognized them and armed citizens took up positions across the square. What followed became one of the most famous shootouts of the Old West. In roughly 12 minutes, four members of the Dalton Gang were killed, along with four townspeople who defended their community. Today, Coffeyville preserves that history through the Dalton Defenders Museum and historic markers throughout the downtown square.
The museum wasn’t open when we were there, but we still spent about 20 minutes slowly walking the square, reading the plaques, and listening to the events that unfolded there on October 5, 1892. Standing in that exact place, it felt different than reading about it or seeing it in passing. You could almost trace the movement of it all just by standing still and taking it in.
Standing there, it’s hard to grasp how much history happened in such a small place.
What made it even more meaningful for us was the connection. I am from Kingfisher, Oklahoma, where the Dalton name is still very much part of local history and storytelling, and my husband’s grandparents are from and have deep roots in Coffeyville, Oklahoma. Even though these places are not close in distance, they are tied together through shared regional history shaped by the same era of boom towns, railroads, outlaws, and settlement that defined the American frontier. It made the stop feel less like a coincidence and more like a thread we were unknowingly following.
From there, we continued on toward Kansas City, World Cup tickets in hand, realizing that even without boarding a plane this summer, we were still stepping into something global, cultural, and unforgettable in its own way.
