The two men laughed. “Remember that, mister, and you might stay alive. Now, get on about your business and leave this be. This ain’t none of your concern.”
Nodding, James rode on toward town. He felt an itching in his back and knew that the rifle was still pointed at him. It took every ounce of strength to resist breaking into a gallop, but he was certain that if he did, the man with the rifle would shoot.
Bannack:
As 1862 began there was only a handful of white men, and almost no white women or children, in the area which had been, in succession, a part of the Louisiana, Missouri, then Dakota territories. Only later would it become Montana.
Few people had even heard the word Montana, and fewer still had any interest in the place until a man named John White discovered a rich placer deposit on Grasshopper Creek.
White wasn’t the first to discover gold in Montana. There was some placer mining on Gold Creek near Hell’s Gate (later renamed Mis soula), where James and Granville Stuart had been panning gold earlier in the year. Then, M.H. Lott and his party discovered gold in the Big Hole River drainage, just over the hill from Grasshopper Creek.
Ironically, John White was looking for Lott when he stopped to pan dirt on the Grasshopper and made the biggest strike of all. It was his find that brought thousands of gold seekers from all over America. John White’s discovery also led to the founding of the town of Bannack. Bannack would go on to become the first capital of the newly created territory of Montana.
When James rode into Bannack the first time, he saw a boomtown of over three thousand people, all of whom had been drawn by the hope of striking it rich. Not everyone who came to Bannack planned to get their gold out of the ground. Many came to make their fortune from those who got their gold by digging, thus the town was fully developed with saloons, restaurants, stores, and two hotels.
Unlike two decades earlier when it took treasure seekers from three to six months to reach the goldfields of California, Bannack could be reached by a combination of train, boat, and coach, in just over three weeks from almost any city in the East. That accessibility contributed to the boom and created a ready market for the Golden Calf Cattle Company’s herd.
As soon as it was known that James was bringing in a herd of cattle to sell, he had three contractors bidding for his business. The only disappointment was the fact that the cows brought a little less than he had thought. He left Texas thinking he could make fifty dollars a head, but the offers ranged from twenty-nine to thirty-seven dollars.
James sold for thirty-four dollars a head. That wasn’t the highest offer, but it was an offer of cash, whereas the others wanted to pay by bank draft, redeemable in St. Louis. James had no intention of going to St. Louis for his money.
Returning to the herd, James told the others what he had learned, and explained the deal he had made.
“I think you shoulda taken the thirty-seven dollars,” Luke Scattergood said. “I mean, thirty-seven dollars is better than thirty-four. Even I know that.”
“Yes, but if we take the thirty-four dollars, we can leave here with cash in hand,” James said. “The other deal would require us to go to St. Louis for the money. If the money was really there, and if we could get there. Don’t forget, there is a war going on.”
“I think you did the right thing,” Bob said. Billy quickly agreed, as did Duke.
“I think it was the right thing as well,” Revelation said.
“Well, of course you would think that. You’re stuck on him,” Luke said.
“But she’s right,” Matthew said. “Cash in hand is better than a bank draft in some far-off place.”
Reluctantly, Luke accepted the fact that the deal was made.
Everyone turned out to watch as James and the others drove their herd down Main Street to the cattle pens at the other end of town. There was excitement in the air, as people contemplated adding roast beef and beefsteak to what had become a monotonous menu of pork, chicken, and wild game. The townspeople were also fascinated with the idea that this herd had been driven all the way up from Texas, along the Bozeman Trail, right through the heart of hostile Indian territory.
As the cattle were driven into the pens, Milton Poindexter, the contractor who bought the herd, and James kept a head count. They did this by putting a knot in a strip of rawhide for every tenth cow. There were several rawhide strips, and each strip had ten knots. The final tally was 2,976 head. After the count was made, Poindexter went to the bank with James to withdraw the money.
“The current price of gold is fifty dollars an ounce,” the banker explained to James. “You can accept payment in gold or specie.”
“Specie?”
“Paper money,” the banker said. “Govern ment greenbacks. If I were you, I would take it in specie, as it will be much easier to handle than gold.”
James thought about it for a moment. Greenbacks would be easier, but given the volatility of the war, and the fact that all Union money in Texas had been exchanged for Confederate dollars, he decided the most stable currency would be gold.
“I think I’ll take it in gold.”
“Very well, sir. It’ll take a few moments to weigh and fill your sacks.”
The banker began weighing gold dust, then pouring the measured dust into sacks, each sack containing one hundred ounces.
“That’s a lot of gold dust,” James said, looking at the sacks that were beginning to stack up.
“It’s going to come to 125 pounds,” the banker said. “Gold dust is heavy.”
“Yes, I know it is.”
The banker chuckled. “That’s probably a pretty good thing, though. Most robbers steal because they are too lazy to work. But if a robber takes gold he is going to have to work because it is so heavy. Still, there is always that chance,” the banker said. “That being the case, you might want to leave it on deposit with the bank.”
“Perhaps I will,” James said. “But first I need to take it to my partners so we can divide it up.”
As the banker continued to fill the sacks, James walked over to talk to Poindexter.
“As I was coming into town, I saw a man hanging from a tree,” James said. “I started to cut him down, but two men stopped me.”
James thought he saw an expression of fear dart across the contractor’s face. Poindexter’s eyes narrowed, and he nervously ran his hand through his hair, but he said nothing.
“You wouldn’t happen to know who it was, would you?”
“Who?”
“The dead man I just told you about. Do you know who it was?”
“His name was Gillis. Logan Gillis,” Poindexter said.
“Well, Logan Gillis paid dearly for stealing. Normally I don’t have any sympathy for a thief, but I figure he deserved better than that.”
“Gillis wasn’t a thief,” Poindexter said.
“That’s what the sign said.”
“Our—sheriff—left that sign,” Poindexter said, slurring the word sheriff.
“Henry Plummer?”
Again, Poindexter looked nervous. “Do you know Henry Plummer?”
“No. But the sign bore his name. Also the two men who stopped me said they were deputies.”
The beef contractor made a scoffing sound. “Those men aren’t deputies, because Plummer is no more a sheriff than I am. He sure would like to be sheriff, though. And he has started a vigilante committee to protect the good people of the Bannack Mining District. But he’s the one we need protecting from. Look at Logan Gillis. If the truth were known, Plummer and his men probably stole money from Gillis, then hung him for trying to keep hold of his own.”
“Does everyone feel the same way about Plummer?” James asked.
“Everyone who isn’t on his payroll feels that way about him. But he has so many men working for him as deputies, and so many others frightened, that if we were to hold a real election today, he would win.”
“Sounds to me like he’s the kind of person a fella wants to stay away from,” James said
.
“You’ve got that right, mister.”
It was the last building on the street, sitting just on the edge of the town. The sign in front read SHERIFF’S OFFICE, BANNACK MINING DISTRICT VIGILANTE COMMITTEE, HENRY PLUMMER, SHERIFF.
A woodfire popped and snapped inside a small, potbellied stove, warming the inside of the building. Half a dozen men stood around the stove and around the single desk that occupied the room. Henry Plummer sat in a swivel chair with his feet propped up on the desk. He was buffing to an even higher shine his already polished boots.
“That was quite a show this morning, all those cows coming through,” Plummer said as he worked the shoe brush back and forth over the burnished leather. He looked up at Angus. “Is this is the herd you’ve been waiting for?”
“Yes,” Butrum replied.
“Well, I congratulate you, Mr. Butrum. It was worth waiting for. They were paid over a hundred thousand dollars for the herd, all in gold,” Plummer said. He put the brush back in the desk drawer then admired the sheen on his shoes. Looking up at the others, he smiled. “Yes, sir, it’s going to be a very good payday.”
“Wish he’d taken the money in paper, it would’a been a lot easier,” George Ives said.
“Ives, I swear, you would complain if they hung you with a new rope,” Plummer said. “If the gold is too heavy for you, I’m sure some of the others will be glad to take your share.”
“No, no, it’s not too much for me.”
Plummer laughed. “I didn’t think it would be.”
“When are we going to do it?”
“As soon as I figure out the best way to do it,” Plummer answered. “Probably some time tomorrow.”
“What about Faglier?” Angus asked.
“Who’s Faglier?” Plummer replied.
“I told you who he is. He’s the one me an’ my brothers been lookin’ for all this time. He’s one of the cowboys that brought the herd up.”
“Do you know which one he is?”
“Yeah, one of the men down at the holding pens pointed him out today. We know him, but he don’t know us.”
“Well, that ought to make it easy enough for you tomorrow.”
“We don’t aim to wait until tomorrow to give him a chance to get away,” Percy said.
“We’re going to kill him today.”
“No, you aren’t. You are going to wait until tomorrow,” Plummer said, scowling at the three brothers. “I don’t intend to let that money get away from me because you have some score to settle.”
“All right, we’ll do it your way. If you want us to wait, we’ll wait,” Angus said. “As long as you know we intend to kill him.”
“You can kill him,” Plummer said easily. “It doesn’t make any difference to me. All I’m interested in is the money.”
Chapter Eighteen
Former cow camp outside Bannack, Dakota Territory,
Thursday, October 16, 1862:
Duke Faglier poured a little gold dust into his hand, examined it for a moment, then returned it to the sack. “Seventy-five hundred dollars,” he said. “I’ve never held so much money in my hand at one time in my life.” He chuckled. “In fact, I don’t think all the money I’ve ever handled would equal this.”
“What are you going to do with all that money, Duke?” John asked.
“I don’t know yet, but I figure I’ll find some way to spend it.”
“What about a saloon?”
Duke chuckled. “Well, I might buy a few drinks, but I don’t know as I want to spend it all in a saloon.”
“Not in a saloon, for a saloon,” John said. “Me an’ Luke are goin’ to spend the winter lookin’ for gold. But come next spring, we’re thinkin’ on buyin’ us a saloon. We figure, with all the gold money up here, a saloon would do real well. Maybe you’d like to come in as our partner.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Duke answered. “I don’t know, let me think about that.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” Billy said. “Well, after I poke around in the hills a while, I guess I’ll take my uncle’s money back to Texas. Then I’m going out to California.”
“California,” Matthew said. “Now, there’s an idea. I’ve always had a hankering to see that place myself.”
“That leaves you, Bob. What are you going to do?” James asked.
“You won’t care much for what I have in mind,” Bob replied.
“What do you mean?”
“I aim to get into the war,” Bob said. “I thought about it a lot during the drive up here. I’m not sure I understand all the reasons why the war come about, but I know I won’t be able to hold my head up if I don’t get into it.”
“So, come next spring, you’ll be going back to Texas?”
Bob shook his head. “No, I’m going now. They say the boats will be running for about another month until river ice shuts them down. I’m going with the next boat.”
“You mean you ain’t goin’ to look for gold?” Luke asked. “I thought that was the whole reason you come up here.”
“It was,” Bob said. “But I’ve changed my mind. I feel like I have to go back.”
“Well, it’s your decision, Bob,” James said. “A man has to do what a man has to do. I wish you luck.”
“Thanks.”
“Now, I have a proposal,” James said.
“What’s that?” Billy asked.
“I propose that we all go into town and spend tonight in the hotel. It might be nice to have a roof over our heads for a change.”
“Yeah, and no cows bellowing,” Luke said.
“Or wandering off,” Bob suggested.
“Or stinking,” Billy added. The others laughed.
Bannack, two a.m. Friday, October 17, 1862:
Percy tripped as he stepped up onto the boardwalk in front of the Last Chance Saloon, across the street from the Miner’s Hotel.
“Shhh!” Chance whispered. “You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.”
“I didn’t see the step in the dark.”
“Well, hell, it ain’t like they just put it there,” Chance said. “It’s been right there as long as we’ve been here.”
“Will both of you shut up?” Angus ordered.
Percy and Chance stopped their arguing as the three men moved to the edge of the boardwalk. At this time of night, the town was absolutely quiet, the last customer from the last saloon having left nearly two hours earlier.
Except for the hotel, every building in town was dark. There, a lamp in the lobby downstairs, and another in the hallway upstairs provided the only sign of illumination in the entire town.
“Plummer isn’t going to like it when he finds out that we didn’t wait to kill Faglier,” Percy said.
Angus chuckled. “Yeah, well, he’s going to like it even less when he finds out that we took the money.”
“You really think we should take the money, Angus?” Chance asked. “What about Plummer and The Innocents?3
“To hell with Plummer and The Innocents. The way I figure it, this has been our deal from the start. We’re the ones that found out about the herd, and the whole reason we come up here was to take the money. Maybe you boys would like to give Plummer some of your share of the money, but I don’t intend to give him any of mine.”
“I ain’t goin’ to give them any of my money,” Percy said.
“Me, neither,” Chance added.
“All right, let’s do it, then.”
The three men moved out of the shadow of the saloon, were visible in the relative brightness of the moon-splashed street, then disappeared once more in the shadows of the buildings on the other side. Angus pulled his pistol and the others did the same.
“Check your loads,” he said.
All three men spun the cylinders, checking that all chambers were charged. Then, with guns drawn, and moving quietly, they stepped into the hotel.
The hotel clerk was snoring loudly, asleep on a small cot behind the desk. Angus walked over to t
he counter and turned the registration book around to look at it. In the light of the desk lamp, he found what he was looking for.
“Duke Faglier, room 107,” he whispered. “Get the key.”
Reaching behind the counter, Chance got the key for 107.
“We’ll take care of Faglier first,” Angus whispered, indicating that they should go up the stairs.
“What about the keys to the other rooms?” John asked.
“We won’t need them,” Angus answered. “When we open the ball with Faglier, the others are going to come running out of their rooms to see what’s going on. They’ll be confused and muddled. We can shoot them down like ducks in a pond.”
Quietly, the three men climbed the stairs. When they reached the top of the stairs they looked down the long hallway, which was dimly illuminated by one flickering lantern.
Tiptoeing quietly down the hallway, they came to room 107. Pausing at the door they listened, hearing the sound of snoring coming from inside. Angus slipped the key in the lock, then turned it slowly. Once the door was unlocked, he twisted the knob, then pushed the door open.
A wide bar of pale yellow light from the hall splashed into the room, dimly illuminating a sleeping figure on the bed. The three men raised their pistols, pointed at the sleeping figure, then, at a nod from Angus, began shooting.
James was startled from sleep by the sound of gunfire. Pulling his pistol from the holster that hung at the head of the bed, he rolled out of bed and onto the floor, then crawled to the door. Opening the door, he saw, in the light of the hall lamp, three men, backing out of Duke’s room, firing back into the room as they did so.
Another door opened between James and the three shooters, and James saw a muzzle flash as that person began firing.
“We’re sitting ducks!” one of the shooters shouted. “Get that lamp out!”
One of the other shooters began firing at the lamp.
“Not that way, you fool!”
The lamp exploded with a shower of glass and a spray of kerosene. The kerosene splashed onto the wall, then caught fire.
“Revelation!” James shouted. Standing up, he ran out into the hall, exchanging fire with the three shooters. Muzzle blasts, like flashes of lightning, lit up the hall.
The Bozeman Trail Page 17