“James!” Revelation shouted from behind one of the doors.
“I’m coming in,” James shouted. James smashed through the door with his shoulder. Revelation was kneeling behind the bed, with her rifle pointed toward the door.
James saw Revelation fire and he leaped to one side. “No, it’s me!” he shouted. Almost before he got the words out of his mouth, however, a body fell inside the room from behind him. One of the shooters had followed him into the room, only to be shot down by Revelation.
James went back to the open doorway and, looking down the hall, saw Duke come out of one of the rooms.
“Faglier!” one of the two remaining shooters shouted. “It can’t be! We killed you!”
James had never seen anything like what happened next. Without flinching, or ducking into any of the rooms, or even turning sideways to offer a smaller target, Duke faced the two men. Standing in the middle of the hall, he exchanged gunfire with the two shooters. The hallway was rapidly filling with smoke, both from the many pistol discharges as well from the fire that was rapidly investing the entire floor. The smoke was so thick now that the only thing that could be seen were the muzzle flashes from repeated firing.
Then the flashes stopped and the hallway fell silent, except for the snapping and popping of burning wood.
“I think they’re down,” Duke said. “Every one, out of your rooms. Get out of the hotel, fast! It’s on fire!”
Now all up and down the hallway, doors opened as guests who had been hiding from the gun battle appeared. In nightgowns and night-shirts, and coughing against the smoke, they found their way out into the hall.
“Hurry, hurry!” Duke shouted, as he directed the traffic. Billy, Bob, Luke, and John joined the guests as they all started toward the head of the stairs where, mercifully, the smoke wasn’t quite as thick. James and Revelation came out into the hall as well.
“Where’s Matthew?” Revelation shouted.
“He won’t be coming,” Duke said, waving toward the head of the stairs with his pistol. “Come on, hurry, we’ve got to get out of here or we’ll be smothered by the smoke!”
“Where is he?” Revelation asked again.
“He was the first one to get shot,” Duke said.
“Then he’s wounded, we’ve got to go to him. We’ve got to help him!”
“Revelation, listen to me!” Duke shouted, putting his hands on her shoulders. “He’s dead! There’s nothing we can do for him now. We’ve got to get out of here or we’re going to die, too!”
By now it was practically impossible to breathe, and all three were coughing at every breath.
“Get down on the floor!” James shouted. “It won’t be as thick down there!”
All three dropped to the floor, then crawled to the stairs. When they reached the top of the stairs they launched themselves down, rolling and sliding until they reached the bottom. By now, the lobby was filled with smoke as well and, just as they started toward the main door, part of the ceiling fell in, blocking, with flaming refuse, their only escape route.
“We’re trapped!” Revelation shouted.
In the wavering light of the fire that was consuming the hotel, James saw the lobby hall tree. Picking it up, he tossed it through the window, smashing out the glass.
“Get out through the window,” James shouted over the now roaring flames. “But be careful of the shards.”
James and Duke lifted Revelation through the window. Duke was next, followed by James. Outside the burning hotel, they regained their feet, then, coughing and wheezing, hurried across the street to join the crowd of hotel guests who were watching in horror as the building they had just exited was going up in flames.
By now several of the town’s citizens, awakened by all the noise, had joined the guests.
“Form a bucket brigade!” someone shouted. “We’ve got to save the buildings next door!”
Within minutes, dozens of buckets appeared. A line was formed from a nearby watering trough and, while two men pumped water into the trough to keep the level high, others dipped buckets of water out, passing the filled containers from hand to hand down the line of volunteers toward the fire. They wasted no water by throwing it onto the fire itself; it was already too late for that. Instead, they concentrated on the adjacent buildings in the hope they could prevent them from catching.
Bannack Cemetery Sunday, October 18, 1862:
They buried Matthew Scattergood and the three Butrum brothers in the same cemetery. The Butrums had been buried the day before with nobody but the gravedigger present as the three hastily built pine boxes were lowered into the ground.
Several of the citizens of the town turned out for Matthew’s burial, including Milton Poindexter, the broker who had bought the herd, and Ethan Ellis, the banker. Matthew even had a preacher read over him as the beautiful black and silver casket was lowered.
“Poor Matthew,” Duke said. “He wanted a room next to the street, so we changed rooms. If we hadn’t done that, he would be alive now.”
“And you would be dead,” James said.
“Maybe. But at least the Butrums had some call to want to kill me. They had no call at all to shoot Matthew.”
“Sure they did,” Bob said. “They had the same reason to shoot him that they had to shoot all of us. They wanted our money.”
“I’m convinced that Henry Plummer and his bunch wanted it as well,” James said. “So if you think about it, the Butrums probably did us a favor. They weren’t able to pull off the robbery by themselves. If they had waited, if Plummer and his entire gang had come after us, we might all be lying there.”
“Maybe so, but at least they wouldn’t have gotten the money,” Duke said. “It was smart of you to suggest that we leave it in the bank.”
“Yes,” Bob said. “And I, for one, intend to leave it there, every cent of it, until I head back to Texas.”
“You can’t leave every cent there. You’re going to have to take some of it out,” James said.
“Why is that?”
“You’ll need to buy a suit for the wedding.”
Chapter Nineteen
North Shadows Ranch on Beaverhead River in the newly created territory of Montana Sunday, January 10, 1864:
After a winter of looking for gold with only limited success, James went south to Texas. He stayed there just long enough to introduce his new bride, and give his father his share of the money from the sale of the herd. Then he returned to Bannack, staked out some land in a grassy valley near Beaverhead River, and established North Shadows Ranch.
For now, North Shadows Ranch was much more about land than it was about cattle. That was because he had only a couple of seed bulls and a dozen or so heifers. However, there was plenty of water and grass, as well as sheltering canyons against the cold Montana winters, so James was totally convinced that his venture would eventually pay off.
Duke, Luke, and John had not even returned to Texas, but stayed in Bannack to open the Lucky Strike Saloon. Their endeavor proved to be extremely successful, for within less than a year, the Lucky Strike was the largest and finest saloon between Chicago and San Francisco.
Revelation didn’t go with James when he went into town to go to church on the morning of January 10, 1864. She stayed home because the baby, Matthew Garrison, was sick.
James’s first stop was the post office, where he checked his box. Along with his mail was a small sheet of paper with the numbers 3-7-77 on it. Those were the numbers used by the Montana Vigilante Association. The numbers referred to a grave: three feet wide, seven feet deep, and seventy-seven inches long. To the lawless, those numbers meant terror. To the lawful, they were a signal that an important event was about to take place.
After leaving the post office, James went to the apothecary. Sam Atkinson, the druggist who lived in an apartment upstairs over his store, was just coming down the outside stairs when James got there.
“ ’Morning, James,” Sam greeted. “Going to church?”
; “I am, but I need something. Sam, before you go to church, would you open up your store long enough to sell me some medicine for little Matthew? He’s feeling poorly.”
“Of course I will,” Sam replied. “Come on inside.”
James watched as Sam used the mortar and pestle to grind a couple of powders into a single potion.
“Did you get one of these?” James asked quietly, showing Sam the paper with the numbers 3-7-77.
Sam looked at the paper, then glanced around before he answered.
“Yes, I got one,” he answered, just as quietly.
“Do you know what it’s about?”
“Last night Nelson Story and the vigilantes arrested Henry Plummer and some of his men. Milton Poindexter wants to hold a miners’ court. If you got one of those, that means he plans for you to be on the jury.”
“When is the trial?”
“This morning, right after church,” Sam said.
“Well, if I’m going to make the trial, then I better not go to church. I need to get this medicine back to Revelation.”
Sam poured the concoction into an envelope and gave it to James. “Twenty-five cents,” he said. “Have your wife mix about a quarter of a spoonful of the powder with three-fourths of a spoon of water. Give him one dose, three times a day. That should take care of it.”
“Thanks,” James said. “Oh, and if you see Poindexter, tell him I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Go to the Lucky Strike Saloon. That’s where we are going to have the trial,” Sam said.
Revelation was sitting in a rocking chair, holding the baby when James got home.
“How is Matthew?” James asked.
“I think he’s feeling better some,” Revelation said. “He’s not as fussy as he was.”
“I got the medicine for him,” James said. “Sam says you can give him three doses a day. I also picked up the mail.”
“Mail, oh wonderful,” Revelation said. “Sit down, we’ll read it together.”
James shook his head. “I’ll have to read it later,” he said. “There are big doings going on in town.”
“Oh? What?”
“Story has arrested Plummer and some of his men. They’re going to try him today, and they want me to sit on the jury.”
“It’s about time justice caught up with that man,” Revelation said. “Remember everything that happens at the trial, so you can tell me all about it.”
“I will,” James promised as he left.
Revelation put the mail on the kitchen table, planning to wait until James returned to read the mail. But as she went about her chores, her eyes kept darting over to the envelopes, pregnant with the promise of news from home. Finally, she couldn’t hold off any longer, so she picked up the mail, moved a chair to the window for its light, then opened one of the envelopes.
The first letter was from Billy Swan, who was now living in San Francisco, California. Billy had thrilling news in his opening sentence.
I’ll bet you thought no woman would ever want me, but I am getting married.
I intend to bring her to Bannack to meet all of you as soon as possible. I can’t wait for you to meet her. She is a wonderful girl and, Revelation, I’ve told her all about you, and how marvelous you were on that long cattle drive. She is very eager to meet you, and I know the two of you will get on well.
At the end of the letter, Billy asked them to take his letter to Duke, Luke, and John.
Since they are running a saloon right there in Bannack it will be easy for you to give them this letter. That way I won’t have to write again. You know how bad I am about writing, it was hard enough to write this one letter, let alone another.
Feeling very good about that letter, Revelation put it aside for James to read when he came home, then she picked up the next one. It was from Bob Ferguson. True to his promise, Bob had joined the Confederate army shortly after he returned to Texas. Because of that, he couldn’t send mail directly to Bannack but had to forward his mail through his parents, back in Texas. As a result, the letter made such a circuitous route that it was over four months old.
I have been made an officer. Can you see me as an officer? I told the captain that the Confederacy must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel if they can make an officer out of the likes of someone like me.
“I think you will be a fine officer,” Revelation said aloud.
Even though I am now an officer, I don’t like the army anymore than I did when I was a private. I should have listened to you, James. This war makes no sense. Good men are killing good men for no good reason that I can see.
I just wish the whole thing was over. But I have a plan. I intend to just keep getting promoted until I am a general. Then, when I’m a general, I’ll tell all the men to go home, and the war will be over. What do you think about that as an idea?
Revelation laughed out loud at that suggestion.
Sometimes when we are in camp and the nights grow long, I think back to the cattle drive we made, and I recall every moment of it with fondness. James, before I left for the army, you asked if I would be interested in coming back to Bannack when the war is over, and ranching with you. I didn’t give you an answer then, but I give you one now.
Yes, I would love to come up there and be your foreman, as my father was foreman for your father. That thought, and that thought alone, sustains me through this awful war.
Just as Revelation finished Bob’s letter, the baby coughed. She put the letter down, then gave the baby his first dose of medicine. After that, she made certain he was covered up, then she sat back down to read the last letter. This one was from James’s parents, but as it was addressed to both of them, she felt no compunc tions about reading it.
She began crying from the very first paragraph.
We have some very sad news to report. Bob Ferguson was killed on October 25 at Pine Bluff, Arkansas. It wasn’t much of a battle—it didn’t even make the news here—but it was devastating as far as our county is concerned. Bob wasn’t the only one killed. You remember young Carl Adams, who used to ride for us? He was killed as well.
Abner Murback, Syl Largent, and Joe Baker were killed earlier in the year. This war has not been kind to Bexar boys. I am so glad you did not go. And I so wish you had been able to keep Bob with you. As you can well imagine, Dusty and Betty Ferguson are having a very hard time with it. We are, too. Bob was like a second son to us, and the brother that you never had.
At that moment, James was blissfully unaware of the fate of his longtime friend. He was in the Lucky Strike Saloon, visiting with Duke, Luke, and John, waiting for the trial to begin.
“This is where the trial is to be, isn’t it?” James asked, checking the clock on the wall behind the bar.
“That’s what Dimsdale4 has been telling everyone,” Duke said.
“Here comes Poindexter now,” Luke said. “Let’s see what he has to say.”
Poindexter stepped just inside the door and motioned to everyone. “If you fellas want to see the hanging, you’d better come on. They’re fixin’ to do it right now.”
“What? They are hanging him already?” James asked. “Where was the trial?”
“There was no trial,” Poindexter said. “There isn’t going to be one.”
James shook his head. “This is not good,” he said. “There should be a trial.”
“Why?” Luke asked. “Folks say Plummer is responsible for more than one hundred killings. If ever anyone needed hangin’, it is Henry Plummer.”
“Folks aren’t saying that,” Duke replied. “Dimsdale is saying that. He’s been firing up people with those articles he’s written. He’s the one that’s pushed it to this point.”
“You ain’t saying Plummer doesn’t deserve to hang, are you?” John asked.
“No, I’m not saying that,” Duke said. “I’m just saying that if we hang him without a trial, it’s going to come back to haunt us some day.”
“How?”
“Duke is right,”
James said. “This could cause us trouble. We’ve just become a territory and I’d like to think we might be a state someday. But who is going to want us to be a state with lynching going on?”
“It’s not a lynching exactly,” Poindexter said. “It’s more like a hanging.”
“It’s a hanging without a trial,” James said. “In my book, that’s a lynching.”
“There are about three hundred people down there at the gallows,” Poindexter said. “Do you want to try and stop them?”
“I would if I could,” James said.
“Well, are you going to come down there? Or are you just going to stay here and talk about it?” Poindexter asked.
James, Duke, Luke, and John followed Poindexter down to the far end of the street, where several of the townspeople were gathered around the gallows. Ironically, the gallows had been built by Henry Plummer. Plummer, and two of his henchmen, were standing alongside the scaffolding. All three men had their hands tied behind them.
“Before we send these three scoundrels to their Maker, is there anyone who wants to speak for them?” Captain Nelson Story asked.
“I will speak for them,” James said, hurrying toward the crowd.
“Bless you, James,” Plummer said quickly. “I always knew you were a decent sort. And I know that you know that I am innocent of any wrongdoing.”
James shook his head. “I don’t know that you are innocent, Plummer,” he said. “In fact, I am certain that you are guilty, and you have blasphemed the very concept of innocence by using that as the password for your crimes.”
“Well, if you know he’s guilty, what are you speakin’ for him for?” someone asked from the crowd.
“I’m not speaking for him as much as I am speaking for us. All of us,” James replied. “If we hang these men without a trial, we are as guilty of murder as we believe them to be. We are never going to get law and order here unless we are lawful and orderly ourselves.”
The Bozeman Trail Page 18