He heard another shot and then another. He pushed down his fear for Mary, steeled himself and struggled to run even faster.
Henry had missed his second shot. Mary kept moving, trying to get inside the house. The door had become her entire world now, and all of her focus and will was bent on reaching it. The gunshot in her chest was burning worse now, sending waves of pain coursing through her body. Still she pressed forward. Mary was just a few feet away now, the knob almost within her grasp.
But Henry was moving, too. Spurred on by his negative emotions and unhampered by any injuries, he was able to move faster than his wife. As she neared the door, Henry grabbed her roughly in one hand and brought the gun close to her body.
Wounded though she was, Mary began to struggle and fight Henry with all of her remaining strength. Her will to survive was strong, and she was determined to escape. Henry pulled the trigger and shot her again, the muzzle of the gun so close that the discharge of the firearm burned Mary’s skin around the wound.
But still Mary struggled on, clinging to life. Henry held fast, determined to see his grim task through. He raised the gun to his wife’s right temple and fired again. With a roar, the bullet left the gun, entered Mary’s head and passed out through her left ear. She stopped struggling; the life that she had fought so hard to preserve was now leaving her body. Slowly, Henry released his grip and let Mary fall to the ground.
He took a deep breath and then exhaled. His task was done. Mary was dead. There was one last thing to do. Henry started walking across the yard, steeling himself for this final task. He stopped and raised the revolver to the side of his head. Henry pulled the trigger one last time, sending a bullet through his own brain, killing himself almost instantly.
Dodds ran into the yard, ready to fight in defense of his friend. What greeted him was only stillness. Panting, he scanned the area, looking for Henry. Dodds saw them both then, lying on the ground. Henry was dead, killed by his own hand. But Mary, almost miraculously, was not. She was still alive! As fast as he could move her and still be gentle, Dodds picked up the gravely injured young woman and carried her into the house.
Outside, the neighborhood was buzzing with worry and excitement. The neighbors had heard the gunshots and were anxious to know what had happened. W.L. Allen, a local doctor, had been traveling down Kirkwood Boulevard when he heard all the commotion. He was immediately concerned and turned his buggy toward the sounds. He arrived at the Dodds home shortly thereafter. Allen found Mrs. Dodds in the front yard and quickly checked to make sure that she was okay. Satisfied that she was, the doctor proceeded around the house to the backyard, where he discovered what had happened. Allen checked Henry’s body and knew he was already dead.
The home where Mary Schultz was murdered was located along this stretch of Brady Street in Davenport. Author’s collection.
He went into the home, where he found Mary. To his disappointment, Allen discovered that he was already too late to help the long-suffering Mary. Once inside, Mary, a fighter to the bitter end, had finally succumbed to her injuries.
Others quickly followed Allen to the scene of the horrible murders. Another doctor who lived just a short distance away showed up, as well as an ambulance and some policemen. Unfortunately, there was little help that they could render other than to comfort the living and collect the dead.
Mary and Henry were taken to a local undertaker, and a coroner’s inquest was held a short time later. The verdict of what had happened was no surprise to anyone; it was obvious Henry had murdered his wife and then committed suicide.
The letters that had been sent out by Henry before his death were opened. They were long, rambling diatribes on how his in-laws had slighted him and how the majority of what had happened was their fault. While it was Henry’s wish that he be buried next to Mary, the families were not going to allow that to happen.
After the inquest was over, Henry’s body was sent back east to Washington, D.C., to be received by his family there. Mary, however, was taken back to her home in Pleasant Valley. News of her murder had spread like wildfire; while there were few who cared for Henry Schultz, Mary was almost universally loved.
During the funeral, several people from all over the area came to give Mary Schultz their final respects. Her funeral had the largest attendance of any in that area up to that time. After the services, Mary was taken to the Pleasant Valley cemetery and buried, far from the abusive husband who had so cruelly taken her life.
The two boys, now orphaned, were taken in by Reinhart and Elise. They were loved and raised by their grandparents, who gave them all the affection they could ever have. The two orphans grew up in a loving home, eternally free from the abuses of their father.
CHAPTER 2
OBSESSION
In rural Scott County a few miles north of Bettendorf, Iowa, a white wood-framed building has stood for over a century. It has weathered storms and blizzards and has seen the county and the land grow and change. It has withstood the tests of time and, in some ways, become part of the very landscape itself.
But not all the events that it has borne witness to have been good. On a fall evening in 1906, it played a central part in a horrible tale that resulted in the untimely deaths of two people. That story begins with a man named John Drenter.
John Drenter was born in Germany. Like so many of his countrymen, he made the decision to seek better opportunities in the United States. In the 1840s, Drenter and his wife, Mary Jane, left their home in Bremen and settled in Pennsylvania. Eventually, they moved west again. They settled in Scott County, Iowa, along Territorial Road northeast of the city of Davenport. Satisfied with what they had there, the young couple settled in and began to grow firm roots.
They bought land and built a successful farm. The couple mingled in the community, forming bonds and friendships. Their children learned about the various ways of farm life. And, like many people in that area, they attended services at the Presbyterian Church of Summit on nearby Utica Ridge Road. The Summit Church, as it was more commonly known, had come into being because of the condition of rural roads.
Roads are largely taken for granted in the modern world. People drive to and from work and take trips all the way across the nation. They drive three hours across the state to see relatives or friends. If an individual is so inclined and the geography is favorable, they can even drive into another country. But in the early days of Scott County, roads were hard and the way long.
In the early to mid-nineteenth century, horses were the kings of the road. A person could ride on horseback or take a buggy, wagon or stagecoach pulled by two or more horses. If they did not want to handle a horse, then they walked. Travel in this manner could take hours or even days for a person to reach his destination. The problem, however, was not the method of transport so much as what a person had to travel along.
Road conditions were a heavy factor in travel during the nineteenth century and even up into the early part of the twentieth century. During certain times of the year, or just after a good rain, roads often turned into almost impassable morasses of mud. Wagons and buggies could become stuck up to their wheel hubs and require help to become free. Enterprising farmers or young men would sometimes capitalize on this fact by traveling the muddy roads and removing travelers from their predicaments—for a small fee, of course.
When the roads dried out, they could become extremely bumpy and warped. In the summer months, they could be dusty, and strong winds would blow loose dirt into the faces of travelers. Unless an individual was traveling inside a stagecoach or some other kind of enclosed conveyance, people were very much at the mercy of the blinding dust.
John Drenter settled along Territorial Road, pictured here, when he came to Scott County. Author’s collection.
Dirt roads like this one in Rock Island, Illinois, were the order of the day in the early twentieth century. Courtesy of Davenport Public Library.
In winter, bitterly cold temperatures and howling winds across the open fiel
ds made traveling in an open buggy not only uncomfortable but also extremely dangerous. Deep and drifting snows could also block the roadways, making them impassable in some areas until the temperatures warmed and melted the clogged roadways.
Bad roads and limited travel in certain times of the year were simply a fact of life in rural areas. As people had for centuries before, individuals who lived in the country would store enough crops and meat to get through the winter. Farmers would sell off the surplus of the various crops that they grew. For tools and equipment, they could stockpile a certain amount of parts or pieces. If he was capable, an individual could even manufacture the needed part himself. But even for self-reliant rural folk, there were still some things that either could not be done on the farm or they felt uncomfortable doing themselves. One of these things was religion.
Presbyterian settlers had established themselves in that region in an area that became known as Churchhill’s Settlement. Mostly from Pennsylvania, many of them had become farmers and were of a religious mindset. Unfortunately for them, the nearest church was in Davenport to the south, the First Presbyterian Church. First Presbyterian was located on Third Street at that time, which was only a short distance from the Mississippi River. This necessitated a round trip of several miles every Sunday, and that was only if the roads were clear enough and the weather was permitting of the trip. Regardless, there were several farmers from Churchhill’s Settlement who made this sometimes uncomfortable trek as often as they could. But as dedicated as they were, the round trip eventually began to wear very, very thin on their patience. Soon enough, they decided to do something about it.
In rural areas, it was often the habit of individuals to petition a clergyman of their particular denomination to make the trip out to a home or public building in their town or area and hold services for them once or twice every month. For the residents of Churchhill’s Settlement, they reached out to James Dinsmore Mason, the resident minister at First Presbyterian Church in Davenport.
Like them, J.D. Mason was from Pennsylvania, having been born there in 1812. When he was a young child, he joined a local Presbyterian church and almost immediately liked it. He was hooked. As he grew older and became an adult, Mason decided to pursue a Presbyterian education in the hopes of becoming a minister. Those hopes were realized in 1841, when he completed his studies and earned his preaching license. About two years later, Mason was officially ordained to the Presbyterian ministry.
When James turned thirty years old, he married Anna S. Blaine, with whom he would have six children and stay for the rest of his life.
In 1847, Mason traveled to Iowa for the first time. During the few months that he spent there, he fell in love with the potential that the newly forged state held. So, after his temporary stay, he traveled back to Pennsylvania, gathered his young family and began preparations to make a permanent return to Iowa.
In the spring of 1848, Mason and his family traveled west and settled in Lee County, Iowa, in the vicinity of Fort Madison. He was very successful in his spiritual endeavors, and with that success, his reputation grew. By September of the following year, he had been approached by the First Presbyterian Church in Davenport to become its resident minister. Mason happily agreed to accept the position and moved his family north to Davenport.
When he arrived, Mason had a congregation of thirty-three members at his new church home. But he was a man of will and vision. Channeling the pioneer spirit that was so prevalent within the then frontier state of Iowa, Mason worked exceptionally hard over the next ten years to spread the Presbyterian faith and grow that small thirty-three-member congregation.
In addition to his ever-vigilant endeavors within First Presbyterian Church, Mason always kept an eye outside of his own church and into the rural areas around Davenport. His was a true missionary mentality, and a short time after his arrival, he began to travel to a church in nearby LeClaire, Iowa. It did not have a minister in residence, so for the next year and a half, he would gather some belongings and his Bible and trek out to LeClaire once a month. Eventually, LeClaire gained a minister of its own, and Mason turned his attention to other rural areas within the confines of Scott County.
He soon began to travel to the western edges of the county in order to preach to the fine people of Bluegrass, Iowa. Eventually, he would found new churches not only there but also in nearby Walcott and Eldridge.
By 1857, the congregation of First Presbyterian had grown to around two hundred members and included such prominent early Davenport pioneers as J.M.D. Burrows, who at one time was considered to be the wealthiest man in the city. It was about this time that the farmers in and around Churchhill’s Settlement north of town approached Mason about traveling to their area.
Mason had just been released from other travel obligations, and he readily agreed to travel to the settlement once or twice a month. Soon, the missionary preacher started out to spread the word down the lonely and dusty roads of rural Iowa once again.
By 1858, some of the church families, along with J.D. Mason, decided that they should build a permanent church in the area. Alfred Churchhill, for whom the settlement had been named, donated five acres of land for the project. Another member, Charles Kinkaid, donated funds toward the actual material costs of the project, such as lumber. By mid-February 1859, the church had been built and organized as the Presbyterian Church of Summit.
It was a modest-sized, wood-framed building. Tall, rectangular windows ran along the north and south sides of the building, filled with marbled stained glass. These could be opened to cool the building during the heat of the summer, and a coal furnace heated the building during the winter months.
Summit Church, located along Utica Ridge Road in rural Scott County. Author’s collection.
By the time the last window was placed and the final nail driven in, the church had cost about $1,200. Twenty-eight members of the brand-new church received official letters from Presbyterian Church leadership that identified them as founding members of Summit Church. Behind the scenes, Mason was wrestling with a tough decision about his future.
Mason had grown a flourishing congregation at First Presbyterian and had further gone on to found several other regional Presbyterian churches. To his mind, his services were no longer required in the city of Davenport or any other church he had founded. All except one, that is. To everyone’s surprise, J.D. Mason quit his position with the First Presbyterian Church and accepted the honor of being the very first resident minister at Summit Church.
But Mason was always a little on the restless side. He was always looking to move out to the frontier and use his God-given talents to preach and grow congregations more toward the outskirts of civilization. In October 1859, he left Summit Church to the care of another minister and set out to where he felt needed.
Summit continued to thrive and grow. Although it was only locals who attended services there for the most part, they were steady and consistent. With church only a few miles away, individuals in the region could attend services almost year round, with exceptions only being taken for the absolute worst of weather conditions.
Over the years, Summit thrived, and so did the world around it. Davenport continued to grow, as did the towns of Eldridge and LeClaire. More people began to settle in the region, and the established families grew and prospered.
John and Mary Jane Drenter had done well since settling near Territorial Road in Scott County. Their eldest son, Ora, was born in 1862 and started attending services with his family from the very beginning of his life. As other children were born, John brought them to services as well, ending with his youngest son, Harrison. The brothers learned the farming trade from their father and became quite skilled as they grew older and stronger.
While attending services at Summit, Ora met a young woman named Nellie McDowell. She played the organ there and was also known around the farm neighborhood to be an excellent seamstress. One day, they caught each other’s eyes and started courting. In 1894, Ora and Nelli
e married and settled into a secure life in the area where they had grown up. Eventually, they owned a very successful farm and had four healthy children. Harry, Ora’s younger brother, was still single and lived with them.
By 1900, Ora had a good wife, happy children and a capable brother to help him on the farm. Ora even had enough money to pay a teenage girl by the name of Emma Hansen to stay at the home and help Nellie with the everyday chores of a typical farm household. This would have consisted of such things as cooking, cleaning and tending to the children’s needs.
Ora and Nellie became well known in their community and had many friends. Just as they had been given much, they decided to share the bountiful harvest of their lives with others. And so they took in a young orphan girl named Grace Reed.
Grace was born in Nebraska to Charles and Elizabeth Reed in 1889. She and her sister, Ruth, had been orphaned by 1895 and lived in Toledo, Iowa, with their grandmother and aunt. In about 1904, young Grace was sent east to rural Scott County to live with the Drenter family, who were to care for her until she turned eighteen.
Although Grace was almost certainly expected to do her part in all the household chores, Ora and Nellie treated her as one of their very own children, as if she had been part of their lives from the very beginning. She wanted for nothing as she grew up and was loved and cherished on a level equal with the other young ones of the household.
Harry eventually bought his own farm right across the road from Ora. He was also successful in his endeavors, and his farm thrived. Harry, too, had many friends. But he was still single. He was still alone. As the hours and the days passed, his eye settled on young Grace. She was young, attractive and full of life. She would probably make anyone an excellent wife, and Harry thought to make her his own. With his heart full of love and good intentions, he approached Grace and proposed marriage to her. But, much to his disappointment, she wanted nothing to do with him in that way.
Murder & Mayhem in Scott County, Iowa Page 3