(Click
on image to see full size)Sidney Edgerton, first governor of Territory of Montana. (Photo courtesy of Montana Historical Society)
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Sidney Edgerton, first governor of Territory of
Montana. (Photo courtesy of Montana Historical Society)
The Edgerton women, who had left behind their fine china and damask chairs and donned silk masks to prevent damage to their complexions as they crossed the plains, were not especially enthusiastic when they climbed the last hill and stood looking down at the town Electa Plummer had just abandoned. Lucia Darling, noticing first the conspicuous gallows, found the view less than inspiring. So did young Mattie Edgerton. "I think there was not one of us who did not feel a keen sense of disappointment at the prospect," she wrote. "Not a ray of sunlight enlivened the scene. The grey clouds above and around us made the bare mountains and the log cabins between them look extremely forbidding." Hattie Sanders agreed that Bannack was "most unattractive and disappointing," and Mary made the general dejection unanimous, writing home to her twin sister, "It is a great country. There are two things that it abounds in, hills or mountains and sage bushes." [82]
Despite their dislike of the town, the families needed shelter for the approaching winter and, at a sheriff's auction Plummer conducted Edgerton purchased as a home a building on Main Street that had previously served as a store. Wilbur Sanders was not so fortunate, finding for his family only a single room, one-half of a tworoom cabin located on Yankee Flat. Mary and Hattie immediately pitched in to convert the two rude cabins into cozy homes, using a combination of the limited supplies available and their own ingenuity. And Mary was pleasantly surprised at the peacefulness of their new environment: "I think the town is very quiet and orderly for such a mining town -- much more so than I expected to find it." [83]
Mattie recalled how their first night in town they had to fortify themselves with the promise they would be leaving the place in spring, and "with this comforting thought," she wrote, "we were lulled to sleep by the sound of falling waters from the sluice boxes on the mountain." A second image stuck in Mattie's mind over the years: "Miners... lived on the mountain sides in dugouts above the two flumes carrying water to the canyon below. After dark we could see their lights shine out like mammoth fireflies from the doors when they were opened." [84]
Mary covered the peeling bark of the log walls with clean white sheets she had brought across the plains and, rejecting the two crude stone fireplaces as being unsuitable for cooking, had the portable sheet-iron stove carried in from the wagon. Though her table may have been "made by some one who could handle a saw and a hammer but evidently had not mastered the plane" [85] the meals she served on it more than made up for the poor craftsmanship. She sometimes spent an entire day baking, shuttling in and out of the tiny oven loaves of bread, soda biscuits, veal potpie, bread pudding, cake, gingersnaps, and mince pies made from dried apples and wild currants but as delicious as any she had baked back home.
Mary Edgerton, like Electa Plummer, was an educated woman forced to live in the rough settlement because her husband saw the potential for a promising career there, and both women were devoted Christians who had been cautioned against marrying a man of no religious faith by their families, families to which they were bound by strong, permanent ties. Edgerton left Mary alone in this wilderness, sometimes for several months at a time, even while she was expecting their sixth child. But Mary complained little, even though she never did develop a love for their mountain home and would have been happy to leave it at a moment's notice. Her suppressed dissatisfaction with her life comes through in her frequent letters home, in which she made long lists of items she wanted her sister to send her because they were cheaper at home than on the frontier. When she wrote a thanks for the numerous gifts sent, a note of ingratitude always crept in: "I hardly know how to thank you for all the many presents that you sent us. You ask how my dresses fit? They are rather large and long for me, but I can remedy that easily. I like them very much. The girls' hats are the oddest-looking hats I ever saw. I presume you wrote how to trim them, but the letters are back in that other trunk." [86]
Mary was quite concerned about the influence their present environment might have on her children: "I should hardly like to send them to school here, if there was one, for they would learn so many bad things that would injure them more than all the good they would learn. Most of the boys here swear as soon as they can talk. Our 66
HANGING THE SHERIFF
boys have not got any of those habits yet... Wright... and Sidney have the reputation of being the best boys in town." [87] Bad as conditions might have been during Mary's time in Bannack, they had improved considerably in the few months since Electa had left. There was now a preacher of sorts, a regular religious service, and a choir, and Lucia was attending a class to learn German. In addition, Lucia was making plans for setting up a school of her own, having been a teacher in Ohio. She also lent her support to the choir, unlike Mary, who declined to accompany her niece and daughter to meetings conducted by the "good but ignorant man" in a house where "dogs and cats strolled in and out among the congregation." [88] Though Mary sent the smaller children to Sunday school, where Lucia was one of the teachers, she kept the family as close to home as possible, allowing only a few excursions to gather wild flowers or berries and a single trip to visit the mines and stamp mill. Dances were also forbidden, except for one special ball Mattie and Lucia attended to stop sharp criticism that the family was snobbish.
Despite a touch of gold fever spread to her by her husband and fanned by her own dreams of luxury -- "If the new... claim... turns out anything... we shall be able to have all the glassware that we need a year from now" -- Mary ran her household with spartan frugality. "Have been without milk most of the time we have been here; when I do get any, have to pay 25 cents a quart. I get along very well without it." She closed each new request to her sister with, "It will save us a great deal to have them sent to us." Later she took advantage of the high prices in the area by selling some of the pots and pans that her sister had provided."
Being a respectable woman who kept off the streets of Bannack did not mean Mary was lonely. Homesick for family, yes, but never lonely since all the politically ambitious residents of the camp frequented her home. Francis Thompson, who never mentioned giving a single present to the two Vail children, presented the Edgerton children with a cradle and padded chair on one of his frequent visits. Mary naively wrote home about how good people were to them, providing them with sugar-cured hams, moose meat, antelope quarters, and a very special gift from Mr. Gridley to her -- a gold pin worth $25.
Mary rarely mentioned her niece, Hattie Sanders, and never wrote of the Vails, who were the Sanders's neighbors. And whereas the Vails had dedicated the last year trying to become involved with the Indians, Mary's family found they must waste a good deal of their time trying to avoid the tribe camped just beyond the fiat. They made pests of themselves by pressing their noses to a window and peering inside or by tapping on the door to beg for food. Mattie reported they took to locking the door when they saw the "disgusting looking creatures" approaching. In a letter written for Pauline, the younger Edgerton daughter, Mary enumerated some of the Indians' habits that she found so offensive: "They pick off all the dead chickens and pigs and all the old bones and bits of meat that the hogs don't get and carry them up to their wickeyups, and cook and eat them. Do you think you would like to eat such dirty stuff? I know I shouldn't. I don't like to have them come into the house, they are so dirty." [90] Later, when Indians killed ten white woodcutters near Fort Benton, Mary came to regard them as more than just a nuisance, and Edgerton dropped his former ideas about "noble red savages" and wired Washington for troops. When no help appeared, he and Sanders attempted to enlist a local militia but attracted little interest from the miners. Still fearing war would break out, Mary confided to her sister at home that she hoped Edgerton would not have to go, "but I do want to have the Indians killed." [91]
As it turned out, Indian hostilities cooled rather than heated, and the expected war did not develop. However, there were new problems to take the place of the old -- white robbers. Later in October, two armed men, wrapped in blankets and wearing hoods over their heads, held up and robbed the four passengers and driver of the Peabody stage just a few miles out of Rattlesnake ranch. Passengers and driver held differing opinions on who the culprits were. This incident was followed by isolated reports of the robbery of individuals travelling alone -- even those carrying no money who were warned to come better prepared next time.
Though Edgerton had never bothered to make the difficult trip to Lewiston to be sworn in as justice, he had not come across the plains to sit on the sidelines. He and Sanders held several serious discussions about the crime problem in the area, agreeing it was inappropriate that the one man with any authority in the district was a person of bad reputation. But Plummer was quite firmly entrenched in his position; he was, as Sanders put it, "the acknowledged civic magnate" of the "entire country." [92] Not only did he have more than half of his term as sheriff yet to serve, it was quite possible he would be selected as the deputy U.S. marshall of the territory east of the Rockies. Any effort to oust him in a manner acceptable to the populace could not be taken on by lone individuals, but would require the concerted effort of leading citizens, many of whom were already wavering between an allegiance to the new representative from Washington and a prior loyalty to Plummer.
Francis Thompson, who had the dubious distinction of guiding the first band of cutthroats into Bannack, had also made the mistake of informing them he had a large shipment of goods en route. Sheriff Plummer told him he could expect trouble from his close involvement with them and advised him not to open the door of his store after dark without first finding out who was knocking. He also helped Thompson stack goods boxes around his bunk at the back of the store to form a barricade, leaving a porthole to shoot through in case of attack while he was sleeping. Though Thompson slept in his store, both he and Joseph Swift continued to eat at the Vails, as did Plummer.
Through this daily contact, Thompson claimed to have developed a love for Plummer, who was always so "gentlemanly and polite." [93] Thompson realized that Plummer's work required him to be out of town frequently, but he made the observation that sometimes when Plummer missed a meal, a robbery also occurred. He did not mention his suspicions to his younger partner, who "loved Plummer like a brother." Joseph Swift had confided to Mattie Edgerton that Plummer was his close friend, who had been very influential in keeping him out of trouble, steering him away from the saloons and gambling houses when he noticed him there. "Joe," he would say, leading him out, "this is no place for you." [94]
In addition to Swift, the sheriff had other staunch supporters, including his sister-in-law, who had come to respect him through the closer contact. In fact, Mattie Edgerton thought that most people who came in contact with the sheriff liked him, though her own father did not share their feelings. [95] Edgerton was not especially well liked himself, Sanders lamenting how people who did not get to know his uncle well generally did not like him. Besides Edgerton and Sanders, there were others who disliked Plummer, mainly a group of their intimate friends and mostly fellow Republicans. Their dislike was based on his former reputation. Among this group of Edgerton's friends were Langford, himself rather unpopular in the area and later to be rejected by the Senate as a candidate for governor, and Sam Hauser, the "capitalist," as he was called, who had arrived on the Emilie with the Vails and Thompson and was later appointed a governor of Montana. Also Thompson, now a crony of Edgerton, who spent long hours at the store chatting, was coming around to the unsworn justice's way of thinking.
In the middle of November an incident occurred involving Edgerton's ward, Henry Tilden, that caused floating suspicions to crystallize. When Sam Hauser got on the Virginia City coach with a sack containing $14,000 in gold dust that he and Langford planned to take to the States, he noted with alarm that Sheriff Plummer was also a passenger. The day was bitterly cold, and Plummer made Hauser the gift of a scarf to warm him on the long trip. Hauser, already nervous at sharing the coach with a man of Plummer's reputation, interpreted the scarf as a device to mark him as a person carrying money and experienced the greatest uneasiness throughout the journey. But the coach passed safely through Rattlesnake Canyon, and Hauser breathed a huge sigh of relief as they rolled up at the Goodrich Hotel.
Because he still entertained doubts about Plummer's character, Hauser decided to ask him publicly to guard his sack of gold in some safe place. "That's all right," Plummer told him, "I'll take the gold and return it to you." [96] He deposited it with George Chrisman for the night, returning it to Hauser the next day. As Hauser and Langford were preparing to leave for Salt Lake with a Mormon freighter that night, a series of loud shrieks came from the direction of Horse Prairie Hill, but Hauser and Langford continued on their way, leaving others to investigate the source of the outbreak.
Those who went to the rescue discovered the cries to be emanating from young Henry Tilden, who had taken a tumble into a ditch and had his horse fall on top of him. The boy was not so much hurt as frightened out of his wits from an earlier experience, and he hurried on to the Sanders's cabin to tell his story. Hattie Sanders listened to Tilden's strange tale and took him to the Edgertons, who had already heard his cries at the time of the accident. Mattie remembered him telling how three masked horsemen on Horse Prairie had "ordered him to hold up his hands while they searched him. Finding nothing in his pockets but a comb, and a picture of his girl, they let him go, and he went without delay, speeding toward Bannack." Then Mattie stated he concluded his story with the surprising words, "One of the men I know was Henry Plummer." [97]
Sanders and Edgerton, both lawyers, were skeptical of Tilden's story and the next day questioned him carefully as to how he was able to identify Plummer. Tilden told them it was his revolver and overcoat. The lawyers reminded him that being able to distinguish one pistol from another in a town where so many went armed was unlikely, especially in the dark. However, they were both impressed by his mention of the overcoat since it had a distinctive red lining, and they could think of no one in town, other than Plummer, who had such a coat. Mattie and Lucia, who were listening closely and were frightened at what they had just heard, were warned not to breathe a word. Tilden, Mattie, and Lucia were not the only ones frightened; both Edgerton and Sanders decided to keep secret the information they had just heard rather than risk their lives by repeating Tilden's charges.
Meanwhile Langford and Hauser, well on their way, had set up camp for the night, stashing the heavy sack of gold dust out of sight. Langford, unable to sleep because of the cold, spent most of the night wandering around, and at one point spotted four masked men lurking outside camp. He could not identify them because of their masks and the darkness, but when they saw him, they rode away. Strangely enough Langford did not report seeing the masked men to anyone in the freight train so they could be on guard, and the party proceeded on to Salt Lake without further difficulty. [98]
As soon as the sheriff heard about Henry Tilden's story of a robbery, he came to the express office where the boy worked to question him. Out of his fear of Plummer, Tilden denied recognizing any of the robbers, but he was so frightened by the questioning that, according to Mattie, "every night after closing hours he ran the whole distance to his boarding place." [99]
Mattie's earlier interest in Plummer was piqued by Tilden's claims, and the sheriff was now confirmed in her mind as the bad man he was rumored to be. She waited daily just to observe him crossing the log footbridge near her house as he went to and from the Vails' house, noting he was always immaculately clean and wearing such fine clothes she could not imagine where he had bought them.
Mattie was not the only person in town watching Plummer closely. The next Sunday when her father stopped to visit Thompson at his store, he was surprised when his friend quickly locked the door behind him and then made a check of each window to be sure they could speak in private. "Judge," he asked, "who is doing this robbing?" When Edgerton commenced to expound his theory, Thompson interrupted him. "Plummer!" he said. Edgerton then confided to Thompson that Henry Tilden had recognized Plummer as one of the men who had held him up.
Now that Thompson no longer trusted the sheriff, breaking bread with him daily became an awkward experience, but he continued to eat with the Vail family, always keeping his ears open to learn as much as possible about Plummer's activities. Within only a short time, a new suspicion arose. Since Plummer habitually sent money to his widowed mother in the East, he was frequently on the lookout for a traveler who would act as carrier. On hearing of Edgerton's planned trip to Washington, D.C., the sheriff inquired about the exact date so he could send a package along. Edgerton, fearing he was being set up for a robbery, quickly cancelled his departure, deciding to postpone the trip until something could be worked out to make travelling conditions in the area safer.
When Martha Vail and Plummer came to deliver the invitation to Lucia Darling and the Edgertons, Mattie made good advantage of an opportunity to observe the sheriff at close range. "Plummer seated himself in a chair, which he tilted back against the wall, and hung his hat, which he had removed, over his knee. It was unusual at that time," she added, "for the average miner to take off his hat as a concession to good manners when entering a house. I have no recollection of hearing him speak, but I noted that he seemed ill at ease.... Possibly he, being aware of my scrutiny, felt additional embarrassment." [100]
The Edgertons accepted Mrs. Vail's invitation, partly because the entire community respected her but also because they were afraid to offend Plummer. The Sanderses accepted for the same reasons, and both families showed up decked out in their finest: Hattie, Wilbur, Lucia, Mary, and Sidney, who had put on a white shirt for the first time since his arrival in the territory. If James Vail was present, none of the guests was impressed enough to mention him, regarding Plummer as the head of the Vail household. Mary thought their host was a "very feminine-looking man," but wrote home about the "excellent supper.... I tasted butter for the first time since we came here and it was a treat." [101]
Hattie found the entire evening "memorable," describing the meal Martha had prepared as "one of the most sumptious dinners I ever attended... everything that money could buy was served, delicately cooked and with all the style that would characterize a banquet at 'Sharry's.'" As for Plummer, she described him as "slender, graceful and mild of speech. He had pleasing manners and fine address, a fair complexion, sandy hair and blue eyes -- the last person whom one would select as a daring highwayman and murderer." Her theory about the Plummers' separation was that Electa was a "splendid Christian woman," and her husband had sent her away because he felt that "he was not fit to live with her." She could not help believing that his feelings for Electa were sincere, and "this was his finest trait." [102]
If reliable, Hattie's explanation would resolve the question of the problem existing between Plummer and his wife; however, it contradicts what Electa had told Thompson, that it was her own idea to leave and that her husband had given his consent. Another difficulty in accepting Hattie's idea is that she wrote her account thirty-four years after the events, and the numerous errors she makes in the brief paragraphs about the Vails reveal a very limited acquaintance with the family. Still, Hattie was Martha's nearest neighbor, and though her wording may not be exact, it is likely she, at some point at least, received the impression from Mrs. Vail that Plummer was unfit to live with her younger sister because of his past.
During the critical days of his attempt to live down a bad name, Plummer did not need any reinforcement of former doubts about his character, and certainly not from within his own family. But Martha was probably only repeating feelings Plummer had expressed about his relationship with his wife, a marked change from a few months earlier when he had quietly assured Electa that he was a good man who lacked nothing more than her to make a success of his life, or when he had told Langford, "Now that I am married and have something to live for, and hold an official position... there is a new life before me, and I want you to believe that I am not unfitted to fill it with credit to myself and benefit to the community." [103]
Electa's departure had evidently caused Plummer some selfdoubts. She had wanted to go home, would not stay in the West another day with him, not even after Martha arrived. Possibly her older sister only made things worse with an I-told-you-so attitude about the way her marriage was turning out. Electa had made difficult decisions about the relationship twice, and now it was Plummer's turn to wrestle with the same decision. If he was not her moral equal, it would be unwise to give up a position he valued highly to resume their marriage in the East, especially since the "official position" gave him a sense of worth and his wife made him aware of his unworthiness. Martha, who claimed to feel as responsible for her younger sister as if she were her mother, undoubtedly inserted herself in the issue. Though slightly inaccurate, Hattie Sanders's memoirs may present a fairly precise picture of the emotional conflicts taking place in the Vail household that Thanksgiving.
But overlooking whatever problems they may have been experiencing, the members of the Vail family united to make a pleasant evening for all. Their efforts were not wasted on the guests, Sanders also giving a glowing account of the feast and the eastern polish of the host. As reported to his daughter-in-law, "An assembly of the most prominent citizens" was present to enjoy "delicacies that had never before graced festal board in Bannack. Plummer was the soul of hospitality upon that occasion. His easy flow of conversation ... the well modulated voice which entertained with compliment and jest... his elegant manners, his gracious attention to his guests made him an ideal host." [104]
But Sanders and Edgerton were already making plans for their host's future, and "every man present knew that Plummer was doomed." There were several reasons they were anxious to be rid of him. From the first they had believed him a "desperado," and with the new knowledge Tilden revealed, they feared their lives might be in danger, so much so that Plummer's every action, including a request so simple as carrying a package back East for him, was interpreted as part of a robbery plot.
They also feared Plummer in a political sense. He belonged to the opposition party, a party Edgerton equated with treason. Unlike Plummer, Edgerton was known for the intolerance of his political beliefs, a main factor in his difficulties in the territory. He passed a similar prejudice on to Mattie, who had the pleasure and excitement of her first dance "spoiled" when someone asked her if she were serious about her dancing partner, who "had good looks, intelligence and pleasing manners. All this," she explained, "could not make me overlook the damning fact that he was a Democrat." [105] Plummer was also a Democrat, as experienced and skilled in politics as he was at prospecting for gold and silver, and a dangerous political opponent because his low-key, easy manner appealed to the masses.
On the other hand, both Sanders and Edgerton, conscious of their own moral and social superiority, had a tendency to look down at the miners, who in turn were bored by the long-winded and stuffy lawyer's talk. The uncle and nephew had left Ohio and come to the territory to satisfy political ambition, and they recognized Plummer as a man with whom they would have to contend, a man Sanders thought was "in many respects the most conspicuous citizen of Eastern Idaho." [106] In a political confrontation with Plummer, the two lawyers could easily have come out on the short end. They would not be sorry to see him gone.
Wilbur Sanders, a teetotaler who embarrassed his cousin Mattie by singing too loudly in church, had come West to serve as his uncle's secretary. [107] He was not quite the social equal of the Edgertons, Sidney having been a congressman who had taken his wife to Washington to hobnob with political celebrities and Mary being a sister to the founder of Oberlin College, which Sanders had not attended though he did not mind letting people think he had. Sanders showed due respect for his uncle, recognizing him as the pathway to political success, and in turn Edgerton recognized his nephew's potential, calling on him frequently for counsel and trusting important errands to him. On the morning of the day Hauser and Langford were preparing to leave for Salt Lake and Henry Tilden for Horse Prairie, Edgerton had summoned his secretary for a special mission. A cavalcade of "bold riders" on the best horses to be found in the country, Sanders reported, were galloping the streets of Bannack from one saloon to another, displaying their "perfect horsemanship," and Plummer was among them. In Sanders's eyes at least, it was no credit to the sheriff that he fit in so well with the flashy riders; road agents were known for loving horses, riding them well, and stealing them. Since miners commonly requested Plummer to accompany them to a new silver strike to evaluate the ore, promising him a claim near the discovery for his trouble, on seeing the party of horsemen, Edgerton promptly detected it might be an expedition to a silver mine and dispatched Sanders as an emissary to the group. [108]
As Sanders related, he looked across the street, saw Plummer sitting on his horse, and went over to ask where he was going. Plummer replied he was on his way to take possession of a herd of horses quartered by the Parish ranch on Blacktail-Deer Creek, Parish being near death and several citizens having expressed a fear that his wife, a member of the local Indian tribe, might take the livestock and return with her people to the other side of the mountain. Sanders insisted he was certain the horsemen had other intentions, namely staking quartz claims, but Plummer answered he knew nothing about them. When Sanders persisted, Plummer said, "All right get your horse and come along," but adding he doubted there would be any claim staking done, which Sanders again refuted. The conversation continued on in the same vein until Plummer at last agreed -- if Sanders did not care to come along -- to stake a claim in his behalf should the opportunity arise. Satisfied he had carried out his uncle's wishes, Sanders returned to his office. But Edgerton soon appeared in the doorway with Francis Thompson and Leonard Gridley at his side and urged Sanders to catch up to the Plummer party and ride along with them. "I volunteered to do so at their request," he wrote, "and I went for my blankets and revolver while they proceeded to find me a horse."
When Sanders was ready to leave, he discovered his uncle had procured not a horse, but a "diminutive mule" that balked at climbing the slope to cemetery hill, much to the amusement of those who soon gathered in the street below to watch Gridley struggling to coax the pair to the summit. After half an hour, Sanders and Gridley's combined patience outlasted that of the mule, and all reached the top, only to discover there was no trace of the silver party's trail. In the approaching darkness, Sanders traveled in the direction of the Rattlesnake Station, but when a snow squall contributed to the mule's unwillingness, he was forced to dismount and drive it ahead of him the final eight miles. At the station, he found no news of the ten members of the Plummer party. Accepting the invitation of the bartender, Red Yeager, to share the grass mattress spread before a fire burning on the hearth, Sanders, who conceded that silver fever made strange bedfellows, crawled in next to a suspected horsethief, Bill Bunton, and fell asleep. Though Parish's doctor, who was sleeping in one corner, was too "stupefied by intoxication" to be disturbed, the others were wakened three times, twice by the boisterous arrival of Jack Gallagher and once by Gridley, whom Hattie had sent to rescue Sanders. Back at Edgerton's cabin, Sanders heard the tale of Tilden's holdup, and the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place; Plummer had not been at the Rattlesnake Station on the previous night because he was on Horse Prairie robbing Henry Tilden.
Within a matter of weeks another robbery occurred. On its second day out of Virginia City, the Salt Lake mail stage overtook a strange band of three men, each wearing a blue and green blanket entirely covering the body and a mask pulled over the head with holes cut for eyes and nose and mounted on a horse similarly disguised, blanketed from ears to tail, leaving only eyes, muzzle, and legs exposed. Though two of the passengers were relieved of a total of $500, the robbers missed the money in the mailbags as well as that on the driver, who had been commissioned sums by several persons. Those aboard suspected George Ives of being the ringleader.
In addition to accumulating mining claims and worrying over the robberies, Edgerton was at the time burdened with the more important task of pushing for creation of a new territory in eastern Idaho. During the week before Christmas he sent his nephew to Alder Gulch to enlist support. While Sanders was still there, a wounded grouse led a hunter to the frozen body of Nick Tiebolt, a young man who had been missing for some time. Outraged citizens quickly banded together to arrest the suspects, and Sanders offered to prosecute them.
The main suspect was George Ives, who had been part of the Stuart expedition to the Yellowstone but now worked at boarding horses, mules, and oxen teams that pulled the long supply trains to the gulch. He was a tall, blonde, good-looking young man and an excellent horseman, who owned a fine horse, though he had the uncouth habit of leading it behind him into every store or saloon he patronized. But when mounted on his steed, he presented an impressive sight, Sanders said, sitting his saddle "like a swan on a billowy lake." Plummer had already stated that he suspected Ives of being responsible for the Salt Lake stage robbery, and Sanders, confident Ives was guilty on all counts, viewed the coming trial as a critical struggle between the forces of law and order and those of crime, or as he quite significantly added, if necessary there would be "order without law," [108] a rather strange stance for a lawyer.
The murder victim had disappeared after being sent to pick up a mule team from Ives, and when the corpse, which was badly pecked by magpies on the shoulders and back, was brought into Virginia in a wagon and left on public view, those who examined it were incensed by signs that Tiebolt had been dragged into the brush while still alive. Marks of a small lariat scarred his neck and scraps of sagebrush were clasped in his left hand. Emotions ran high, both among those indignant over the crime and those clamoring for Ives's acquittal.
The trial was held on the snowpacked street of Nevada, where two large wagons were pulled, one to provide seats for the prisoner and his lawyers, the other for witnesses. Near the wagons a blazing bonfire was built from a stack of wood borrowed from a resident who had the bad luck of being absent at the time. Benches loaned from a nearby hurdy-gurdy hall were arranged in a neat semicircle around the fire to form a jury box, and a line of guards armed with shotguns separated the jurors from the nearly one thousand onlookers, who occasionally interrupted proceedings with suggestions and catcalls or simply wandered off, when lawyers' speeches grew monotonous, for a quick trip to a barbershop, restaurant, or saloon.
Sanders did not win any friends on the opening day, combining legal jargon with high-flown language in speeches that just plain lasted too long and calling Buzz Caven, Plummer's deputy in Virginia, a coward and belittling the list of jurors Caven presented because one happened to be a professional gambler. Sanders therefore "had no desire to make their acquaintance." As assistant, Sanders accepted another lawyer mining in the area, Charles Bagg, whom he described as a "stubby, hairy" man, "of dilapidated garb, whose bootlegs did not have sufficient fiber to stand up, and into one of which he had vainly essayed to tuck one of the legs of his pantaloons. " [110] Though according to Francis Thompson, a staunch temperance man, Bagg had the great failing of being "an infernal nuisance" when he was drunk (which was all too frequently), the ragged little lawyer balanced the prosecution team in more ways than one. He and Sanders succeeded in getting one suspect, Long John, to testify that Tiebolt had paid Ives his bill from a buckskin purse full of gold dust, then mounted one mule, and rode off leading the other. For a moment, Ives stood watching him leave and then suggested that they kill him for his money. The group tossed a coin, the lot falling to Ives himself, who rode after Tiebolt, called to him to turn around (since he thought it would be cowardly to shoot him in the back), and fired, hitting him in the head. Ives took the purse, Long John said, left the body where it lay, and brought the mules back to camp. A second witness Sanders might have used was not called upon, a Dr. Glick, whom Langford claims had knowledge that Ives belonged to an organized gang. Glick did testify for the defense later in the trials. Sanders wrote that he also had other witnesses who could have given information about Ives's connection to the stagecoach robbery, but he chose not to use them either, relying solely on Long John's testimony.
The trial lasted three days, the prisoners being bound in logging chains, locked up, and guarded each night. One of the miners who spent a night on guard duty recorded the event in his diary, revealing the miners' weariness of listening to speeches and arguments between the attorneys: "After pacing the heavy watches of the night away morning dawned clear and pleasant," John Grannis wrote. "The court came at an early hour and was called to order by Judge Byham. The lawyers were given until 3 o'clock to get through and submit the case to the jury." [111] And the lawyers met their three o'clock deadline, the judge sending the jury off to a store to deliberate and leaving the audience to shift from one frozen foot to the other in the waning winter sunlight, unwilling to give up their places before hearing the verdict. Within half an hour, the jury returned with a written report, but the decision was not unanimous. One juror felt he must vote his conscience, believing, though George Ives was probably guilty of other robberies, the prosecution had not proven him guilty of Tiebolt's murder.
Unwilling to permit a single juror to spoil his victory, Sanders jumped to the witness wagon and motioned that the assembled crowd ignore the lone dissenting vote and accept the decision of the majority of the jury. His motion carried. Next he moved that Ives be hanged immediately, which also carried. Seeing that Sanders was in control of the crowd, Ives, though bound in chains, slowly made his way over to the prosecutor and took his hand, requesting him to put off the execution until morning. Before Sanders could answer, a guard who had been following events from a perch on the dirt roof of a cabin called down, "Sanders, ask him how long he gave the Dutchman!" But Sanders did not need the help of Beidler, the guard who stood a few inches shorter than the muzzle of his shotgun, to make up his mind. He had already decided to proceed with the hanging, and he made a third motion which also carried: that the court take possession of Ives's property to pay the expenses of board for the three prisoners and the nearly one hundred guards employed throughout the trial. When the defense lawyer protested it was bad enough to kill an innocent man without using his property to pay the expenses of his killers, Sanders responded it was not unusual for the defendant to pay costs after a death sentence, and "if a lawyer was not aware of that fact... he should go to a law school instead of a law office." Surrounded by guards, Ives was led to an unfinished log building and placed on a gum boot box under a dangling rope. As Beidler placed the noose around his neck, the judge asked for final words. Just before the box was pushed from under him, Ives said, "I am innocent of this crime; Alex Carter killed the Dutchman."
Sanders, congratulated for his initiative and courage, was escorted back to Virginia under a large guard that remained with him through the entire week. The next day Long John was set free in reward for his testimony, and the third prisoner, George Hilderman, whom Sanders described as "an old, weak, foolish man," was sentenced to banishment on the grounds of being a conspirator to the murder, Sanders informing the audience that it was the "duty of any person finding him in the settlements after New Year's to shoot him on sight." On hearing his sentence, the old man broke down, protesting he had no way of leaving and did not know where to go, but the only response to his plea was a shout from someone in the crowd advising him to go to hell.
Hilderman, known in the area as "the Great American Pie Biter," had earned the title because of his huge teeth and broad jaws which could spread wide enough to squeeze in seven layers of apple pie. Langford added that the old man was "somewhat imbecile," once having lost a bet after being tricked into biting into a layer of pies that still had tin plates inserted between them and not being able to ascertain why he was not successful in biting through the stack. [112] In his dilemma at being banished without a horse and supplies, Hilderman applied for help to Plummer. He furnished him with a pony and sufficient provisions to leave the area.
At the conclusion of the trials, five men, who concluded that prosecuting the criminal element of the community was going to be too slow and expensive, met in the back room of a Virginia store to adopt a quicker and cheaper method of dispensing justice. Surrounded by darkness, the five members raised their hands as Sanders administered the oath of the newly formed Vigilance Committee, patterned after the San Francisco model, swearing to be true to each other, to reveal no secrets, and to violate no laws of right. The appropriate atmosphere for the formation of this committee had been set by some shocking news that had just reached Virginia City. [113] The pack train of merchant Lloyd Magruder, which had left town early in the fall, had not arrived at its intended destination in the Lewiston area. Some of Magruder's friends felt certain that he had been robbed and killed somewhere along the mountainous Indian trail that wound its way to the western side of the Rockies. The main suspects were themselves members of the Magruder party, the band of "cutthroats" Francis Thompson ushered into Bannack the previous summer. The resulting outrage aroused in Virginia City over the suspected atrocity provided some additional backing for the vigilance movement.
At the beginning of the Tiebolt murder trial, due to the ambience of mob control pervading the proceedings, defense attorneys had dispatched George Lane to Bannack to carry the news to Plummer. But Bannack had already heard about the unauthorized posse that had arrested the suspects and stood guard over the trial, the story of their actions being augmented by rumors that the next intended victims were the law officers at Bannack. Accordingly, a road barrier had been set up outside Bannack, and Lane may not have been able to get through to Plummer. Even if his message did reach the sheriff, there may not have been sufficient time to ride to Alder Gulch before the trials ended. For whatever reason, Plummer did not interfere in the trials, leaving Sanders to carry the day.
George Ives's final words were an accusation of Alex Carter, and the newly formed Vigilance Committee wasted no time in going after the accused. As Dimsdale and Langford told the story, on 23 December, a party of twenty-four men left Virginia, being informed on their arrival at Deer Lodge Creek, that Carter was lying dead drunk at the Cottonwood station after being thrown out of a dance held the night before. But when they reached the station, they discovered that Carter and friends had escaped after receiving a letter of warning from Red Yeager. The vigilantes' informant as to Carter's whereabouts had been none other than Yeager himself, the cook for the group Thompson had escorted into Bannack as well as Sanders's sleeping partner at the Rattlesnake Station on 14 November. For his "criminal interference" with justice by delivering the letter, the group determined to arrest Yeager. He was captured in a wickiup at Rattlesnake and brought back to Dempsey's ranch for questioning. [114]
Yeager, a good-natured, wiry man about 5' 5" tall with fiery red hair and whiskers, admitted delivering the warning, but accused George Brown, the barkeep at Dempsey's, of writing the letter. When Brown confessed to composing the message, the vigilantes took a vote -- unanimous in favor of hanging both Yeager and Brown. At this point, one member of the vigilance group decided he wanted out before things went any further, but others discouraged him by raising their shotguns, pointing them in his direction, and cocking the hammers. Dimsdale said the waverer "concluded to stay." [115]
Fearing to return to town with their two prisoners, the vigilantes took them no further than Laurin's ranch, a few miles down creek from Nevada City, and permitted them to lie down in the corner of the barroom for some sleep. At ten o'clock they were wakened. Yeager sat up, informing his captors he realized his time had come and would therefore tell them all about the gang and die happy if he could only live to see others hang who deserved it more than he. "I don't say this to get off," he assured them. "I don't want to get off."
When the leader urged him to list off the names of the gang so they could be written down, Yeager cooperated. Henry Plummer was the chief; Bill Bunton, second in command; George Brown, secretary; Ned Ray, council room keeper at Bannack City; and the rest, roadsters: Sam Bunton, Cyrus Skinner, George Shears, Frank Parish, Haze Lyons, Bill Hunter, George Ives, Stephen Marshland, Dutch John Wagner, Alex Carter, Whiskey Bill Graves, Johnny Cooper, Buck Stinson, Mexican Frank, Bob Zachary, Boone Helm, Clubfoot George Lane, Billy Terwilliger, and Gad Moore.
Yeager explained that the gang was organized similar to the vigilantes, with captains, lieutenants, and oaths, and that its purpose was to rob, without taking life if possible. Members took an oath to be true to each other and to perform the services required of their respective positions. Those who revealed any of the secrets or disobeyed orders were to be hunted down and killed. To recognize each other they wore mustaches, chin whiskers, and scarves tied in a sailor knot and used the password, "innocent." Though he was a member of the band, Yeager said, he was not a murderer.
After jotting down the list of members, the group, including X. Beidler, the little guard who had served as George Ives's executioner, gathered up lanterns and stools and marched the condemned through the snow to a stand of large cottonwood trees on the riverbank behind Laurin's ranch. As they approached the place of execution, Brown began to pray for his Indian wife and children back in Minnesota, but Yeager reminded him, "Brown, if you had thought of this three years ago, you would not be here now, or give these boys this trouble." Ropes were tied to the tree limbs and one stool placed on top of the other. Brown went first, saying only, "God Almighty, save my soul."
Yeager calmly climbed onto the two stools for his turn, and looking down at the men below him, suggested again, "I wish you would chain me and not hang me until after I have seen those punished who are guiltier than I." When the vigilantes showed no inclination to delay his execution, he shook hands all around. "Goodbye, boys," he said, "you're on a good undertaking. God bless you." Then he fell from the stools. Notes describing their crimes were pinned to the backs of the victims, and the bodies were left dangling from the tree for several days as an example.
As the vigilantes returned to Nevada City, they were dreading the expected confrontation with citizens aroused by their captain having taken justice into his own hands. But all were relieved to find their fellow members fully organized and in power. Despite the freezing weather, the executive committee insisted members go after those on Yeager's list immediately, and four men, among them X. Beidler, were sent to Bannack to carry out the execution of Sheriff Henry Plummer and his two deputies, Buck Stinson and Ned Ray.
Bannack was already in the midst of a problem involving an individual's refusing to submit to the authority of elected officials: Neil Howie had just brought in a prisoner, and on meeting Plummer, had informed the sheriff that he had Dutch John in custody. When Plummer asked what the charge was against him, Howie responded that he was certain John had attempted to rob the Moody wagon train. "Well, I suppose you are willing he should be tried by the civil authorities," Plummer said. "This new way our people have of hanging men without law or evidence isn't exactly the thing. It's time a stop was put to it." [116] Nevertheless, Howie refused to release his prisoner, instead hiding him in a cabin on Yankee Flat.
When Beidler's delegation got to town, however, it was discovered that despite Howie's act of rebellion, forming a branch at Bannack was not going to be as easy as had been expected, and the enlistment of members was temporarily abandoned for that night. The next day Mattie Edgerton heard her father and Sanders discussing the best way to take Plummer, and their conversation gives insight into Sanders's way of thinking: "Wilbur, at first suggested that someone warn Plummer of his danger, and when he went to the stable for his horse have men concealed there to shoot him. On due consideration this seemed to appear more unlawful than previous hangings, and the idea was abandoned." [117] At length Edgerton and Sanders hit on the idea of forming three companies, a separate one for each man to be arrested. Mattie worried over the safety of the men who would be capturing the desperados, feeling certain some would be killed
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