ROBBERY OF MOODY’S TRAIN
One cold morning, a few days after the attempted robbery of Mr. Hauser
and the writer, a train of three wagons, with a pack train in company,
left Virginia City for Salt Lake City. Milton S. Moody, the owner of the
wagons, had been engaged in freighting between the latter place and the
mines ever since their first discovery. His route on the present trip
lay through Black Tail Deer, Beaverhead, and Dry Creek cañons, so named
after the several streams by which they are traversed. Bannack was left
twenty miles to the right of the southern angle in the road at
Beaverhead Cañon, and except three or four ranches, there were no
settlers on the route.
Among the packers were Messrs. John McCormick, M. T. Jones, William
Sloan, John S. Rockfellow, J. M. Bozeman, Melanchthon Forbes, and Henry
Branson,—energetic business men, who had accumulated a considerable
amount in gold dust, which they took with them to make payments to
Eastern creditors. Buckskin sacks, containing about eighty thousand
dollars, were distributed in cantinas through the entire pack train, no
one pair of cantinas containing a very large sum. Besides this amount,
there was in a carpet-sack in one of the wagons, fifteen hundred dollars
in treasury notes, enclosed in letters to various persons in the States,
and sent by their friends and relatives in the mines.
The men in the train were well armed, and anticipated attack by the
robbers at some point on the route, but they determined upon fighting
their way through. Plummer had been on the watch for their departure a
week or more before they left, and through his spies was fully informed
of the amount they took with them. He made preparations for surprising
them in camp after nightfall, on their second day out, well knowing that
some would then be seated, others lying around their camp-fires, and
still others spreading their blankets for the night. Two of the boldest
men in the band, John Wagner, known as “Dutch John,” and Steve
Marshland, were selected for the service. They followed slowly in track
of the train. Coming in sight of the camp-fire in Black Tail Deer Cañon
after dark on the evening appointed, they hitched their horses in a
thicket at a convenient distance, and, with their double-barrelled guns
loaded with buckshot, crawled up, Indian fashion, within fifteen feet of
the camp. By the light of the fire, they were enabled to take a survey
of the party and its surroundings. The campers were dispersed in little
groups engaged in conversation, ignorant of the approach of the robbers,
but fully prepared to meet them. Mr. McCormick, who had done some
friendly services for Ives, was warned by him, when on the eve of
departure, not to sleep at all, never to be off his guard, nor separate
from his comrades, but to keep close in camp until after they had
crossed the range. As soon as the robbers comprehended the situation,
they withdrew to the thicket and held a consultation. Wagner, the bolder
of the two, proposed that they should steal again upon the campers,
select their men, and kill four with their shotguns, it being quite
dark; that they should then, by rapid firing, quick movements, and loud
shouting, impress the survivors with the belief that they were attacked
by a numerous force in ambush.
“They will then,” said Wagner, “run away, and leave their traps, and we
can go in and get them.”
This scheme, none too bold or hazardous for Wagner to undertake,
presented a good many embarrassments to the more timid nature of his
companion. Bold as a lion at the outset, he now found his courage, like
that of Bob Acres, “oozing out of his fingers’ ends.” The more Wagner
urged the attack, the stronger grew his objections, until at length he
flatly refused, and the experiment was abandoned until the next morning.
The campers knew nothing of this. One by one they sank to rest, and
arose early the next morning to pursue their journey. While seated
around the camp-fire at breakfast, near a sharp turn in the road, their
attention was suddenly arrested by a voice issuing from the thicket,
uttering the following ominous words:
“You take my revolver and I’ll take yours, and you come right after me.”
In a twinkling every man sprang for his gun and cocked his revolver. The
sharp click, that “strange quick jar upon the ear,” probably satisfied
the robbers that they had been overheard, for in a few moments after up
rode Wagner and Marshland, with their shotguns thrown across their
saddles, ready for use. The confused expression of the robbers when they
saw that every man was prepared for their approach, betrayed their
criminal designs. Recovering themselves in a moment, Marshland, who
recognized Sloan, in a friendly tone called out,
“How do you do, Mr. Sloan?”
“Very well, _thank you_,” replied Billy, laying particular stress upon
the complimentary words, the significance of which would have been more
apparent, had he known that Marshland’s cowardice the night before had
probably saved his life.
The road agents inquired if the party had seen any horses running at
large, or whether they had any loose stock in their train.
“We have not,” was the prompt reply.
“We were told by some half-breeds we met,” said Marshland, “that our
animals were running with your train, and we rode on, hoping to find
them.”
“It’s a mistake,” was the answer, “we have no horses but our own.”
With this assurance the robbers professed to be satisfied, and galloped
on.
These successive failures only strengthened the villains in their
determination to rob the train. They awaited its arrival in Red Rock
Valley two days after leaving it, with the intention of attacking it
there, at the hour of going into camp. When near the summit of the ridge
which divides the waters of the Red Rock from those of Junction Creek,
the packers, according to custom, rode on ahead of the wagons to select
a suitable stopping-place for the night. Three or four men only were
left in charge of the teams. The robbers supposed that the treasure was
hidden away in some of the carpet-sacks in the wagons, now near the top
of the divide. The brisk pace of the pack-horses soon took them out of
sight and hearing of their companions in the rear. Assured of this, the
robbers, disguised in hoods and blankets, dashed out of a ravine in
front of the wagons, and in a peremptory tone, covering the drivers with
their shotguns, commanded them to halt. Gathering the drivers together,
they ordered them not to move, at their peril; and while Dutch John sat
upon his horse, with his gun aimed at them, Marshland dismounted, and
engaged in a speedy search of both drivers and vehicles. Unperceived by
the robbers, Moody had slipped a revolver into the leg of his boot. He
also had a hundred dollars concealed in a pocket of his shirt, which
escaped notice. The other drivers had no money on their persons. After
disposing of the men, Marshland went to the wagons, where he was
fortunate enough to find the carpet-sack containing the letters in which
were enclosed the fifteen hundred dollars in greenbacks. Pocketing this,
and still intent upon finding the gold, he proceeded to the rear wagon,
which fortunately was occupied by Forbes and a sick comrade. As soon as
Marshland climbed to the single-tree, Forbes, who had been in wait for
him, fired his revolver through a hole in the curtain, wounding him in
the breast. With an oath and yell, the robber fell to his knees, but
recovering himself, jumped from the wagon, fell a second time, regained
his feet, and ran with the agility of a deer to the pine forest. Dutch
John’s horse, frightened at the shot, reared just as its rider
discharged both barrels of his shotgun at the teamsters. The shot
whizzed just above their heads. Moody now drew his revolver from his
boot, and opened fire upon the retreating figure of Dutch John, the ball
taking effect in his shoulder. Urging his horse to its utmost speed,
John was soon beyond reach of pursuit; but had Moody followed him on the
instant, he might have brought him down. The packers who had gone into
camp, were no less gratified to hear of the successful repulse, than
astonished at the bold attack of the freebooters. Marshland’s horse,
arms, equipage, and twenty pounds of tea, of which he had rifled a
Mormon train a few days before, were confiscated upon the spot.
Rockfellow and two other packers rode back to the scene of the robbery,
where, striking Marshland’s trail, they followed it, searching for him
till eleven o’clock. He admitted afterwards, when captured, that they
were at one time within fifteen feet of him. They found, scattered along
the route, all the packages of greenbacks he had taken. He gained
nothing by his attack, was badly wounded, froze both his feet on his
retreat to Deer Lodge, and lost his horse, arms, and provisions. Both of
Dutch John’s hands were frozen, but he was fortunate in meeting J. X.
Beidler, who bound them up for him, not knowing at the time the
villain’s occupation. “X,” as he is called by all the mountaineers,
always accounted this kindly act to the retreating ruffian as a stroke
of bad fortune. “Had I only known,” says he when telling the story, “I
would have bandaged his hands with something stronger than a
handkerchief.”
The serious part of the transaction being over, our wayfarers had
abundant sport for the remainder of their long journey, in determining
the rights of the respective claimants to the booty. Forbes claimed
Marshland’s horse and accoutrements, because it was his shot that caused
the robber to take flight. Moody insisted upon his right to an equal
share, in compensation for the wounds he gave Dutch John. The two
teamsters set up a claim, upon the principle that all ships in sight are
entitled to a share in the prize. If steersmen represented schooners at
sea, teamsters were the proper representatives of “prairie schooners.”
The subject was debated at every camp made on the journey, and finally
determined by electing a judge from their number, impanelling a jury,
and going through all the forms of a regular trial. The verdict gave
Forbes the possession of the property on payment of thirty dollars to
Moody, and twenty dollars to each of the teamsters. The party arrived at
Salt Lake City without further molestation.