RESULT OF IVES’S EXECUTION
The confederates of Ives spared no efforts, while his trial was in
progress, to save him. When intimidation failed, they appealed to
sympathy; and when that proved unavailing, it was their intention, by a
desperate onslaught at the last moment, to attempt a forcible rescue.
They were deterred from this by the rapid clicking of the gun-locks at
the moment of the execution. All through the weary hours of the trial,
their hopes were encouraged with the belief that Plummer, their chief,
would come, and demand the custody of Ives; and if refused, obtain it by
a writ of _habeas corpus_, in the name of the civil authorities of the
Territory. But if he obeyed the summons of Clubfoot George, which is at
best problematical, he acted no conspicuous part. A saloon-keeper by the
name of Clinton was very positive that he saw him drink at his bar a few
moments before the execution, and that he immediately went out to lead
the “forlorn hope” of the roughs. Some other person was probably
mistaken for the robber chief, as he was not recognized by any others of
the crowd present at the time. In fact he had enough to do to make
provision for his own safety; for Rumor, with her thousand tongues, had
carried the intelligence of the arrest of Ives to Bannack, before the
arrival there of Clubfoot George. He found the people wild with
excitement over a version of the arrest, which Plummer himself had
already circulated, coupled with a statement that a Vigilance Committee
had been formed at Virginia City, a number of the best citizens hanged,
and that from three hundred to five hundred armed men were on the march
to Bannack, with the intention of hanging him, Ned Ray, Buck Stinson,
George Crisman, A. J. McDonald, Thomas Pitt, and others. This
anticipatory announcement was made with the hope that by mingling the
respectable names of Crisman, McDonald, and Pitt, with those of Stinson,
Ray, and his own, he might divert, or at least divide, the attention
which would otherwise inculpate only the real villains. It produced a
momentary sensation, but failed of effect.
George Ives was no common desperado. Born of respectable parents, he was
reared at Ives’s Grove, Racine County, Wisconsin. The foreground of his
life was blameless; and it was not until he came to the West that he
developed into the moral monster we have seen. His career as a miner in
California, in 1857–58, though wild and reckless, was unstained by
crime. No accusation of dishonesty was made against him, until after his
employment as a herder of government mules belonging to the military
post at Walla Walla, in Washington Territory. The heavy storms of that
latitude, often destructive to herds in the mountains, afforded him
opportunity from time to time, by reporting the fatality to the herd in
his charge greater than it was, to obtain for himself quite a large
number of animals. The deception was not discovered until after his
departure. He was by turns a gambler and a rowdy in all the mining
settlements on Salmon River. His downward course, once commenced, was
very rapid. On one occasion he surprised the man who had employed him as
a herder, by riding into a saloon kept by him at Elk City. After the man
had seized the horse by the bridle, Ives drew and cocked his pistol to
shoot him, but was prevented by a fortunate recognition of his old
employer. He apologized, and withdrew; and on several occasions
afterwards, proffered him the gray horse he rode as a present, which the
gentleman, convinced that Ives had stolen the animal, as often declined
to accept. He was only twenty-seven years of age at the close of his
bloody career in Montana. His appearance was prepossessing. In stature
nearly six feet, with light complexion, neatly shaven face, and lively
blue eyes, no one would ever have suspected him of dishonesty, much less
of murder, and cold-blooded heartlessness. And yet, probably, few men of
his age had ever been guilty of so many fiendish crimes.
George Hilderman was fortunate in being put upon trial immediately after
the execution of Ives. Ten days later he would have been hanged upon the
same evidence. It was proved that he knew of the murder of Tiebalt, and
of the murder of the unknown man near Cold Spring ranche, neither of
which he had divulged. He had even concealed the stolen mules, and knew
the persons engaged in the stage robberies, and was found guilty upon
general principles, but recommended to mercy. Upon being informed of the
verdict, he dropped upon his knees, and exclaimed,
“My God! is it so!”
He then made a statement confirming all that Long John had testified to
concerning Ives.
The people commiserated his hapless condition. He was an old man, weak,
somewhat imbecile. They concluded that his silence had been enforced by
the threats of Ives and his associates, and that, as there was no proof
implicating him directly with robbery or murder, they would sentence him
to banishment from the Territory. Ten days were given him in which to
leave. Glad to escape with his life, he applied to Plummer for
assistance. Plummer advised him to remain; but the old man took wiser
counsel from his fears. He decided to go. Plummer gave him a pony and
provisions, and he left Montana forever.
Hilderman was possessed of a coarse humor, which he had lost no
opportunity to demonstrate, while a sojourner at Bannack. It made him
quite a favorite with the miners, until they became suspicious of his
villainous propensities. He was also a notorious “bummer,” and was
oftener indebted to his humor, which was always at command, than his
pocket, which was generally empty, for something to eat. In width, his
mouth was a deformity, and the double row of huge teeth firmly set in
his strong jaws gave to his countenance an animal expression truly
repulsive. He was the original of the story of “The Great American
Pie-biter.” This feat of spreading his jaws so as to bite through seven
of Kustar’s dried-apple pies, had been frequently performed by him, in
satisfaction of the wager he was ever on hand to make of his ability to
do it. On one occasion, however, he was destined to be defeated. A
miner, who had been victimized by him, arranged with Kustar, the
proprietor of the Bannack Bakery, to have two of the pies inserted in
the pile without removing the tin plates in which they had been baked,
the edges of which were concealed by the overlapping crusts. Hilderman
approached the pile, and spreading his enormous mouth, soon spanned it
with his teeth. The crunch which followed, arrested by the metal, was
unsuccessful. He could not understand it, but, despite the vice-like
pressure, the jaws would not close. The trick not being discovered, he
paid the wager, declaring that Kustar made the toughest pie-crust he had
ever met with.
Long John purchased his freedom by his testimony, and nothing appearing
against “Tex” at the time, he also was released.
The execution of Ives had a terrifying effect upon the ruffian horde,
though a few of them put a bold face upon the matter and were as loud in
their threats as ever. The prominent actors in that drama were singled
out for slaughter, but no serious instance of personal assault occurred.
The ruffians felt secure, as long as they were unknown, and the only
revelation yet made was insufficient to implicate any of them with the
numerous murders and robberies that had been committed. Facts had
appeared upon the trial, making it probable that Carter was accessory to
the murder of Tiebalt. The assassination of Dillingham was unavenged.
Either of these causes, in the excited state of the public mind, was
sufficient to remind the people that the work they had to perform was
but just begun. If what they had done was right, it would be wrong to
permit others equally guilty to escape. Carter, Stinson, and Lyons must
be punished.
This spontaneity of thought brought a few of the citizens of Virginia
and Nevada into consultation the day following the execution; and before
the close of the succeeding day, a league was entered into, in which all
classes of the community united, for the punishment of crime and the
protection of the people. Before the organization of this committee was
completed, a fresh impulse was given to the public indignation on
receipt of intelligence that Lloyd Magruder, a merchant of Elk City, and
the independent Democratic candidate for Congress, who had been trading
in Virginia City during the fall, had, while on his return to his home,
with four others, been cruelly murdered and robbed by a number of the
gang, in the Bitter Root Mountains. Full particulars of this terrible
tragedy will be given in the two following chapters.
Magruder was very popular with the people of Virginia City. The
committee went to work immediately. Twenty-four of them, well mounted,
and provisioned for a long ride, started in pursuit of Carter. That
villain, accompanied by William Bunton, Graves, and several others, in
anticipation of arrest, left as soon as the trial of Ives was over, for
the west side of the range. The pursuers followed on his trail as
rapidly as possible, into the Deer Lodge Valley. While riding down the
valley, the vanguard of the scouts met Erastus Yager, who from the
redness of his hair and whiskers was familiarly called “Red.” He
informed them that Carter and his companions were lying drunk at
Cottonwood (since Deer Lodge City), and that they avowed themselves good
for at least thirty of any men that might be sent to arrest them.
The party had suffered severely from the wintry blasts and storms,
especially while crossing the divide; and they were glad that both
strategy and comfort favored their detention for the next twenty hours
at the ranche of John Smith, seventeen miles above Cottonwood. At three
o’clock in the afternoon of the next day, they left for Cottonwood,
expecting to surprise and capture the fugitive without difficulty. How
great was their disappointment, to find that both he and his companions
had fled. A distant camp-fire in the mountains at a later hour convinced
them that further pursuit at that time would end in failure. They
learned upon inquiry that the ruffians had received a message from
Virginia City, warning them of the approach of the Vigilantes. And this
intelligence was afterwards confirmed by a letter which was found at
their camping ground, the writing of which was recognized as that of one
George Brown, who was supposed to belong to the gang. It afterwards
transpired that “Red,” or Yager, was the messenger who brought this
letter, and that he had killed two horses on the expedition.
Disappointed in the object of their search, the scouts now determined to
return by way of Beaverhead Rock, and, if possible, arrest both Brown
and “Red” for their criminal interference.
Their sufferings from exposure to the keen December storms were intense.
Arriving at Beaverhead, they camped in the willows, without shelter or
fire, except such as could be enkindled with green willows. Some of
their animals strayed to a cañon to escape the severity of the storm.
After remaining in camp at this place for two days, they ascertained
that “Red” was at Rattlesnake, twenty miles distant. A small party of
volunteers started immediately to arrest him, while the others, _en
route_ to Virginia City, stopped at Dempsey’s to await their return.
At Stone’s ranche the pursuers obtained fresh horses from the stage
stock of Oliver & Co., and resumed their dismal journey to Rattlesnake.
The weather was intensely cold, but this offered no impediment to the
pursuit of their journey. Arriving at Rattlesnake, they surrounded the
ranche, while one of their number entered. Stinson and Ray, both
present, had in their capacity as deputies of Plummer arrested a man,
whom they held in custody. Stinson, who disliked his visitor, confronted
him with his revolver; but seeing a like implement already in the hands
of the scout, who “had the drop” on him, he returned his weapon to its
sheath.
“I have come to arrest ‘Red’ for horse-stealing,” said the scout.
On hearing this, Stinson and Ray released their prisoner, on his promise
to go immediately to Bannack and surrender himself. The man started
forthwith to comply with his promise.
Meantime the scout joined his party outside, and they all rode hurriedly
to a wakiup a few hundred yards up the creek, which they surrounded
while the leader entered, observing as he did so,
“It’s a mighty cold night. Won’t you let a fellow warm himself?”
Advancing towards the fire, his eyes fell upon “Red.” Raising his
revolver, he said, “You’re the man I’m looking for. Come with me.”
“Red” asked no questions, and exhibited no terror. Putting on his hat,
and gathering his blankets under his arm, he did as he was ordered, with
as much apparent nonchalance as if he were going on a holiday excursion.
When told that he would be taken to Virginia City, he simply manifested
by a glance that he fully comprehended the situation, and acted in all
respects, while a prisoner, as one who knew his doom was irrevocable.
The scouts took him to the ranche, where they passed the night.
They left early the next morning; “Red” unarmed, on his own horse, and
riding beside one of the scouts. The dreary ride through snow and wind
was enlivened by the stumbling mule of the leader, which on one occasion
rolled over, and after safely depositing its rider, made two or three
somersaults down a steep bank, plunging headlong into a snowdrift at the
bottom, which completely enveloped him.
At Dempsey’s the captors joined the main party. Fatigued with the
journey through the drifts, they took supper, provided for the security
of their prisoner, and enjoyed a night’s repose. Brown, the man who had
written the warning missive to Carter, was the bar-keeper, and a sort of
general factotum of the ranche. He had been for some time suspected as a
petty thief and robber, without the courage needful to engage in graver
offences. The Vigilantes saw that he was terrified, as soon as they
arrived, though unconscious of the evidence they had obtained against
him.
In the morning the captain of the Vigilantes, in a private interview
with “Red,” charged him with being connected with the robber horde.
“Red” denied all knowledge of its existence.
“Why, then,” inquired the captain, “should you have been at such pains
to apprise the rascals that the Vigilantes were on their track?”
“It was the most natural thing in the world,” “Red” replied. “I stopped
here on my way to Deer Lodge, and Brown, on being told of my
destination, asked me to take a letter to Alex Carter and some friends.
I knew no reason why I should refuse, and did so.”
Brown was then called in, and “Red” repeated the statement in his
presence. Brown did not deny it, but betrayed by his blanched cheeks and
trembling limbs that it was true. The captain, laying his hand upon his
shoulder, and looking him steadily in the eye, said,
“Brown, you must consider yourself under arrest; we will at once proceed
to a full investigation of this matter. It looks very dark for you.”
He was put under guard, to await the termination of the trial of “Red,”
which was at once commenced. When this was over, Brown was subjected to
a second examination before the entire company.
“Did you write this letter of warning?” inquired the captain.
“I did,” replied Brown.
“Why?”
“‘Red’ came to Dempsey’s and said he was going to see the boys, and
asked me if I had any word to send them, offering to carry it for me. I
wrote them that the Vigilantes were after them, and advised them to
leave.”
No other explanation was given; and on their own confessions, and some
additional proof showing that “Red” had made inconsistent statements to
different persons belonging to the Vigilantes, while passing them on his
return from Cottonwood, with a view to deceive them as to the
whereabouts of Carter,—the company withdrew to the Stinking Water
bridge, to decide upon the guilt or innocence of the prisoners.
“Boys,” said the captain, addressing the assemblage, “you have heard
what these men have had to say for themselves. I want you to vote
according to your consciences. If you think they ought to suffer
punishment, say so; if you think they ought to go free, vote for it. Be
very careful to do the right thing for yourselves, as well as for the
prisoners. All those in favor of hanging them, step to the right side of
the bridge; and those who are for letting them go, to the left side.”
So thoroughly convinced were the men of the guilt and complicity of the
prisoners with the road-agent gang, that every man passed immediately to
the right.
The culprits started immediately, under the escort of seven men and a
leader, in the direction of Virginia City. Two hours afterwards they
arrived at Lorrain’s ranche, where they were joined at sundown by the
other members of the company, who, after a brief consultation, rode on
to Virginia City. After they had gone, the leader lay down in his
blanket on the parlor floor, to snatch a few hours of repose. Precisely
at ten o’clock, he was awakened by a slight shake, and the words,
“The hour has arrived. We mean business, and are waiting for you.”
He arose and went to the bar-room, where Brown and “Red” lay in the
corner asleep. “Red” was the first to awaken. Rising to his feet, he
addressed the leader in a sad and despondent tone.
“You have treated me like a gentleman,” said he. “I know that my time
has come. I am going to be hanged.”
“That’s pretty rough, ‘Red’” interjected the leader.
“Yes. It’s pretty rough, but I merited it years ago. What I want to say
is, that I know all about this gang. There are men in it who deserve
death more than I do; but I should die happy, if I could see them
hanged, or know it would be done. I don’t say this to get off. I don’t
want to get off.”
“It will be better for you, ‘Red,’” said the Vigilantes, “at this time
to give us all the information in your possession, if only for the sake
of your kind. Times have been very hard. Men have been shot down in
broad daylight, not alone for money, or even hatred, but for mere luck
and sport, and this must have a stop put to it.”
“I agree to it all,” replied “Red.” “No poor country was ever cursed
with a more bloodthirsty or meaner pack of villains than this,—and I
know them all.”
On being urged by the leader to furnish their names, which he said
should be taken down, “Red” told him that Henry Plummer was chief of the
band; Bill Bunton, stool pigeon and second in command; George Brown,
secretary; Sam Bunton, roadster; Cyrus Skinner, fence, spy, and
roadster; George Shears, horse-thief and roadster; Frank Parish,
horse-thief and roadster; Hayes Lyons, telegraph man and roadster; Bill
Hunter, telegraph man and roadster; Ned Ray, council-room keeper at
Bannack City; 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
Terwiliger, Gad Moore, roadsters.
These men were bound by an oath to be true to each other, and were
required to perform such services as came within the defined meaning of
their separate positions in the band. The penalty of disobedience was
death. If any of them, under any circumstances, divulged any of the
secrets or guilty purposes of the band, he was to be followed and shot
down at sight. The same doom was prescribed for any outsiders who
attempted an exposure of their criminal designs, or arrested any of them
for the commission of crime. Their great object was declared to be
plunder, in all cases, without taking life if possible; but if murder
was necessary, it was to be committed. Their password was “Innocent.”
Their neckties were fastened with a sailor’s knot, and they wore
mustaches and chin whiskers. He was himself a member of the band, but
not a murderer.
Among other disclosures, “Red” attributed his hapless condition to Bill
Hunter, at whose instigation, years before, he had entered upon a career
of infamy. He hoped the committee would not spare him. He gave the
particulars of the robberies of the coaches, and the names of all
engaged in this as well as many other crimes.
After listening to this frightful narrative, and making such memoranda
as they might need for future operations, the little party of Vigilantes
carefully reconsidered the vote they had taken, and decided that the two
culprits should be executed immediately. In the course of the narrative,
“Red” had fully implicated Brown. In the Indian campaign in Minnesota in
1862, Brown was a scout for Gen. William R. Marshall (brother-in-law of
the writer), who regarded him as not a notoriously bad man, but as one
who had little moral principle or force of character, and who was easily
influenced by his associates.
Less than a quarter of a mile distant, in rear of Lorrain’s, on a
beautiful curve of the Pas-sam-a-ri, stood several majestic cottonwoods,
by far the finest trees in all that region. Two, which stood side by
side, were selected as the scaffolds. It was a dim starlit night, and a
lantern was necessary to complete the preparations for the execution.
The cold blast from the immediate mountains howled fearfully as the
little procession tramped through the snow, with their prisoners in
charge, to the fatal spot. The night was not darker than the gloom which
had settled upon the minds and hearts of these condemned wretches.
“Red,” however, was perfectly collected. Not a sigh escaped him, nor a
tear dimmed his eyes. Brown was all excitement. He begged piteously for
mercy, and prayed for his Indian wife and family. They were in
Minnesota. “Red,” more affected by the terror and moans of his comrade
than his own hapless condition, said to him in a sad but firm tone,
“Brown, if you had thought of this three years ago, you wouldn’t be here
now, or give the boys this trouble.”
A few branches were clipped from a lower limb of each of the trees, and
the ropes suspended. Two stools brought from the ranche, by being placed
one upon the other, served the purpose of a drop. A Vigilante, while
adjusting the noose to the neck of Brown, stumbled, and both he and
Brown fell together into the snow. Recovering himself, he said, by way
of apology,
“We must do better than that, Brown.”
It was a chance remark, proceeding from a motive which it failed to
express; better interpreted by those who heard it, than I fear it will
be by my readers.
When all was ready, Brown, with the petition upon his lips, “God
Almighty save my soul,” was launched from the platform, and died without
a struggle.
“Red” witnessed the scene unmoved. When his turn came, and he stood upon
the frail trestle, he looked calmly around upon his executioners.
“I knew,” said he, “that I should be followed and hanged, when I met the
party in Deer Lodge Valley; but I wish you would chain me, and not hang
me until after I have seen those punished who are guiltier than I.”
Just before he fell, he shook hands with all, and then turning to the
Vigilante who had escorted him to Lorrain’s, he said,
“Let me beg of you to follow and punish the rest of this infernal gang.”
“‘Red,’” replied the man, “we will do it, if there’s any such thing in
the book.”
“Good-bye, boys,” said “Red,” “you’re on a good undertaking. God bless
you.”
The stools fell, and the body of the intrepid freebooter swung lifeless
in the midnight blast.