LLOYD MAGRUDER
“In the name of all that is wonderful, Hill, what has kept you up till
this late hour?” was the eager inquiry of Mrs. Maggie Beachy of her
husband, when that gentleman entered his house at two o’clock in the
morning.
“Well, Maggie,” replied her husband, “you remember my dream about Lloyd
Magruder? I fear it has all come true. Indeed, I am perfectly certain
poor Lloyd has been murdered.”
“Nonsense, Hill,” rejoined the wife. “Will you never have done with your
unfounded suspicions? You will make yourself the laughing-stock of the
whole country, and bring all the roughs in it about your ears, if you
don’t cease talking about Magruder.”
“I can’t help it, wife,” persisted Beachy. “Those three rascals, Doc.
Howard, Chris Lowry, and Jim Romaine, with another hangdog-looking
fellow, came into town to-night in disguise, and, under assumed names,
took passage in the coach to Walla Walla. They followed Magruder to the
Bannack mines, and have doubtless killed him while on his way home.
Their cantinas are filled with his gold dust.”
“How improbable, Hill,” said Mrs. Beachy, smiling. “Why, only yesterday
Lloyd’s wife received a letter from him, saying that he would not start
for twelve days, and that he would have a strong company with him.”
“Well, well, Maggie, let’s drop the subject. Time will tell whether my
suspicions are correct.”
Let us inquire into the cause of Hill Beachy’s terrible suspicion.
Three months before this conversation occurred, Lloyd Magruder, a
wealthy merchant of Elk City, loaded a pack train with merchandise, and
made the long and dangerous journey of five hundred miles, by an Indian
trail over the mountains, to the Bannack mines, in that part of Idaho
afterwards embraced in the boundaries of Montana. The night preceding
his departure, Hill Beachy, the landlord of the Luna House in Lewiston,
a warm personal friend of Magruder, dreamed that he saw Chris Lowry dash
Magruder’s brains out with an axe. He related the dream to his wife the
next morning, and expressed great fears for the safety of his friend.
She was desirous of telling Magruder; but as his investment was large,
and he was ready to start upon his journey, Beachy thought it would only
introduce a disturbing element into the enterprise, without effecting
its abandonment, and expose him to the laughter and sneers of the
public. But he did not conceal the anxiety which the dream had
occasioned in his own mind, and was greatly relieved when news came, six
weeks afterwards, of the safe arrival of Magruder at Bannack.
On the morning of the day after Magruder left Lewiston, Howard, Lowry,
and Romaine, in company with Bob Zachary and three other roughs,
departed with the avowed intention of going to Oregon. As soon, however,
as they had proceeded a sufficient distance in that direction to escape
observation, they turned towards Bannack, and after a few days’ journey
were joined by William Page, an old mountain teamster. The party
followed on in the track of Magruder’s train, which they overtook when
within three days’ journey of Bannack, and accompanied it to its place
of destination.
Magruder was disappointed, on his arrival at Bannack, to learn that the
camp had been deserted by most of the miners, who had gone to the
extensive placer mines in Alder Gulch at Virginia City, seventy-five
miles distant, where the writer was then residing. Three days
afterwards, however, he was well satisfied, on his arrival there, to
find an active mining camp of six thousand inhabitants, all eager to
purchase his wares as rapidly as they could be displayed. Howard, Lowry,
Romaine, and Page found comfortable quarters in the building occupied by
Magruder, and were provided by him with employment during his six weeks’
stay in Virginia City. No one, except himself, knew better than they the
amount of his accumulations. His confidence in them was unbounded. On
his offer to pay them two hundred dollars each, they had agreed to
accompany him as assistants and guards on his return to Lewiston. The
negotiations with Magruder for their employment were conducted by
Howard, who was a physician of marked ability, and whose pleasing
address was well calculated to allay all suspicion concerning their real
motives in joining the party. Howard, Lowry, and Romaine, while at
Lewiston, were classed among the vilest roughs of the town. The former
two were understood to be escaped convicts from the California
penitentiary. They had been concerned in numerous robberies, and were
suspected of connection with Plummer’s infamous gang. Magruder, whose
residence was at Elk City, was entirely unacquainted with their history,
and, from the simulated fidelity of their conduct while in his employ,
had no reason to suspect them of criminal designs. He was very fortunate
in the disposition of his merchandise, realizing therefor twenty-four
thousand dollars in gold dust, and a drove of seventy fine mules.
A few days before his departure from Virginia City, Charley Allen, a
successful miner, and two young men, brothers, by the name of Horace and
Robert Chalmers, who had just arrived in the mountains from Booneville,
Missouri, and William Phillips, an old pioneer in the country, arranged
to unite their trains with his, and all make the trip together as one
company. Romaine tried to dissuade Phillips from going with the others,
but gave no reason for what seemed to the latter a strange request.
It was a bright October morning when the train left Virginia City, and
moved slowly down Alder Creek, into the picturesque valley of the
Pas-sam-a-ri. The sun shone; the mountain atmosphere was crisp and
exhilarating. The long plain stretching away to the base of the Ruby
range reflected upon its mirror-like surface that magnificent group of
pine-covered mountains, along whose sides glinted in the sunbeams the
bewitching hues that give them their name. Towering on the right, rose
the twin pinnacles of Ramshorn and Mill Creek; and, afar in the
distance, painted upon the horizon, was the superb outline of the main
range of the old Rockies, and Table Mountain lifting its glittering
plateau of snow far above the surrounding peaks. Filled with the
inspiration naturally enkindled by these majestic views, the men, with
all the animation and abandon of uncaged schoolboys, shouted and sung as
they galloped along and hurried the train across the widespread valley.
Into the hills, over the mountains, across the streams, through the
cañons they scampered, entering Bannack the third day, just as the sun
was setting.
Business detained them at Bannack the three following days. With the
design of misleading the villains at Lewiston who might be on the watch
for his return, Magruder sent by a company which left the morning after
his arrival, a letter to his wife, telling her of his success, and that
he would leave for home with a train strongly guarded, in twelve days.
While he was thus planning the way for a safe return, Howard was equally
busy in maturing a scheme to rob him on the route. This infernal
project, the fruit of long contemplation, he now for the first time
unfolded to Lowry and Romaine, who gave it their eager compliance.
Meeting with Bob Zachary, he confided it to him; but, on learning that
it could not be effected without the possible murder of Magruder, and
the four persons accompanying him, Zachary, villain as he was, declined
all participation in it. It was understood by the three that on the
eighth day of the journey, when the train would make camp in the Bitter
Root Mountains, at a distance of one hundred miles or more from any
white settlers, they would carry their diabolical design into execution.
Howard declared that it could not be done without killing the five
owners of the trains. Page was to be kept in ignorance of the plot until
the eve of its performance.
Animated with the hope of an early reunion with his family, Magruder,
with his companions, left Bannack one bright autumnal morning, and
dashed with his train into the manifold intricacies of the mountain
labyrinth. The burden of care with which one is oppressed, while
travelling through an uninhabited region, exposed continually to the
attacks of Indians and robbers, is always relieved by a sort of wild
exhilaration inseparable from the shifting of scenery, and the varied
occupations and incidents of the journey. And when day after day passes,
without any change in the same monotonous round of employment, men
sometimes desire the variety of a brush with the Indians, or a deer
chase, or an antelope hunt, to ward off their mental depression. But
save an occasional foray upon a herd of antelopes, the train moved
safely onward, without impediment. The three ruffians were particularly
attentive to the duties required of them, winning golden opinions from
those they intended to destroy.
On the evening of the sixth day, the train descended into the valley of
the Bitter Root. The lofty range of mountains which now forms the
boundary between Montana and Idaho stretched along the horizon
displaying alternate reaches illumined by the departing rays of the sun,
and darkened by the shadows of overhanging clouds.
“In three days more,” said Magruder, “we shall descend the range into
Idaho, and all danger will be over.”
Near the close of the second day thereafter, as the mules were slowly
creeping up the trail, when near the summit, Howard rode alongside of
Page, and in a tone of fearful earnestness said to him,
“Page, when we go into camp, to-night, drive the mules half a mile away,
and remain with them till supper time. We are going to kill Magruder and
his four friends. You can help dispose of the bodies when the work is
done, and share in the plunder. As you value your own life, you will not
breathe a word of this to any one.”
Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Page, he could not have been
more terrified. Reckless as his life had been, no stain of blood was on
his soul. Gladly would he have warned Magruder, but the fearful threat
of Howard was in his way. Besides, as Howard had grown into great favor,
he felt that he would not be believed. He decided the conflict with
conscience by resolving to follow the directions of the conspirators.
The spot was not unfamiliar. It had been often occupied for camping
purposes, and was specially favored with water and pasturage. It was
also sheltered by the impenetrable foliage of a clump of dwarf pines and
redwoods. Five minutes’ clamber of the vertebrated peak which rose
abruptly above the camp-fire, would enable one to survey for many miles
the vast volcanic region of mountains, hills, and cañons over which the
trail of the traveller, like a dusky thread, stretched on towards
Lewiston.
The train drew up on the camping ground a little before dark. The sky
was overcast with snow clouds, and the wind blew chill and bleak. Every
sign indicated the approach of one of those fearful snowstorms common at
all seasons in these high altitudes. All the men except Page, who was
with the herd, were gathered around the camp-fire, awaiting supper. As
Page, staggering under the burden of his guilty secret, came to the camp
in answer to a call to supper, Howard met him, and in an ominous
whisper, warned him to retire as soon as his meal was finished, and not
to be seen about the camp until he was wanted.
Magruder and Lowry were assigned to stand guard and watch the herd until
ten o’clock,—the hour agreed upon for the commission of the crime. Page
had built a fire for their accommodation. As they rose to leave the
camp, Lowry, picking up an axe, remarked,
“We shall probably need some wood, and I’ll take the axe along.”
Their departure was regarded as a signal for all to retire. Page had
spread his blankets and lain down some time before, “not,” as he
afterwards said, “to sleep, but to await the course of events.” Allen
crept in by his side. The Chalmers brothers had made their bed twenty
yards distant from the camp-fire; and Romaine, armed to perform the part
assigned to him, stretched himself beside Phillips, his unsuspecting
victim. Howard, the arch and bloody instigator of the brutal tragedy,
demon-like, roamed at large, ready for any service, when the hour came,
necessary to finish the deed.
The evening wore on. The sleep of toil-worn men comes when it is sought;
and soon the only wakeful eyes in the camp were those of the watchers at
the herd, Howard, Romaine, and the wretched Page.
The friendly conversation between Magruder and Lowry, as they sat side
by side at the fire, was not interrupted, until the former looked at his
watch.
“It is nearly ten,” said he, filling his meerschaum, while unconsciously
announcing the hour of his doom.
“I will put some wood on the fire,” said Lowry, picking up the axe, and
rising.
Magruder bent forward towards the fire to light his meerschaum, when the
axe wielded by Lowry descended with a fearful crash into his brain.
Howard, who had been concealed near, sprung forward, and snatching the
axe from Lowry, who seemed for the moment paralyzed at the deed he had
committed, struck several additional blows upon the already lifeless
body of the unfortunate man. The villains then hurried to the spot where
the Chalmers brothers were lying, and while they were despatching them
with the axe, Romaine plunged a bowie-knife into the abdomen of
Phillips, exclaiming at the moment, with an oath,
“You old fool, I have to kill you. I told you at Virginia City not to
come.”
Allen, wakened by the death groan of young Chalmers, had risen to a
sitting posture, and was rubbing his eyes, when Howard stole behind him,
and blew out his brains, by a simultaneous discharge of buckshot from
both barrels of his gun into the back part of Allen’s head.
The work of assassination was complete. The murderers, unharmed, were in
possession of the gold which had caused the dreadful deed.
Page, who had not left his bed, was now summoned by Howard to assist in
the concealment of the bodies. Knowing that his life would pay the
forfeit of disobedience, he hurried to the camp-fire, where Lowry
greeted him with the soul-sickening words,
“It’s a grand success, Bill. We never made a false stroke.”
A heavy snowstorm now set in. The assassins occupied the remainder of
the night in destroying and removing the evidences of their guilt. The
bodies of their victims were wrapped in blankets, conveyed to the summit
of an adjacent ridge, and cast over a precipice into a cañon eight
hundred feet deep, where it was supposed they would be speedily devoured
by wolves. The camp equipage, saddles, straps, blankets, guns, pistols,
everything not retained for immediate convenience, were burned, and all
the iron scraps carefully collected, put into a sack, and cast over the
precipice. All the while these guilty deeds were in progress, the storm
was increasing. When the morning dawned, not a vestige of the ghastly
tragedy was visible. The camp was carpeted to the depth of two feet with
snow, and the tempest still raged. The murderers congratulated each
other upon their success. No remorseful sensations disturbed their
relish for a hearty breakfast. No contrite emotions affected the greedy
delight with which each miscreant received his share of the blood-bought
treasure. No dread lest the eye of the All-seeing, who alone had
witnessed their dark and damning atrocity, should betray them, mingled
with the promises they made to themselves of pleasures and pursuits that
this ill-gotten gain would buy in the world where they were going. One
solitary fear haunted them,—that concerning their escape from the
country.
When this all-absorbing subject was mentioned, they saw and felt the
necessity of avoiding Lewiston; their presence there would excite
suspicion. Howard advised that they should go to a ford of the
Clearwater, fifty miles above Lewiston, and cross over and make a
hurried journey to Puget Sound. There they could take passage on a
steamer to San Francisco or to British Columbia, as after events might
dictate. This counsel was adopted. Mounting their horses, they made a
last scrutinizing survey of the scene of their hellish tragedy, now
covered with snow, and plunged down the western slope of the mountains,
amid the rocks and cañons of Northern Idaho. The expression of Howard,
as he reined his horse away from the bloody theatre, may be received as
an indication of the sentiments by which all were animated.
“No one,” said he, “will ever discover from anything here the
performance in which we have been engaged. If we are only true to each
other, boys, all is safe.”
The animals, with the exception of one horse and seven mules, were
abandoned, but accustomed to follow the tinkle of the bell still
suspended to the neck of the horse, the herd soon appeared straggling
along the trail behind the company. The heartless wretches, thinking to
frighten the animals away, at first shot them one by one as they came
within rifle distance. Finding that the others continued to follow, they
finally drove the entire herd, seventy or more in number, into a cañon
near the trail, and mercilessly slaughtered all the animals composing
it.
Avoiding Elk City by a circuitous route, the party, after several days’
travel, arrived at the ford of the Clearwater. Two broad channels of the
river at this crossing encircled a large island. A mountain torrent at
its best, the river was swollen by recent rains, and its current running
with frightful velocity. Page, who was perfectly familiar with the ford,
dashed in, and was followed by Lowry. They were obliged to swim their
mules before reaching the island, and had still a deeper channel to
cross beyond. Romaine and Howard, who had witnessed the passage from the
bank, were afraid to risk it. A long parley ensued, which finally
terminated in the return of Page and Lowry, and an abandonment of the
ford. A single day’s rations was all the food the company now possessed.
None could be obtained for several days, except at Lewiston, the mention
whereof brought their crime before the ruffians with terrible
distinctness. But there was no alternative. Risk of detection, while a
chance presented for escape, was preferable to physical suffering, from
which there was none. They encountered the risk. Near Lewiston they fell
in with a rancheman, to whom they committed their animals, with
instructions to keep them until their return, and, concealing their
faces with mufflers, entered the town at a late hour of the evening.
With the design of stealing a boat, and making a night trip down Snake
River, to some point accessible to the Portland steamboats, they
proceeded at once to the river bank fronting the town. Piling their
baggage into the first boat they came to, they pushed out into the
stream. The wind was blowing fearfully, and the maddened river rolled a
miniature sea. They had proceeded but a few rods when a sudden lurch of
the boat satisfied them that the voyage was impracticable, and they
returned to shore.
Their only alternative now was to secure a passage that night in the
coach for Walla Walla, or remain in Lewiston at the risk of being
recognized the next day. It was a dark, blustering night. Hill Beachy,
whose invariable custom it was to retire from the office at nine
o’clock, from some inexplicable cause became oblivious of the hour, and
was seated by the stove, glancing over the columns of a much-worn paper.
His clerk stood at the desk, preparing the way-bill for the coach, which
left an hour later for Walla Walla. The street door was locked. Suddenly
the silence without was broken by the heavy tramp of approaching
footsteps. A muffled face peered through the window. Beachy’s attention
was arrested by a hesitating triple knock upon the door, which seemed to
him at the time ominous of wrong. Catching up the lamp, he hurried to
the door, on opening which a tall, well-proportioned man, in closely
buttoned overcoat, with only his eyes and the upper portion of his nose
visible, entered, and with a nervous, agitated step, by a strangely
indirect, circular movement, advanced to the desk where the clerk was
standing.
Addressing the clerk in a subdued tone, he said, “I want four tickets
for Walla Walla.”
“We issue no tickets,” replied the clerk, “but will enter your names on
the way-bill. What names?” he inquired.
For a moment the stranger was nonplussed. Recovering himself instantly,
with seeming nonchalance, he gave the names of John Smith and his
brother Joseph, Thomas Jones and his brother Jim; and, throwing three
double eagles upon the desk, he hastily departed.
As he closed the door, Beachy said to the clerk, “I’m afraid there will
be a stage robbery to-night. Go to the express-office and tell the agent
not to send the treasure chest by this coach. Don’t wake the passenger
in the next room. I will see the citizens who have secured passage, and
request them to wait until to-morrow.”
Still reflecting upon the suspicious conduct of the visitor, Beachy
determined to get a sight of his companions. “There are too many Smiths
and Joneses to be all right,” he said to himself, as he slipped the hood
over his dark lantern and took his way to the hotel where they lodged.
Ascertaining that their apartment fronted the street, he stole quietly
up to the window, which was protected by shutters with adjustable
lattice. This, by a cautious process, he opened, and, peering through,
beheld the four inmates, three of whom he recognized as the ruffians who
had left Lewiston and gone to Bannack three months before.
More deeply confirmed than at the first in the belief that a robbery was
intended, he awaited the approach of the coach, designing to make a
careful survey of the group after they were seated preparatory to
departure. Fifteen or twenty persons, who had heard of Beachy’s
suspicions, several of whom were old associates of Howard and his
companions, followed the coach from the barn to the hotel.
Enveloped in overcoats and blankets, their faces concealed by mufflers,
and their hats drawn down to hide their eyes, the four men climbed into
the coach. Just as the driver gathered up his lines Beachy opened his
lantern, and before the men could wrap their blankets around them, his
quick eye detected that two of the number had each a pair of well-filled
cantinas on his lap. After the coach had driven off, he turned to Judge
Berry, who was standing near, and, in a low but meaning tone, said,
“Lloyd Magruder has been murdered.”
“What makes you think so?” inquired the judge. “Do you recognize these
fellows?”
“Yes, three of them: Howard, Lowry, and Romaine. Their cantinas are
filled with Magruder’s money. I’ll furnish horses and pay all expenses
if you and the sheriff will join me, and we’ll arrest them to-night.”
“Arrest them for what?” asked the judge.
“On suspicion of having murdered Magruder.”
“Why, Hill, the whole town would laugh at us. We certainly could not
detain them without evidence. Besides, your suspicions are groundless.
Mrs. Magruder told me last evening that she did not expect her husband
for ten or twelve days. Let matters rest for the present.”
“I know that Magruder is dead, and that these villains killed him, as
well as if I had seen it done,” rejoined Beachy. “From this time forth,
I am on their track.”
Bidding the judge good-night, he wended his way home, and, on entering
his house, held the conversation with his wife with which this chapter
opens.