Thus ended this series of tragedies, so far as Golden was involved. The officers, before returning to Denver, scoured the town of Golden and the surrounding country in search of Duggan, but failed to find him. Indeed, they soon became convinced that he had lost no time in leaving the place, and as there were then few residences either in the mountains or on the plains, there was little hope of overtaking him if pursuit should be decided upon. Consequently Gen. Cook decided to return to Denver with his men, and to send out information in all directions to his assistants of the detective association concerning the escape of the desperado, paying $50 to the landlord of the Overland house before leaving for damages done to the bed in which Franklin lay. The man who shared Franklin’s bed was found to be a deserter from the army and was turned over to the military authorities.

CHAPTER XIV.

The night was well advanced when the officers, who had gone to Golden, returned to Denver. Indeed, the morning was coming on, so that they were late in reaching their homes. Being well worn with the night’s excitement and fatigue, they slept late on Monday morning. When they came out they found Denver in a state of general excitement. The story of the resistance which the officers had met with from the desperadoes in attempting to make the arrests in Golden had been generally circulated. The people were just then beginning to appreciate for the first time the real character of the outlaws who had so recently been in their midst. They had never before dreamed that these highwaymen would be guilty of outright murder. Their eyes were opened for the first time. Evidence had accumulated of Franklin’s having been a partner of Musgrove. Even after the bold robberies of the preceding Friday night, Franklin had had the assurance to go to the jail where Musgrove was confined and ask for a conference with that individual. After this interview Musgrove made general announcement of the fact that his escape was planned for an early day, on such a perfect scale that it would not be within the power of the authorities to prevent it. It was also generally understood that there were many other desperadoes in the city, who, it was believed, had come to Denver for the purpose of assisting Musgrove to throw off his prison shackles. At any rate, the town was known to be full of bad characters, and the number was increasing every day. It was generally agreed that something must be done to teach these ruffians that Denver was no place for them. The laws were imperfect; it was difficult to convict witnesses, and the prisons were mere pens, out of which criminals could escape with small effort. There was but little for them to fear from the due process of law. Some more speedy remedy for the evil existing was needed. The community was sick and must be cured. A limb had been fractured, and amputation was necessary. Heroic remedies were demanded.

So the people were beginning to talk about noon of Monday, November 23. Some one suggested that the proper and salutary thing to do would be to hang Musgrove. The idea was wildfire in a dry prairie. It passed from one to another, and all the good people declared that Musgrove should be hanged by the people in the interest of the people—without technical warrant of law, but for the same purpose as that for which legal executions are intended, namely, to punish crime and to furnish a warning to evil-doers wherever found. On general principles Musgrove deserved hanging. The West is a region which believes in giving every man his deserts. So Musgrove must hang. This was the verdict of the town.

Up to 3 o’clock there had been no organized meeting, notwithstanding the talk of lynching had been general, and almost everybody had come to understand that a tragedy of this kind might be expected at any moment. By 3 the people began to gather on Larimer street. A few minutes later found them marching by the score, as if by common consent, towards the county jail, in which Musgrove was confined. There were hundreds in the procession when the prison was reached. There was no general expression to denote the intention of the mob, but all understood its purpose. There were no masks worn or disguises adopted. It was broad daylight. The best men in the town were in that procession—lawyers, doctors, and probably ministers, business and professional men. No officer dared stand in the way of that gathering. It was the people about to do the people’s will.

Arrived in front of the jail a halt was called. Some one mounted an elevation. There was no disorder. “The question before you,” rang out the voice of the speaker, “is, shall Musgrove be taken out of jail?”

There was a unanimous “Yes!”

“The next question is, shall he be hanged when taken out?”

The same unbroken “Yes” was the response.

There were none to object.

The jail was promptly entered. No obstacles were thrown in the way by the officials. Musgrove had himself been an auditor of the proceedings which had just been conducted on the outside of his prison house. But he had not been dumbfounded by the revelations made to him of his approaching fate. He met the mob with a bold face. “Come on!” he exclaimed, defiantly, “I am ready for you.”

He was found to be armed with a heavy pine knot with which some one had provided him. This he hurled defiantly in the air. None cared to approach him while he held this formidable weapon. Hence the stratagem of firing two or three shots over his head was resorted to. This policy brought the desperado to terms. Musgrove agreed to surrender peaceably on condition that he be not shot down. He was consequently taken out of jail.

Once on the street the procession made towards the Larimer street bridge across Cherry creek. Musgrove was fairly pushed forward by the pressure from the crowd which followed behind. He walked onward in a sullen and uncommunicative mood, glancing to one side and then the other as if looking for assistance. But none came. When he reached the bridge he apparently lost all hope. He never once asked for mercy or made a single plea for his life.

Lynching of Musgrove.

“If you are bent upon murdering me,” he said at last, “you will at least be men enough to permit me to write to my friends and tell them the shameful story of your conduct towards me.” No one objected, and when the middle of the bridge was reached a halt was called and Musgrove was furnished with paper and pencil. Bending over the railing of the bridge he scratched off two brief notes, one to a brother and the other to his wife, the first being directed to Como Depot, Miss., and the second to Cheyenne. The poor criminal grasped the pencil with firmness and apparently wrote without a tremor, notwithstanding he was closely surrounded by armed men who were soon to be his executioners. He was an illiterate man, and wrote and spelled badly. Fortunately Gen. Cook preserved verbatim copies of the letters, which were as follows:

While he was still writing, some of the men had tied Musgrove’s legs together, and a wagon was procured, which he was told to mount. Placing his hands upon the seat in front, he sprang into the vehicle as nimbly as a cat, and the driver, who was George Hopkins of the present police force, was ordered to proceed. The procession then took its way to the west end of the bridge, reaching which, it passed down the bank of the creek to the dry and sandy bed of the stream, returning to a place under the middle span, whence a hangman’s rope dangled, with the noose already prepared for service. Driving up under this cord, Musgrove was told that he could have an opportunity to make whatever preparation he should see proper for the end which was approaching.

His only reply was: “Go on with your work.”

He was ordered to stand up, and mounted the seat of the wagon, surveying the crowd with his usual sullen and calm face. The rope was being tied about his neck, when Capt. Scudder, then a well known and respected citizen, standing on the bridge above, began to address the crowd upon the illegality of the proceedings. Musgrove’s countenance did not change. He coolly took a piece of paper from one vest pocket, and fumbled in the other vest pocket for some tobacco crumbs, which he took out, rolled in the paper, made a cigarette, turned the ends with care, placed it in his mouth, requested a match from the driver, struck it, lighted his cigarette and smoked it with as much composure as a Mexican ranchero sitting in his plaza on a summer evening, while Capt. Scudder continued his harangue.

This talk was not heeded. The crowd began to jeer, and to cry: “Drive on!” Some one hallooed to Musgrove and inquired: “Where are the rest of your gang?”

“I am sure I don’t know,” came the reply, “unless you are one of them.”

Those were among the man’s last words. His hat was pulled down over his eyes. Musgrove threw his cigarette from his mouth, and feeling the wagon starting, stooped and sprang into the air.

The wagon was moving but slowly from under the man and he came down on the floor of the wagon bed. With an expression of great disappointment and disgust he made another determined leap which should almost, beyond peradventure, land him in the great beyond. The wagon had moved out this time, and Musgrove threw his entire weight upon the rope. His neck was broken by the fall, and death ensued instantly. There were a few shrugs of the shoulder and all was over. The hat which had played the part of a hangman’s cap was removed before the crowd dispersed and the countenance was found to have changed but little. It was still sullen and devoid of any expression of fear. Musgrove had died as he had lived—coldly defiant of the world.

Referring to the matter at the time a local print said: “The people who assembled were good men, if we have any good men in the city. They were quiet and orderly, no shouting, no commotion—waiting to see the law executed upon one who had outraged them. They comprised a large part of the men of the city, and were not a crowd or a mob, but an assemblage of the people.”

CHAPTER XV.

Duggan, it will be remembered, had escaped from the officers at Golden, but he was not allowed to get away. The descriptions which Gen. Cook had sent out had been received at Fort Russell, near Cheyenne, and the agents of the Rocky Mountain Detective Association at that point were on the lookout for him. They did not wait long. He was picked up in company with a deserter, riding a stolen horse near Natural Fort, sixteen miles from Cheyenne, making his way eastward.

Chief Cook hearing of the arrest of Duggan, had himself gone to Cheyenne after the fugitive. He was satisfied from what he knew of the awakened spirit of the people of Denver that if they should get an opportunity they would lynch Duggan, but he was determined that such a fate should not befall the man while in his custody. In fact, it may be mentioned now, that Gen. Cook has ever made it a point to see that no prisoner should be taken from his hands by a mob, and none has ever been. He knew that he would be expected to get in at a certain time, and thought it more than probable that a mob would be organized by that time, for the purpose of taking Duggan from the officers and hanging him. To avert this fate Cook had caused the stage driver to double his speed and to come into Denver twelve hours ahead of time. It was fortunate that this precaution had been taken, for the people had already decided to make another example of Duggan by hanging him. They were terribly excited, and the watchword of the town was “Let no villain escape.” Duggan must follow in the footsteps of Musgrove.

But Cook took the town by surprise in his early arrival with the culprit. They were not organized or ready to make a fight for the man, as they had determined that they would be by the regular stage arrival time. However, the approach of the coach was discovered, as the Carr house on Fifteenth street was passed, by some one who cried out: “Here, boys, come; here’s Cook with Duggan; let’s take him!” There was a rush from the hotel, but Gen. Cook ordered the driver to travel for his life. The horses were whipped into a dead run, which was kept up until the Larimer street prison was gained. Notwithstanding this great haste a mob of 500 people had gathered at the jail when it was reached and the driver had almost to plow through it with his team. The door was reached at last, however, and the prisoner, trembling like a leaf in a breeze, was pushed into the jail and turned over to the county authorities.

But that Duggan’s life was not safe even now, all understood perfectly. It was generally believed that he would be lynched. The impression had gotten out that the jail would be assailed some time during the afternoon, and the prisoner taken therefrom and executed, and in consequence of the rumor, about 4 o’clock a crowd of men, women and children lined the sidewalk along both sides of Larimer street from Fifteenth street, even on to the bridge, which was occupied by children principally. They held their position until nearly or quite dark, when thinking that the expected exhibition had been indefinitely postponed, they retired to their homes. They were mistaken in their surmises, as it appears.

It became known in some way that Duggan would be removed from the Larimer street prison to the city jail on Front street some time during the evening, and the mob had concluded to improve the occasion by taking him from the officers and executing him. About 6 o’clock he was taken in an express wagon for the purpose of the proposed transfer. As the wagon left the west end of the bridge a whistle was sounded and immediately answered from the direction of the calaboose. Soon after the wagon crossed the bridge it was surrounded by ninety or a hundred armed men, who demanded a halt, and the surrender of the prisoner, and he was turned over to them without a struggle. Having him in possession they retraced their steps and turned west, to what was then Cherry street, to a point on that street where there stood two or three cottonwood trees, and under one of which the procession halted. The express wagon, which had been taken possession of, was brought to the front, and placed directly under a limb of the tree. In a moment a rope was thrown over the limb, and in another moment Duggan was standing in the wagon immediately under the fatal noose. Some one then told him if he had any remarks to make, to make them, for his time among the living was short. He commenced by asking them to send for a Catholic priest. “I killed a man in the mountains, but it was in self-defense,” he said: “I did not kill the man in the Black Hills; ’twas another fellow that did it.” To the question about having assisted in garroting Squire Brooks, he first said, “I didn’t do it. I have never hurt anybody or stole anything. I have been a bad man, but I am not guilty of anything deserving of hanging.” He frequently asked that a minister should be sent for. “One called this afternoon, but hadn’t time to stay then, but wanted me to send for him if anything happened.”

Lynching of Duggan in Denver—Fight of Photographers for View of Remains.

Again he was warned that his moments were numbered, and again asked to confess, if he had any confession to make. “I killed the man in the mountains in self-defense and have been tried and acquitted. The man in the Black Hills was killed by another fellow. I never stole anything from anybody. I did assist in robbing Squire Brooks, but I was nearly out of money and had to do it or starve. I only had six or seven dollars, and could not get any any other way. I had to do it or die. I have been a very bad man, but have done nothing to be hanged for. Spare my life; any other punishment. Oh, my poor mother! it will kill her. Don’t let it get to her; send for a Catholic minister.”

His confession or remarks were constantly interrupted by his cries. In fact, in the trying moment he was completely unmanned, crying and sobbing like a baby, and uttering prayers for mercy from Him whose laws he had frequently and repeatedly outraged—a spectacle quite different from that presented by Musgrove. After he had said all that he had to say, the order was heard, “Drive on,” and the wagon which had served as his frail bulwark between life and eternity, moved from under, and the spirit of Sanford S. C. Duggan took its flight to the presence of Him who shall judge us all according to the deeds done in this world. The fall, about eighteen inches, broke his neck. He was a man six feet two or three inches in height and weighed 205 pounds. After the body was cut down it was given in charge of the coroner.

Thus ended the terrible series of tragedies which began with the shooting of Miles Hill at Golden on the night of the 22d of November. That the killings were justified no man who has ever lived on the frontier at such times as those were will deny. In all these affairs Gen. Cook and his officers were more or less concerned, but at all times doing all in their power both to bring offenders against the law to justice, and then to see that the laws were not violated when they were once secured. The lynchings they would gladly have prevented, but it was useless for them to fly in the face of an entire community, which had been outraged and which was aroused, not so much to vengeance as to the necessity of protecting itself against the rough element of the plains. The pictures drawn are not pleasant ones, but they are a part of the history of Denver, and have been given as such without any attempt at exaggeration or undue coloring.

THE EXCHANGE BANK ROBBERY.

CHAPTER XVI.

May 12, 1879, Cole’s circus struck its tent in Denver and prepared to give one of the very creditable performances which generally characterize this “monster aggregation.” The circus had but recently returned to America from Australia and was passing through the country with considerable prestige. Being the means of getting large crowds of people together, it was naturally followed up or accompanied by as depraved a set of sneak thieves and pickpockets as ever traveled in the shadow of any circus. The day of the beginning of the series of performances given in this city was marked by an occurrence which will ever serve to call the date to mind. On that day a robbery was committed in Denver, which will long be remembered for the shrewdness with which it was planned, the expediency with which it was executed, and also for the speedy overtaking of the thieves and the restoration of the stolen property to its owners. The robbery took place at the Exchange Bank, then located on the corner of Fifteenth and Blake streets, about 1 o’clock in the afternoon, while the circus procession was passing and while the streets in front of the building were thronged with people, including those engaged in the parade and those who were looking on as it moved by.

About 1 o’clock the head of the procession began to move up Blake street from the depot. The cashier of the bank, Mr. J. M. Strickler, was at his desk. Mr. A. J. Williams, then the vice-president and now the president of the institution, was in the private office in the rear, and other attachés of the bank were behind the iron railing. There was a temporary lull in the task of receiving deposits, and the bank officers, with the exception of Mr. Strickler, stepped out to the door to see the procession go by. This left no one behind the counter except Mr. Strickler, who was running over some deposits that had been made by patrons of the bank, and talking with a stranger. A few moments later Hon. J. F. Welborn stepped into the bank and asked Mr. Williams to come out to the front, as he desired to speak to him a few moments on business. Mr. Williams joined Judge Welborn at one of the large windows fronting on Blake street, and they stood there chatting until after the procession had gone by. The other bank officers returned to their desks, and Mr. Strickler a few minutes later noticed that a large pile of greenbacks, done up in packages of $500 and upwards, was missing from the table. Thinking they had been placed in one of the cash drawers, he asked his assistant, Mr. Rockwell, who replied that he had not seen the money, and just about that time it began to dawn upon the officers that their short absence from the counter had cost the institution nearly $4,000, about that amount of money having been piled upon the table awaiting deposit.

Gen. Cook was immediately sent for. He found the officers of the bank in a state of considerable excitement, and all of them thoroughly at sea. The robbery was to them a terrible mystery. None of them had been out of the bank at all and Mr. Strickler, the efficient cashier, had remained continuously in his office. They could not have believed that the bank had been robbed if they had not had the evidence which their eyes furnished that the money, which a few minutes before had been there, was missing. That some one should have come into the building and taken out $4,000 in money, even at a time when there was a circus around, seemed to them well nigh incredible. But the fact stared them in the face that the money had disappeared, and they came to Cook to find it. No one could suggest a point that would be of assistance, and he began to put questions, with the hope of getting some clue which would aid him in his apparently almost hopeless search. The clue was at last obtained. Mr. Strickler remembered that while the other officials and the employés of the bank had been out looking at the circus, he had been engaged in conversation with an individual who had brought in a $100 note to get it changed, and the note being of doubtful appearance, he had seemed bent upon drawing the cashier into an animated discussion, which was carried on on the part of the stranger in an unnecessarily loud and vehement tone of voice.

“That is the man we want to get,” said Cook. “He was the steerer for the thieves.”

The detective at once jumped at the conclusion that ordinarily a man would not go into a bank to get change while a circus was passing. The man’s manner, when further described, confirmed the opinion previously formed, and he obtained a description of the fellow as speedily as possible, upon which thread he went to work to run the case down and restore the bank its stolen funds.

Before starting out, however, he made a survey of the building, for the purpose of completing his theory of the modus operandi of the robbery and how many had been engaged in it.

The portion of the building occupied as a bank was composed of two rooms—a large one, in which the active employés were engaged, and a smaller one, used as his private office by Mr. Williams. The two communicated through a partition door, and both had doors opening upon Fifteenth street.

The rear door on Blake street, leading into the private office, was usually locked with a spring lock, working from the inside. It could not be opened without a key, except from the inside. From the private office there was a door leading into the inner portion of the bank, enclosed with counters and railings, and another door leading straight to the front entrance. Gen. Cook concluded that the plan must have been arranged beforehand, and the theft committed without any delay. The rear door being open, a person could gain access to the vaults and cash drawers, and by stooping low would not be visible to any one on the outside of the counter. It was therefore presumed that while one of the thieves guarded the rear door for his pal and another talked with the cashier, the third crawled deftly on his hands and knees and reached up for the money, sweeping the counter pretty clear, and taking all the currency that was in sight. The time consumed by the procession in passing was sufficiently long to enable the thieves to do this without showing their hurry or doing the work bunglingly.

This work being accomplished, the thief who had taken the money wrapped it in a red handkerchief and crept to the back door. Seeing his friend clear, the man with the $100 bill took his departure and all three joined on the outside, passing hurriedly down Fifteenth street and past the Elephant corral, as had been noticed by spectators, who did not, of course, know what had transpired in the bank. At that corral, as was afterwards learned, a portion of the money was left.

Having a description of one of the men who had been in the robbery, and being in possession of the course that the robbers had taken, Cook went to work himself and sent others of his officers out in the search. They had some hope of finding the thieves through other operations, and some of the detectives attended the circus for the purpose of getting a clue of this kind. The fact that a number of smaller robberies were committed during the forenoon, and, in every instance, in the crowds where the procession passed, strengthened the theory that there was a well-organized gang at work, and that they were doing their work under cover of Cole’s circus procession. But a more hopeless task could hardly be imagined. Here was a bank robbed in broad daylight, with the officers and clerks moving about the room and keeping a watchful eye on the money deposits. No one who could recognize them had seen the thieves enter or depart, and no one connected with the bank could give the officers any but the slightest clue as to the character or appearance of the bold outlaws. But Cook is not a man prone to give up the track of a thief because the trail happens to be cold. According to methods and intuitions of his own he went to work. He relied mainly upon his great knowledge of the thieves of the country, believing that if the robbers had been well known and experienced crooks, as their work showed they were, he would know them or some of them when he should come upon them.

He accordingly set out to look for his men. Two hours afterwards brought the welcome information to the bank that two out of the three robbers had been captured and part of the money recovered. In his search Gen. Cook visited the American house, and while sauntering about there, Cook’s eyes fell upon a form that was not unknown to the eyes of the detective. A brief retrospection caused him to remember the man as one Joe Parrish, a noted thief, whom he had seen ten years before in Chicago. He was observed to be accompanied by another man, whose face could not be seen at first. The two moved about suspiciously, and Cook decided upon a closer investigation of the pair. At last he obtained a full view of Parrish’s partner, and found him to be not only a first-water Italian crook from St. Louis, but also that his description answered that given by Mr. Strickler of the man who had called to get a bill changed. These were the men wanted. Of this fact Gen. Cook was quite certain. He consequently left them and went in search of his deputy, Mr. Smith. That gentleman joining his chief, they returned to the American house “for business.”

Spotting their men, who did not seem to be laboring under any uneasiness of apprehension, they decided upon immediate arrest, and came down upon them like a thousand of brick. Cook walked deliberately up to Parrish, a genteely dressed young man, with a Jewish cast of countenance, and announced that he was under the pleasant necessity of placing him under arrest. Parrish—who subsequently gave his name as F. Wiggins—made no resistance; did not even raise the slightest objection or remonstrance. Meanwhile, Smith had approached the other party and placed him under arrest. This man—who gave his name as I. H. Russell, though it was an alias—was also neatly dressed and of gentlemanly appearance. He exclaimed, as Smith laid his hands upon him: “Well, well!” Only this and nothing more.

As the officers were conveying their prisoners to a coach, however, preparatory to taking them to jail, Russell turned to Gen. Cook and said: “Will you be kind enough to tell me what this is all about?”

He also informed Cook that he was a lawyer in good standing, afterwards stating that he had come to Denver as a commercial traveler, and was selling jewelry. When Cook asked him where his samples were, he replied that he was dealing in cheap jewelry and did not carry any samples.

Wiggins never spoke a word from the time of his arrest till he was behind the bars.

While Smith was looking after the prisoners in the office of the American house, Cook went up to the room—No. 73—occupied by Wiggins and Russell and instituted a vigorous search. The prisoners were also carefully searched, and $800 in all was found upon the two, the bulk of which was identified as money stolen from the bank. A portion of the money found upon the prisoners was $100 in five and ten-dollar bills, which was hidden in the front part of one of Mr. Wiggins’ shoes.

Both the prisoners stoutly protested their innocence of the crime charged against them, but the proof of their guilt was as straight as could possibly have been desired, and no one entertained any doubt that the right men had been taken. The job was one of the neatest ever performed by a detective in any place, and Gen. Cook and his co-worker were praised on every hand. Starting out at 2 o’clock without a single clue, they had in two hours found and jailed the robbers and secured a fine roll of money, if not all or the bulk of it. “With such detectives as these in Denver,” said one, “thieves will certainly conclude that this is not the place for them.” “They are better than all the iron safes in the country,” said another. Indeed, the detectives were congratulated upon every hand.

But one of the thieves was still missing, with something like $3,000 in his possession. He proved to be more evasive than the other two had been, and succeeded in getting out of town. The officers were at first nonplussed and unable to obtain the slightest clue as to his identity. They could not turn a wheel. At last they succeeded in getting the man’s name, which was Sam Straddler, otherwise known as “Dayton Sammy,” from his pals, and learned that he was in Cincinnati. Thitherward Cook dispatched Smith, who arrived just in time to learn that his bird had flown. He had contrived to get away from the police authorities there and could not be found.

Parrish and Russell remained in jail for several months, and at last compromised the matter, so that the bank was out nothing in the end.

It is a fact worth noting that neither Mr. Russell, Mr. Parrish or Mr. Straddler has been seen in the city since they were turned out of jail. They don’t get along well with Dave Cook, and prefer to be widely separated from him.

THE HAYWARD MURDER.

CHAPTER XVII.

In all the criminal history of Colorado—in all the register of the achievements of the Rocky Mountain Detective Association—the ensanguined pages show no more causeless, unprovoked murder than that of R. B. Hayward, in September, 1879. The difficulties met and overcome by the detectives, and the prompt and tragic end of the criminals, lend an additional interest to the case and make it one of the most famous in the far West, as it is most assuredly one of the most noted in Colorado in some of its features. The absence of any material temptation; the temporary escape of the murderers; the accidental finding of the body of the victim; the patient search of the officers; the final arrest of the men hundreds of miles away; the identification and confession; and then the lynching, so rich in dramatic detail, form a narrative reading more like a sensational romance than the cold facts of an actual reality.

On the 10th of August, 1879, Gen. D. J. Cook, superintendent of the Rocky Mountain Detective Association, received a dispatch from Sheriff Besey, of Grand county, Colo., telling him to keep a sharp lookout for a man looking very much like a Chinaman, and evidently with some Indian blood in his veins, who was wanted for the robbery of the house of Mr. Frank Byers, in Middle park. The robber had secured a watch and a few trinkets of more or less value, and then, helping himself to a mule, had departed for other fields. This robbery had occurred on the 8th, and the intricate machinery of the detectives was put in motion as soon as notified, for Mr. Byers was a well-known citizen, and presently information began to take shape and flow through the properly appointed channels to headquarters.

It was found that on the 12th, four days after the Byers robbery, and two after the detectives had been notified, the robber had appeared in Georgetown and called upon Dr. William A. Burr, giving his name as Joseph F. Seminole, and stating that he came from Emerson Kinney, of Hot Sulphur Springs, who desired the medical gentleman’s immediate presence, as Mrs. Kinney was dangerously ill.

“When you get about six miles out of town on the road to Empire,” said the cool and crafty scoundrel, “stop at the ranch of Mr. Lindstrom and get my mule, which I left there. It will be much better for you to use my animal than to ride your own on such a long and hard trip. When you reach the Summit house, in Berthoud pass, just present this order and the proprietor will furnish you with a horse and buggy.”

The order that was given read as follows:

When the doctor reached Lindstrom’s place he exchanged his horse for the mule left by Seminole, and continued on his way. At the Summit house the foregoing order was presented, but the proprietor declined to furnish a conveyance on the strength of it, saying that he did not know Seminole at all, but offering a horse and buggy if the doctor would be personally responsible for it, a proposition which the latter accepted. At last Mr. Kinney’s ranch was reached, and to his utter stupefaction the doctor found that his expected patient was not only never in better health, but had not the slightest idea of being sick. Breathing vengeance deep and dire, the good-hearted but exasperated doctor started on his return, and when Lindstrom’s was again reached, he was greeted with the intelligence that Seminole had been there and secured his horse, and to this day that animal has never been seen, or even heard of.

Thus far the detectives got, and then were balked. To them it was but a case of robbery—they never dreamed how soon it was to develop into a ghastly murder. Somewhat piqued at their non-success, although the crime was comparatively but a paltry one, they continued their efforts, and after a while traced Seminole to Leadville, where, on the 7th of September, he, in company with a man known as Tom Johnson, whose correct name proved to be Samuel Woodruff, hired two horses for the avowed purpose of merely taking a little ride. While skirmishing around, they noticed a Mr. Aldrich draw two hundred dollars from a bank, and learned that he was going immediately to Georgetown. They followed behind him, and when six miles from his destination rode up to him, drew their pistols and called upon him to halt and deliver. Aldrich, however, was not of that kind, and jerked his own weapon and turned loose, though, unfortunately, not hitting either of the two scoundrels, who turned and fled precipitately. When he arrived in Georgetown, he promptly notified the sheriff of Clear Creek county, and that official immediately struck the trail and followed it up without the loss of a moment. So rapidly did he gain on the fleeing desperadoes that they dismounted from their horses, turned the animals loose and made their escape in the brush. The animals were returned to their owners and the sheriff abandoned the pursuit of the men.

The rascals continued on foot until September 10. They reached the place of Mr. Anderson, and hired him to drive them to Denver. They stated that they had no money, but an uncle of theirs kept a livery stable in Denver, and he would pay for all the trouble. While on the trip Anderson noticed that his passengers did have money, and remarked that they had better pay the toll charges at least, as he was not willing to spend cash right out of his pocket and trust them besides. But they refused, and then Anderson said he would go no further; but upon being confronted by two cocked pistols, he changed his mind and drove on. About a mile further two wagons were seen coming from the direction of Denver and going in that of Georgetown, and when almost within hailing distance Messrs. Seminole and Johnson jumped out and took to the brush, evidently fearing that Anderson would call for assistance. Relieved of his undesirable passengers, Anderson joined the other wagons, and in their company returned to Georgetown.

That same afternoon, about half-past four, this pair of precious scoundrels came to the house of R. B. Hayward, near Big Hill, Jefferson county, and engaged him to gear up and take them to a cattle camp they said they were hunting, supposed to be near A. Rooney’s place, near Green mountain, just outside of Hogback. They passed the Mt. Vernon toll-gate at about half-past six that evening, and from here the fate of Mr. Hayward was an unfathomed mystery until his body was found.

Of course Mr. Hayward’s people became uneasy on account of his failure to return the evening after he left, and when he did not come the next day Mrs. Hayward took steps to inform the Jefferson county authorities of the circumstances under which her husband had gone away from home, and of his prolonged absence. They made thorough search, but failed to discover anything, either concerning Mr. Hayward’s whereabouts, as to what disposition had been made of his team, or where the men were who had gone away with him.

On the 16th of September, C. P. Hoyt, of the Rocky Mountain Detective Association, reported the facts of the mysterious absence of Mr. Hayward to Superintendent Cook, and gave the description of the two men last seen with the missing man.

In the meantime, on September 11, the same two men (though the fact of the murder was not then known) went to Brown & Marr, of the ’bus barn, on Arapahoe street, Denver, and hired two bay mares and a top-rig buggy, paying four dollars in advance. This was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon, and they said they merely wanted to take a little spin around town and would return at a certain specified hour. As this time had long been passed, Brown & Marr placed the matter in the hands of the detective association late in the evening of the 11th, and they telegraphed all over a description of the missing rig. About 11 o’clock on the morning of the 12th, Superintendent Cook received a message from the town of Loveland, in Larimer county, stating that two men had abandoned a buggy answering the description of the missing one, and had mounted the mares and ridden off. An officer was immediately dispatched to the scene, and sure enough it was the identical vehicle taken from the Denver stable.

Murder of R. B. Hayward on the Denver and Golden road in 1879.

As it was now ascertained that the thieves had gone north, Superintendent Cook notified Assistant Superintendent Carr, at Cheyenne, to be on the lookout, and on the 14th of the month Gen. Cook received information from him that two men, answering the description of the two who had hired the horses and buggy, had remained all night in the vicinity of a ranch near La Porte, Larimer county. The men represented to the owner of the ranch that they belonged to a cattle outfit, and that the cattle were down in the bottoms near at hand, while the wagon containing the camping outfit was far to the rear. They were obliged to be with their cattle, they said, and would like to borrow a couple of buffalo robes until morning. The kind-hearted ranchman acceded to their request, and never again beheld his robes, nor in the morning could he find any signs or traces of cattle.

On the 22d of the same month, a gentleman named Leech, while riding from Laramie City to Cheyenne, on horseback, met two men mounted on bay mares, with folded buffalo robes as saddles, at the crossing of the Union Pacific railroad, four miles east of Sherman station. They stopped him, asked him what time it was, and where he lived, and as they had a hard look about them, he assured them he lived about two hundred yards from there, on the other side of a little butte, though the truth of the matter was, there wasn’t a house within four miles of the spot. When Mr. Leech reached Cheyenne he met Detective Carr, and mentioned this meeting near Sherman, and when the officer gave a description of the missing horses and thieves, Mr. Leech recognized it immediately.

Carr then went diligently to work, and after a while ascertained that on the 23d two men, riding bay mares, with no saddles, but buffalo robes in lieu thereof, had come to the ranch of Nick Janise, near Sidney bridge, on the North Platte. This information was forwarded to Gen. Cook, and Mr. Leech, having come down to Denver on business, was interviewed at his hotel by Detective Joe Arnold, as a representative of Chief Cook, who had, as did also Gen. Cook, shrewd suspicions that the murderers of Hayward and the horse thieves were the same parties. He showed Mr. Leech a description of the men who had engaged Mr. Hayward to drive them to the cattle ranch, and that gentleman immediately recognized them, being especially sure because of the white bone-handled knife and the revolvers carried by the suspicious-looking strangers.

The result of this interview was that Detective W. W. Ayres, of the Rocky Mountain Association, was sent in pursuit of the men, starting from Denver on the 4th of October. By this time the Hayward murder had become state talk, as the mystery was still unsolved and as the cold-blooded nature of the affair had also become generally known. Currency was also given to the fact that he had left an intelligent wife and two bright daughters just budding into womanhood, to watch and wait for the return of the husband and father who would never return.

There remained hardly any trace of doubt that Mr. Hayward had been murdered by the two men with whom he had started out. This suspicion was greatly strengthened by learning the late history of the two men who had gone with him, which history has been given in the beginning of this story.

Mrs. Hayward was for a while almost frantic with grief at the loss of her husband, but she soon rallied with the genuine pluck which is the characteristic of most western women, and determined to do what she might to avenge his death. She offered a reward of $200 for the capture of the murderers. This offer was followed by one from Jefferson county, agreeing to pay $500 for their capture, and soon Gov. Pitkin proclaimed a reward on the part of the state of $1,000 for their apprehension, making $1,700 the aggregate sum offered for the fugitives.

As related above, Gen. Cook had already formed the theory, though he kept it to himself, that the two men who had stolen the horses were the Hayward murderers, and he decided to have them followed to “the jumping-off place” if necessary, or get them. He had already formed a pretty definite theory as to the destination of the two men. He had learned, among numerous other facts which he had gathered together, that Seminole was a half-breed Sioux Indian, and that he belonged at Pine Ridge agency, Dakota, where he had a family, going there by the name of J. S. Leuischammesse. As has already been seen, the men who stole the horses had turned their attention in that direction, and thitherward Cook directed Mr. Ayres, never informing him, however, that he had any suspicion that they were guilty of any crime greater than that of horse stealing, wisely concluding that if Seminole’s fellow Indians knew that he was charged with murder and likely to be hanged, they would not permit the detective to bring him away, and believing that the best way of keeping this fact from them was to impart it to no one. On the other hand, they would perhaps even assist the detective in getting him for horse stealing.

Mr. Ayres had a long and arduous journey before him, as he could look forward to at least a thousand miles of stage-coaching and horseback riding in the north, with winter coming on, and with many hardships to endure in a land of savages. But he started out undaunted by the prospect, and the result shows how faithfully he worked and how successfully he wrought.

While he is making his way across the almost pathless plains of Wyoming and Dakota, it is necessary to stop for a moment to relate to the reader the fact of the discovery of the body of Mr. Hayward. It was found on the 7th of October, three days after Ayres had left the city, and almost a month after Mr. Hayward had left home, in an old culvert on the Golden road, five miles from Denver. The body bore no testimony as to the manner or cause of death. It was greatly decayed, but still was not beyond identification, and the coroner’s jury brought in the verdict that death was caused in all probability by dislocation of the neck at the hand of a party or parties unknown. No wound or mark of violence could be found anywhere on the body, and the theories were that either the murderers had broken his neck with some dull instrument or else had poisoned him.

CHAPTER XVIII.