CHAPTER L.
A LONG AND PERILOUS RIDE—THE MOTLEY MOB COMES UP—TWO MEN, BY EXERCISING A LITTLE COOLNESS AND A GOOD DEAL OF COURAGE, STAND OFF FORTY—AGAIN ATTACKED AT THE DEPOT—WADING THROUGH AN ARMY OF DESPERATE CHARACTERS—OFF FOR COUNCIL BLUFFS—THE JAIL ASSAULTED—FORTY THOUSAND DOLLARS OFFERED FOR KELLY’S RELEASE—DESPERATE EFFORT TO ESCAPE IN OMAHA—AFTER MANY TRIALS DETECTIVE BOSWELL LANDS HIS PRISONER IN LARAMIE CITY.
The arrest of Kelly had been made early in the morning, and it was not late in the day when Red Oak was reached. A brief stop was made at this point to consult a physician as to Kelly’s wound. The man of medicine said the prisoner had been dangerously shot; that the ball had passed through the abdomen, and the chances were two to one that he would die, but that his prospects would be in no wise injured by taking him on to Pacific Junction. Much against Kelly’s will the officers mounted the vehicle, and with a “go long there,” were off on the long and dangerous journey.
On they went, as fast as the rough roads and the speed of their animals would permit, feeling that even step they went was putting danger all the further from them. They began to feel somewhat secure from attack when they passed the half-way point on their road. But their exultation was only short-lived. They were jogging along over a corduroy road through heavily shaded bottom land, when, glancing back, they beheld a small and motley army advancing upon them. Kelly’s brother had gotten about twenty men together, armed them with revolvers, shot guns, shovels, pitchforks, and mounted them on mules and “old plugs” of horses, and had come in pursuit. They were galloping along over the rough road strung out for a hundred yards, making quite a formidable appearance, indeed.
“Well, I guess we’ll just give them the best we’ve got in the shop, anyhow,” says Boswell. “Let them come if they want to,” in a general way, and to his companion officer, “Put your pistol to Kelly’s ear and blow the top of his head off if he makes a move, or if his friends do,” at the same time nudging the officer as a warning not to take him literally at his word. The command was intended for Kelly’s ear and not for the officer’s. We shall soon see whether the stratagem had its desired effect.
In the meantime the horses had been stopped, and Boswell remarking, “I guess we’ll face the music right here,” had jumped out of the wagon, leaving his companion to take care of Kelly while he should face the mob. They rushed on even after Boswell had stepped out. When the infuriated crowd had come within hailing distance, Boswell raised his pistol and ordered them to stop. But they did not stop. He drew a bead on the leader and shouted to him:
“Move another step and I’ll shoot you dead as you come.”
This had its effect and the mob drew the reins on their animals and came to an unwilling standstill.
“Now, what do you want?” he asked.
“We want Kelly, and mean to take him.”
“Oh, you do, eh? Well, if that is all, come on and get him.”
It was now Kelly’s time to speak. The muzzle of a cocked revolver was jammed into his ear and a firm officer’s forefinger almost touched a trigger so that a move of it would have sent him into eternity in the twinkling of an eye. He fancied that he could almost hear the crush of the hammer, and he trembled like an aspen bough as he shouted to his rash friends:
“For God’s sake, boys, don’t make a move; they will kill me.”
This had its effect, and a brief parley resulted in a promise from the crowd to not further molest the officers. They were told that if they should again attempt to come upon them, Kelly would be killed outright and that the officers were prepared to kill at least twelve of their assailants before being taken.
The mob were true to their word, and did not put in an appearance during the remainder of the entire drive, which was made as hurriedly as possible. The captive and captors reached the junction a few minutes before train time, as Mr. Boswell had calculated to do. They found, somewhat to their surprise, that Kelly’s brother and his party had taken another road and had gotten in ahead of them and had rallied a mob of two hundred to their support, who swore vehemently that Kelly should never be taken on the cars. Boswell managed to rush his party into the hotel unobserved, but they had no sooner settled there than the mob began to beat at the door and demand admission. This was denied them, and they were stood off until the train came up. It proved to be a freight, but Boswell determined to take it.
Now was the trying time. The mob had congregated on the platform between the hotel and the railroad track and was so dense that it looked impossible to force a way through it. But Boswell was equal to this occasion as he had been to others. “Now is our time, boys,” he said, and they prepared to move out. He had procured the assistance of another well armed and faithful man, and he placed him and the Missouri sheriff on either side of the arrested murderers, while he cocked two revolvers, holding one in each hand. The hotel door was opened as soon as the train stopped, and the party walked outside. They were met with a wild yell, and then became apparent a disposition to move upon the little party. Again the pistols were leveled and the crowd was told to divide so as to make a passage. Slowly it rolled into two walls as the Red sea did of old. The two assistants were placed in front while Boswell brought up the rear with his pistols in hand, and they passed through the jeering and swearing crowd. As they were nearing the cars a piece of cordwood struck Boswell in the rear, but did not hurt him badly. Quick as thought he turned his back to the cars and fired both of his pistols over the heads of the crowd. Such a scattering was never seen. The platform covered a marshy piece of ground and all around was a shallow pond. Two-thirds of the gallant two hundred were sent sprawling into the water—presenting a scene which was quite sufficient to excite Mr. Boswell’s idea of the ridiculous, notwithstanding his serious surroundings. Adjoining this pond was a cornfield, and through this the frightened creatures flew like Texas steers.
There were, however, still a few left, and they seemed more disposed to fight than ever. Kelly’s brother jumped upon a fence and was preparing to shoot when Boswell leveled upon him and brought him down with a bullet through the thigh, producing a yell which acted as a potent quietus upon the crowd, and the battle was over.
Some of the roughs made an effort to board the train, on which Kelly had been placed during the melee, but were knocked off, and soon the party was on the way to the Bluffs. The journey was without incident.
But all was not yet over. Kelly was so badly wounded that it was found impossible to proceed further, without absolutely endangering his life. He was placed in the Council Bluffs jail and a physician sent for. Strange as it may seem, it was discovered that, although the ball had passed entirely through him, he had hardly bled enough to color his shirt, and the doctor stated that with ordinary care and rest he would soon recover. He was kept in the jail there two weeks while the physician was attending him, recovering rapidly all the time. Boswell remained close with his prisoner and slept with him every night. Not aware of this fact, Kelly’s friends came one night in force and began an effort to break the doors of the jail down. But being met by this man of eternal vigilance and an ugly Winchester rifle, they retired in some disorder, heaping imprecations upon his head.
The next assault was upon Boswell’s cupidity, and consisted in an offer of $40,000 in clean cash to him if he would allow Kelly to escape. But this was met as all other efforts of a different character had been, and failed of its object, as it was refused, though Boswell allowed it to be understood that probably it would be accepted, thinking that he might the more easily get his prisoner away when he should desire to remove him.
It was while they were resting in this doubt as to Boswell’s intention that he stealthily took his now well-recovered captive out of the Council Bluffs jail and crossed the Missouri river to Omaha on his way to Wyoming. The ruse was, soon after the departure, discovered, and while the officer was at Omaha another effort was made to recapture him. This was a well-laid plan and came very near succeeding. Boswell had stopped at the Cozzens house for the night, and Kelly had gone to bed. A young man named Day had been employed as a guard while the detective was out making arrangements for transportation. Kelly suddenly claimed to have a call of nature, which demanded that he should retire to the water closet in the back yard. Day stooped down to get the prisoner’s boots for him, and as he did so, Kelly snatched the guard’s revolver and shot him through the breast, though, fortunately, not dangerously. A struggle ensued between the two men and soon a large crowd of the guests of the house came to the rescue of the guard and assisted him to disarm the now thoroughly enraged criminal.
Some one rushed over to the railroad office and informed Boswell of what was transpiring. Hurrying back to the hotel he concluded to go in the back way to avoid interference. Then another feature of the plot was revealed. A carriage stood backed up against the rear fence and a mob of forty friends of Kelly’s were demanding admission to the hotel, while the proprietor of the house, a courageous old man named Ramsey, stood at the head of the stairs, up which they sought to go, brandishing an old saber and defying them. Boswell’s appearance was sufficient to disperse the crowd, as his character had already become known to Kelly and his friends. Kelly was after this episode placed in jail.
Boswell feared still another effort at rescue, and took precautions to frustrate it. He employed a railroad man named Thomas McCarthy to join the mob and keep him informed of their movements. Through this means he discovered that a plot had been set on foot to wreck the train six miles out. Obstructions were placed on the track at a point where the train would have been thrown from the track before it could have been stopped. But Mr. Mead, then superintendent of the Union Pacific, sent out a flat car carrying forty armed men, who removed the obstructions and allowed the passenger train carrying Boswell and his man to pass without further molestation.
The seven or eight hundred miles across the plains to Laramie City were traversed without incident, and the desperado was lodged at last in jail—another feather in Mr. Boswell’s cap and that of the Rocky Mountain detective force.
Let it be said to the shame of the courts that after all this effort to capture Kelly, and after his terrible crime had become known throughout the West, he was allowed to go scot free, after remaining in jail a few months. He succeeded in buying off the witnesses against him and at last got off, though at a cost of not less than $37,000.
Of course, such a man would be expected to die with his boots on, and he did, having been shot dead some years ago in Texas while in a row there.
DEALING WITH STRIKERS.