CHAPTER LX.

THE STORY OF CLODFELTER AND JOHNSON, WHO SHOT OFFICER WILCOX IN 1875—JOHNSON CAUGHT MISUSING THE MAILS FOR FRAUD—HE TRIES TO ESCAPE FROM THE OFFICER, AND IN DOING SO, SHOOTS WILCOX, WHO GRAPPLES WITH JOHNSON AND IS SHOT IN THE BACK BY CLODFELTER, AND IS SUPPOSED TO BE FATALLY WOUNDED—ESCAPE OF THE WOULD-BE MURDERERS.

It was on Saturday, during the last days of February, 1875, that the then deputy United States marshal and Deputy Sheriff Charley Wilcox, of Arapahoe county, was shot down, and it was then believed fatally injured, at Island station, while making an effort to arrest one John W. Johnson on the charge of an improper use of the mails. The affair was, take it all in all, one of the most thrilling of the kind which ever happened in this vicinity, and created intense excitement at the time—a time, by the way, when excitements were rare in Denver.

The facts leading up to the tragedy are these: For a long time a “confidence” game had been carried on by principals, who had their headquarters in or about Denver. As early as August, 1874, the fact became known to the postoffice department that the mails were being freely used by these swindlers and knaves to accomplish their purposes, and at once steps were taken to bring them to justice. Several months afterwards sufficient evidence was obtained to satisfy any ordinary mind of the guilt of a certain party, but not to render conviction by a jury a certainty. Consequently a plan was arranged to capture the fellow with sufficient evidence on his person to admit of no “reasonable doubt.”

The game practiced by the villains was to send circulars to different parties living in this and adjoining territories, and even in the states, agreeing to furnish a good watch on the receipt of three dollars, or to deliver the same C. O. D. by express. Stones, sawdust and other worthless articles were wrapped up very carefully in paper and sent to those who were so foolish as thus to be caught. The extent of the swindling thus carried on is not known, as hundreds would feel too “cheap” to acknowledge that they had been duped in such a ridiculous manner.

This man Johnson, who made his headquarters at Island Station, was spotted as the individual who was responsible for the swindle, through the exertions of the Denver postoffice officials and the Rocky Mountain detectives, and Deputy Sheriff Wilcox was sent to arrest him, being first deputized as a United States marshal, as the offense was one against the national government.

Wilcox reached the station before the arrival of the mail on that day, and waited the arrival of Johnson in the postoffice. When he came in he was accompanied by another man, by the name of Ike Clodfelter.

As soon as Johnson had received a registered letter, sent to trap him, he was arrested by the deputy sheriff. Upon being commanded to hand over whatever weapons he might have about him, Johnson promptly turned over a pistol to the officer, who naturally supposed the man to be disarmed after this, and permitted him, in accordance with a request which he had made, to go to the door to give some directions about having his horse cared for.

The man was no sooner in the door than he sprang out like a pursued deer, and was off with the wind. He drew another revolver from his bootleg as he passed out, and was prepared to defend himself. The officer gave chase, attempting to draw his revolver. As he did this, the weapon fell, but rather than lose time, he pushed on, not having yet discovered that Johnson had drawn a second time, and believing that it would be one unarmed man against another when he should come up with his man, as he thought he would be able to do. Hence he concluded to waste no time, but to push forward in pursuit of his game. The result shows that he counted without his host, and that he did not half appreciate the cunning and the desperation of the man, or men, with whom he was dealing.

Johnson struck out at full speed, and was followed by the officer at a dead run. Finding that he was gained upon constantly, Johnson cocked his pistol as he ran, and, without stopping, threw it back over his shoulder with the barrel pointing towards the pursuer, sending a streak of smoke and fire and lead after him as he flew over the ground. The ball went sizzing by Wilcox’s head, but left him unharmed.

Wilcox was, of course, slightly astonished to find the man whom he considered unarmed firing at him, but did not stop at discovering this odds against himself. On the contrary, his pluck was fully aroused, and he determined to have his man whatever the cost, now that he had been fired upon by him, and he pushed on with more speed than before. Of course, if Johnson had known that Wilcox had dropped his pistol, he could have turned upon and defied him, and the officer shrewdly counted upon his man’s ignorance of this fact to aid and save him. The fellow continued to fire over his shoulder, but as he took no aim—did not even see the object which he wished to strike—there was no danger except from accident. Five shots were discharged in rapid succession, the balls passing uncomfortably near, but none of them striking the officer.

Not dreaming that Johnson carried anything more than a five-shooter, the officer now pushed forward with still greater speed, supposing that he had his man safe. Here he learned a second lesson as to the character of the man with whom he had to deal. The fellow had reserved one load. The deputy was allowed to approach within a foot or two, when the gun was suddenly thrust back so close as to allow the muzzle to almost touch Wilcox, when to that gentleman’s great amazement, “bang” it went again.

He felt the hard lead crashing through the flesh of his thigh and saw the blood spurt out, but he grappled with his man, determined to get him now or die in the effort. Wilcox then feeling that he was safe, collared Johnson, who struck him a violent blow over the head with the empty revolver, which indented but did not fracture the skull. The officer began to push his man as best he could towards the house, calling out for Postmaster Fowler to come and assist him. Fowler started out, but Clodfelter, who was standing by, drew a revolver, and told him to “git” or he would shoot him. Fowler preferred the former alternative, and left Wilcox to his fate. By this time Johnson had begun to call on his confederate to shoot Wilcox, which Clodfelter refused to do, especially as Wilcox told him he did not believe he was coward enough to shoot an unarmed officer while trying to do his duty. Wilcox had yet to learn that this base villain was more than simply a friend of Johnson’s.

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Shooting of Officer Wilcox by Clodfelter and Johnson, near Denver, in 1875.

Upon being repeatedly urged to shoot, Clodfelter finally gave his revolver to Johnson, with the remark:

“Shoot the s—n of a b—h yourself.”

The instant Wilcox saw the weapon in Johnson’s hand he so wrenched the fellow’s arm that the weapon was useless, and Johnson immediately called on his confederate to take it back and shoot. This Clodfelter refused to do, but as the bitter, angry words:

“G—d d—n you! don’t you remember what I did for you once?”

Were uttered, Clodfelter reached for the pistol, and Wilcox for the first time realized that he had to deal with a confederate as well as the principal. Feeling that he would probably be shot, the thought occurred to Wilcox to at least so “mark” Johnson that he could not escape. He was engaged in a tremendous struggle to throw Johnson, intending to stamp his head with his boot, when Clodfelter stepped about four feet off and fired. Instantly Wilcox dropped, and the two villains mounted their horses, which Clodfelter had brought close by, and made off.

Wilcox was discovered to have been shot by Johnson in the thigh, the ball entering the groin and passing out half way down to the knee, while Clodfelter had planted his lead in the poor fellow’s back.

Sheriff Willoughby, Postmaster Cheaver, Assistant Postmaster Maj. Lander, Dr. Charles Denison, and Gen. Cook, of the Rocky Mountain Detective Agency, were summoned to the scene as quickly as possible. They found Wilcox in a precarious condition and likely to die at any moment. They decided to take him to Denver where he could have good care and the best of medical aid.