“‘They paused at one berth and seemed very much incensed that the woman it contained was so slow in handing over her valuables. They swore and were very impatient. Suddenly, a man in the next berth thrust his head out between the curtains. He had a revolver in his hand and fired, but instantly another shot rang out from the robber in the rear, and the man sank back in his berth.
“‘After the shooting, the robbers appeared more nervous and hurried. When they had gone through the car, they took the gunny-sack and emptied the contents into their pockets. One of the robbers pulled the bell-rope, but evidently not hard enough, for the train continued on its way. Swearing, they compelled the porter and two conductors to stand out on the platform with them, covered by their revolvers, until the train slowed down at Paxton, when they swung off to the ground and disappeared into these vast prairie lands, which are so sparsely settled one can drive for a day without seeing a person.
“‘As soon as the train stopped, the passengers hurried to the berth of the man who had been shot, but he had been instantly killed.
“‘The Sheriff was notified, and a posse started in pursuit, but the robbers had vanished.’” Owen put down the paper, and we sat up far into the night talking it over.
Subsequently our ranch, our horses, and Owen’s opinions were freely quoted in the press. Bob and Tom were positively identified by the three trainmen as the hold-ups. They were retained a week in jail, and then suddenly released on “insufficient proof.”
Owen did not believe in point of time they could have held up the train, for he had talked to Bob that Saturday night until after nine o’clock, but everybody, including Owen, held them capable of it. The point was simply that they had not happened to be there.
Later Bob and Tom returned to the ranch, incensed at their arrest and detention, but no one ever learned where they were that memorable Saturday night.
Moreover, the men who held up the train were never found, and again one of those strange tragedies of the West ended in vagueness.
I was struck by the repetition of that phenomenon “A crime, a tragedy.” At first indignation and an earnest attempt to find the offenders and bring them to justice, then delay, and the whole affair shoved into the background by something newer.