A DESPERATE RAILROAD CONTRACTOR.
CHAPTER XLIX.
A TRAGEDY ON THE UNION PACIFIC IN ’68—JOHN KELLY’S COLD-BLOODED MURDER OF CHARLEY MAXWELL, A COLORADO BOY—SHOT DOWN FOR ASKING FOR DUES AND THE MURDER FINISHED AS THE BOY PRAYS FOR HIS LIFE—KELLY’S ESCAPE—HE IS HUNTED DOWN BY DETECTIVE BOSWELL AND FOUND IN MISSOURI, WHERE HE IS CAPTURED WITH THE AID OF A BULLET—PURSUIT BY A MOB OF RAILROAD LABORERS.
Charley Maxwell, a bright-faced and well-dispositioned lad, was shot down in a cold and cruel way by one John Kelly, a contractor on the Union Pacific railroad, near Fort Steele, Wyo., in 1868, while the railroad was building through that country. He was a Colorado boy, and his parents had permitted him to go away from home to secure work, and he had taken a place under Kelly as night herder of the contractor’s stock. The boy owned an excellent pony, which was almost his entire property, and he was naturally very fond of it. One day the Cheyenne Indians came along and stole it, and left him quite in despair at his loss. His grief was so intense as to have an effect upon the railroad workmen, and their sympathy grew to be so strong that they determined to buy him another pony, and raised sufficient money for this purpose by clubbing together. The animal being procured, young Maxwell decided one day to return to Colorado, and demanded a settlement with his employer. Kelly was a rich man, worth perhaps no less than a hundred thousand dollars, but he was about as small a specimen of manhood as was ever permitted to live in this western country, where such characters as a rule are not tolerated long at a time. When the boy asked to be paid for his services Kelly coolly handed him the amount due, less the cost of the pony—with the purchase of which he had had nothing to do, mind you—saying that he would deduct the amount paid for the animal from the boy’s pay. Maxwell was indignant, but helpless. He could only appeal for his just dues. This he did when opportunity offered, and seeing Kelly in a bank one day, went in and asked him for the balance which he thought should be to his credit. Kelly turned upon him with wrath and poured a stream of profanity upon him, exclaiming as he went out of the bank:
“I’ll teach you, you d—d little s— of a b—, to ask me for money!”
He passed out of sight for the time, and Maxwell thought no more of the matter until he saw Kelly coming down the street with a rifle thrown across his shoulder. He was then uncertain as to the man’s purpose and made no attempt to get away. Passing down the street on the opposite side from the boy, he said nothing until directly across from him, when he threw his gun across the wheel of a wagon for a rest, and, taking deliberate aim at Maxwell, shot him down in his tracks. The boy fell bleeding, crying:
“O Mr. Kelly, you have shot me; please let me live. I will not bother you again.”
Kelly loaded his gun and walked across the street, saying in response to the lad’s utterances:
“I don’t think you will,” responded Kelly as he placed the muzzle of the weapon to the boy’s ear; “not if I know what I am about. No, you won’t ask me for any more money in a public bank. I’ll warrant you don’t.”
As he spoke the last words the trigger was pulled, and the top of the writhing boy’s head was blown almost off by the bullet which went crashing through it.