Buck Stinson was born near Greencastle, Indiana. His parents removed to Andrew County, Missouri, when he was about fourteen years of age. He was a bright and very studious boy, was devoted to his books, which he read almost constantly, and gave promise of genius; and many who knew him predicted for him a brilliant and honorable future. His family was highly respectable.
Henry Plummer was born in the State of Connecticut, and was in the twenty-seventh year of his age at the time of his death. His wife, who had gone to her former home in the States three months previous to his execution, was entirely ignorant of the guilty life he was leading, and for some time after his death believed that he had fallen a victim to a conspiracy. She was, however, fully undeceived, and the little retrospect which her married life with him afforded, convinced her of his infamy.
Many of the citizens of Montana doubted whether the name by which he was known was his true one; but its genuineness has been established in many ways, and, among others, by the following incident, which I here relate as well to illustrate the subtlety of Plummer, as to show the standing and character of his family relations.
In the Summer of 1869, soon after the completion of the first transcontinental railway, being in New York City, I was requested by Edwin R. Purple, who resided in Bannack in 1862, to call with him upon a sister and brother of Plummer. He learned from them that they had been misled concerning the cause of their brother’s execution by letters which he wrote to them in 1863, in which he told them that he was in constant danger of being hanged because of his attachment to the Union. They honestly believed that his loyalty and patriotism had cost him his life, and they mourned his loss not only as a brother, but as a martyr in the cause of his country. From the moment that they heard of his death, they had determined, if ever opportunity offered, to pursue and punish his murderers, and, with that purpose in view, were about to leave by railroad for Ogden, Utah, and complete the remaining five hundred miles of the trip to Montana by stage coach. The next day, accompanied by Mr. Purple, I had an interview with them, and found them to be well-educated, cultivated people. They were very eager in their desire to find and punish the murderers of their brother, and repeatedly avowed their intention to leave, almost immediately, in pursuit of them. Both Mr. Purple and I used all the plausible arguments we could summon to dissuade them from the undertaking, without revealing any of the causes which led to Plummer’s death. All to no purpose. Finding them resolved, we concluded that, rather than allow them to suffer from the deception they labored under, we would put in their hands Dimsdale’s “Vigilantes,” with the assurance that all it contained relative to their brother was true. We urged them to satisfy themselves, from a perusal of it, of the utter fruitlessness of their contemplated journey. The following day we called upon the brother, who, with a voice broken by sobs and sighs, informed us that his sister was so prostrated with grief at the revelation of her brother’s career that she could not see us. He thanked us for making known to them the terrible history, which otherwise they would have learned under circumstances doubly afflicting, after a long and tedious journey.
CHAPTER XXXVI
DEATH OF PIZANTHIA
The next movements of the Vigilantes were followed up with remarkable expedition. The work they had laid out contemplated the execution of every member of Plummer’s band who, upon fair trial, should be proved guilty of robbery or murder. They intended also to punish such incidental rascals as were known to be guilty of crime, and to act as a protective police, until such time as a competent judiciary should be established in the Territory. There were many suspicious characters prowling around the gulches, who, though unaffiliated with the robber gang, were engaged in the constant commission of crimes. Flumes were robbed, burglaries committed, and broils were of frequent occurrence. The country was full of horse and cattle thieves. By prompt and severe punishment in all cases of detection, and by the speedy arrest and examination of all suspected persons, the Committee intended to strike with terror the entire lawless population, which had so long and unceasingly violated the laws and privileges of civilized life with impunity.
The execution of Plummer, Stinson, and Ray met with general approbation. Every good man in the community was anxious to become enrolled on the list of the Vigilantes. The dark shadow of crime, which had hung like an angry cloud over the Territory, had faded before the omnipresence of Vigilante justice. The very feeling of safety inspired by the change was the strongest security for the growth and efficiency of the organization.
The morning succeeding the execution, the Committee met to devise further measures for the arrest of the criminals still at large. None of the reputed members of Plummer’s band were then in Bannack. There was, however, a Mexican known by the name of Jo Pizanthia, living in a little cabin built against the side of one of the hills overlooking the town. Being the only Mexican in the place, he went by the designation of “The Greaser.” He brought with him to the Territory the reputation of a desperado, robber, and murderer. With a view to investigating his career in the Territory, the Committee ordered his immediate arrest, and sent a party to the cabin to effect it. The little building was closed, and there was nothing in the appearance of the newly fallen snow to indicate that it had been occupied since the previous day. George Copley and Smith Ball, two esteemed citizens, led the public force, and, advancing in front of it to the door of the cabin, called upon the Mexican by name to come forth. No answer being made, they concluded, against the advice of their comrades, to enter the cabin. Cautiously lifting the latch, the two men stepped over the threshold, each receiving, as he did so, the fire of the desperate inmate. Copley was shot in the breast, and Ball in the hip. Both staggered out, exclaiming in the same breath, “I’m shot.” Two of the company supported Copley to the hotel, but the poor fellow died of the wound in a few moments. Ball recovered sufficiently to remain upon the ground.
When it was known that Copley was killed, the exasperation of the party at the dastardly deed knew no bounds. They instantly decided to inflict summary vengeance upon the murderer. Protected by the logs of the cabin, of which the door was the only entrance, the crowd appreciated the Mexican’s facilities for making an obstinate and bloody defence. How to secure him without injury to themselves, called for the exercise of strategy rather than courage. Fortunately, a dismounted mountain howitzer which had been left by a wagon train lay near by; and bringing this to a point within a few rods of the side of the cabin, they placed it upon a box, and loaded it with shell. At the first discharge, the fuse being uncut, the missile tore through the logs without explosion. The second was equally unsuccessful, on account of the shortness of range. Aim was now directed at the chimney, upon the supposition that the man might have sought refuge within it, and a solid shot sent through it—the men meantime firing into the hole made by the shell in the side of the cabin. No shot was fired in return.
A storming party was now formed, the men of Nevada being the first to join it. Half a dozen in number, the men moved steadily onward under cover of neighboring cabins, until they reached the space between them and the beleaguered citadel. Rushing impetuously across, they stood in front of the entrance, the door having fallen inwards from the fusillade. Looking cautiously into the cabin, they discovered the boots of the Mexican, protruding beneath the door, which had fallen upon him. Lifting the door, they dragged him forth. He was badly injured, but, on the moment of his appearance, Smith Ball emptied his revolver into his body. A clothes-line near was taken down, and fastened round his neck, and an ambitious citizen climbed a pole, and, while those below held up the body of the expiring Mexican, he fastened the rope to the top of the pole. Into the body thus suspended, the crowd discharged more than a hundred shots,—satiating their thirst for revenge upon a ghastly corpse.