As the coach approached the next station, at Chansau’s ranche, with Slade as the driver, two of the four men sent to secure Jules were seen riding towards it at a spanking pace. Slade and his friends at once concluded that they had failed in their designs, but the shouts of the men who swung their hats as they passed the coach reassured them, and Slade drove rapidly up in front of the station. Jumping from the box, he walked hurriedly to the door. There were several persons standing near, all, as was customary, armed with pistol and knife. Slade drew the pistol from the belt of one standing in the doorway, and glancing hastily to see that it was loaded, said,—“I want this.” He then came out, and at a rapid stride went to the corral in rear of the station where Jules was a prisoner. As soon as he came in sight of him, he fired his pistol, intending to hit him between the eyes, but he had aimed too low, and the ball struck him in the mouth, and glanced off without causing material injury. Jules fell upon his back, and simulated the mortal agony so well that for a few moments the people supposed the wound was fatal. Slade discovered the deception at a glance.
“I have not hurt you,” said he, “and no deception is necessary. I have determined to kill you, but having failed in this shot, I will now, if you wish it, give you time to make your will.”
Jules replied that he should like to do so; and a gentleman who was awaiting the departure of the coach volunteered to draw it up for him. The inconvenience of walking back and forth from the corral to the station, through the single entrance in front of the latter, made this a protracted service. The will was finally completed and read to Jules. He expressed himself satisfied with it, and the drawer of it went to the station to get a pen and ink, with which he could sign it. When he returned a moment afterwards, Jules was dead. Slade had shot him in the head during that temporary absence.
Slade went to Fort Laramie and surrendered himself a prisoner to the officer in command. Military authority was the only law of the country, and though this action of Slade may have a farcical appearance when taken in consideration with the circumstances preceding it, yet it was all that he could do to signify his desire for an investigation. The officers of the fort, familiar with all the facts, discharged him, with their unanimous approval of the course he had pursued. The French friends of Jules never harmed him. The whole subject was carefully investigated by the stage company, which, as the best evidence it could give of approval, continued Slade in its employ.
This is the history of the quarrel between Slade and Jules Reni, as I have received it from a gentleman familiar with all its phases from its commencement to its close. The aggravated form in which the narrative has been laid before the public, charging Slade with having tied his victim to a tree, and firing at him at different times during the day, taunting him meantime, and subjecting him to a great variety of torture, before killing him, is false in every particular. Jules was not only the first, but the most constant aggressor. In a community favored with laws and an organized police, Slade would not have been justified in the course he pursued, yet, under our most favored institutions, more flagrant cases than this daily escape conviction. In the situation he accepted, an active business man, intrusted with duties which required constant exposure of his person both night and day, what else could he do, to save his own life, than kill the person who threatened and sought an opportunity to take it? Law would not protect him. The promise which Jules had made with the halter about his neck, to leave the country, did not prevent his return to avenge himself upon Slade. It was impossible to avoid a collision with him; and to kill him under such circumstances was as clear an act of self-defence, as if, in a civilized community, he had been slain by his adversary with his pistol at his heart.
Slade’s career, relieved from the infamy of this transaction, presents no feature for severe public condemnation, until several years after its occurrence. He retained his position as division agent, discharging his duties acceptably, and was, in fact, regarded by the company as their most efficient man. When the route was changed from Laramie to the Cherokee Trail, he removed his headquarters to a beautiful nook in the Black Hills, which he named Virginia Dale, after his wife, whom he loved fondly.
His position as division agent often involved him unavoidably in difficulty with ranchemen and saloon-keepers. At one time, after the violation of a second request to sell no liquor to his employees, Slade riddled a wayside saloon, and poured the liquor into the street. On another occasion, seemingly without provocation, he and his men took possession of the sutler’s quarters at Fort Halleck, and so conducted themselves as to excite the animosity of the officers of the garrison, who determined to punish him for the outrage. Following him in the coach to Denver, they arrested and would not release him, until the company assured them he should leave the division.
This threw him out of employment, and he went immediately to Carlisle, Illinois, whence, early in the Spring of 1863, he drifted with the tide of emigration to the Beaverhead mines. As with all men of ardent temperament, his habits of drinking, by long indulgence, had passed by his control. He was subject to fits of occasional intoxication, and these, unfortunately, became so frequent that seldom a week passed unmarked by the occurrence of one or more scenes of riot, in which he was the chief actor. Liquor enkindled all the evil elements of his volcanic nature. He was as reckless and ungovernable as a maniac under its influence, but even those who had suffered outrage at his hands during these explosive periods, were disarmed of hostility by his gentle, amiable deportment, and readiness always to make reparation on the return of sobriety. His fits of rowdyism, moreover, always left him a determined business man, with an aim and purpose in life. As a remarkable manifestation of this latter quality, soon after he went to Montana, a steamboat freighted with goods from St. Louis, unable from low water to ascend the Missouri to Fort Benton, had discharged her cargo at Milk River, in a country filled with hostile Indians; and Slade was the only man to be found in the mines willing to encounter the risk of carrying the goods by teams to their place of destination in the Territory. The distance was seven hundred miles, full half of which was unmarked by a road. The several bands of the Blackfeet occupied the country on the north, and the Crows, Gros-Ventres, and Sioux on the south. Slade collected a company of teamsters, led them to the spot, and returned safely with the goods, meeting with adventures enough on the way to fill a volume.
After the discovery of Alder Gulch, Slade went to Virginia City. It was there that I first met him. Slade came with a team to my lumber-yard, and selecting from the piles a quantity of long boards, directed the teamsters to load and take them away. After the men had started with the load, Slade asked me,
“How long credit will you give me on this purchase?”