“That’s the mysterious part of it. It was done by some one who don’t wish to be known. He’s an exceptional scoundrel; generally, our murders are committed publicly.”
“Have you no idea who committed the deed?”
“Oh, yes, but then I may be mistaken. I’ll say nothing about that at present. The woman was ready to leave for Boise this morning with the negro Hanson, who has been living with her for some time. I don’t think Hanson killed her, but it can do no harm to arrest him on suspicion, and hear his statement.”
This brief colloquy occurred in Helena on a Sabbath morning in September, 1867. The town was at that time infested with thieves, ruffians, and murderers. Shooting affrays, resulting in death to some of the parties concerned, had been of almost daily occurrence for several weeks, and the citizens began to fear a return of the days of 1863.
X. Beidler ate deliberately, and when he had finished, sauntered out in pursuit of Hanson, whom he soon found, arrested, and took before a magistrate. The negro was frightened, but protested his innocence.
“How was it?” inquired the justice, in a kind tone. “Tell us all you know.”
“I’ll do that, sure,” replied Hanson. “You see, this woman and I were jest as close friends as there’s any need of. She had eight hundred dollars in dust and greenbacks, and three horses. We had agreed some time ago to go to Boise, and made our arrangements to leave this very morning. I went up to the house last evening and found a white man there. I didn’t take no partikler notice of the man, but I think I would know him again if I saw him. I left, and did not go back till this morning, when I found the woman lying dead upon the floor. ’Fore God, that is all I know about the murder of the woman.”
After a few more questions relating to the size and general appearance of the man whom he left in company with the woman, Hanson was discharged.
“I know,” said X., significantly, “that he is not guilty. Let him go. We’ll look further for the murderer.”
Some ten days previous to this time, Hon. William H. Claggett had come over from Deer Lodge to address the citizens of Helena on the issues of the political campaign, then in progress. He brought with him a Henry rifle marked on the stock with his initials. Forgetting to take it from the coach on his arrival, he returned from the hotel after it, and it was gone. It had been stolen during his momentary absence. After a diligent but unsuccessful search, it was given up for lost. X., however, promised to keep a lookout for it.