by Frank Triplett
Treacherous Death of Jesse James (1882)
Very soon after the Russellville robbery it was that Jesse started for California. He had in some measure recruited his health and strength through the care and kind nursing of his Kentucky friends, but still had a terrible cough accompanied by hectic fever. Journeying to New York by easy stages so as not to overtax his strength, he reached there with every probability of safely making the voyage to the golden shores of the Pacific Slope.Resting a few days before taking passage, he took in the principal objects of interest in the great city; and it speaks well for the natural character of the man that his visits were oftener to the libraries, art museums, et., than to the abodes of gilded vice and sin. Temperate by nature, easy, self-possessed and gentlemanly in his demeanor, his dress was as modest as the man himself, and he would never have been selected, so far as any outward indication went, as a bandit and desperado. In one thing only did he give way to temptation. Like most men of generous impulses, he was a born gambler. His nerve and judgement were both excellent, and in all games of chance he played with great skill. In New York, finding time to hang heavily on his hands, he visited the palatial room of John Chamberlain and made several large winnings.
At one of his sittings against faro he seemed to play with unusual recklessness, still fortune favored him. His gains had run up to thousands, but still he played on. At last one of those creatures who hang around such places started to pick up a stack of his "chips" lying on one of the cards. Jesse turned in his seat slightly, and mildly requested him to put the checks back.
"They are mine," said the crab, as fellows are called in sporting parlance, "the card was 'dead,' and any body has a right to take up a 'sleeper'"
"Put those checks down this instant," said Jesse, a hard, cold light stealing into his eyes, and the lines around his mouth becoming more firmly set.
The "crab," seeing that this was not a man to be imposed upon, regretfully placed the stack back upon the table.
"Now," said Jesse, turning to the dealer, "is it customary in your house for any stacks taht may be overlooked to become the property of any person noticing this state of things?"
"Yes," said the dealer, "such is the custom in all of the houses in New York."
"Then," said Jesse. "I'll submit to custom," and he turned over the checks to the "crab," cashed his own, and left the house with between $4,000 and $5,000.
The next day he was aboard of the steamer bound for the Isthmus of Panama. Here he relaxed his vigilance and gave way thoroughly to social pleasures. He was the life of that little world, and never seemed to tire in his attempts to contribute to the amusement of the rest. At last they reach the Isthmus, cross over to the milder waters of the Pacific, first seen of Balboa, and everywhere his wonder is excited by the rich growth of the tropical trees, fruits and flowers.
At last their new ocean house reaches the Golden Gate and is safely moored to her pier at San Francisco. Amazed at the strangely cosmopolitan crowd of the city, he lingers here a few days, and at last regretfully takes his leave for the health-giving springs at Paso Robles. Here dwelt his uncle, a gentleman of wealth, culture and refinement, and with him Jesse made his home during his sojourn in California. Here, too, he was joined by Frank, as soon as the wound of the latter, received from a mob at Brandenburg,Ky., had healed sufficiently for him to make the trip. Together the two brothers, who, despite all tales to the contrary, were always loving and affectionate towards each other, enjoyed for the first time in years the sense of perfect peace and security.
As elsewhere stated, the climate worked wonders for their health, and in six months, finding no avocations open in the already densely over-crowded marts of the Golden State, they turned back towards Missouri. They concluded to return on horseback, partly through curiosity, partly that they hoped to find in their long ride something to which they could turn as a business.
Seeming many of that adventurous, hardy class called "prospectors," making their way into the mountains, their "burros" loaded with blankets, tools supplies, they concluded to try their luck. Purchasing an outfit, they pushed on to Battle Mountain, just then the new excitement amongst miners. Here they went into camp and began work in earnest, for it was always one of their characteristics that whatever they took hold of they did with great energy. Rapidly posting themselves as to the best mode of "prospecting," or searching out the hidden treasures of nature, they soon became proficient, and might have settled down into hard-handed, honest miners, or become mighty millionaires, but for an unlucky incident. The new mining camp had already received the somewhat more than doubtful blessing of a "dance house." This is a peculiarly Western institution; a large barn-like shanty is fitted with a floor, a space railed off for several sets of dancers, and the rest of the room filled with gambling tables and a bar. Every imaginable species of baning game is dealt in these houses, amongst others Spanish Monte. The Jameses frequently visited this place and risked their money freely, but were invariably lucky; Jesse on one occasion "tapping" the bank of "Curley" Sam, the dealer. This so incensed Sam that he formed a clique of the other gamblers and determined to fleece the strangers. The occasion soon came. One night while the Jameses were in the hall listening to the somewhat dolorous strains of the orchestra and amusedly watching the evolutions of the painted prostitutes and their drunken partners. "Curley" came up to Jesse, and touching him on the shoulder, said: "I want my revenge."
"All right," said Jesse, "you can have it: what shall it be?"
"Draw-poker," said Curley, and soon he and his partner were engaged with Frank and Jesse. The gamblers lost steadily, and began to see that in a straight game they were no match for their opponents. Tipping his partner a wink, "Curley" ran over the cards lightly and "palmed out" two aces. Jesse noticed this, but said nothing until they began to bet on their hands. Then watching "Curley" so closely as to give him no chance to "wring in" his stolen cards, he raised him bet after bet until at last Curley weakened, and threw down his hand. Jesse took up the money, looked at Curley's hand, and said: "Seven cards; can't you play without trying to swindle?"
"It's a lie," said Curley; "I never tried to swindle."
Slapping him in the face with his open hand, Jesse arose from the table, saying to Frank, "See to the door."
Whirling back to back, Frank faces the door while Jesse, not a moment too soon, straightens out his arm, his revolver is heard, and Curley drops upon the floor with his right arm crushed by a pistol bullet. The knife in his upraised hand fell upon the table, its point piercing the stolen hand of the gambler. "Make for the door," said Jesse; and through the crowd that was fast gathering to cut off thier access to the open air they fought their way gallantly. The numbers of their enemies did not appal them, and in fact it gave them additional safety, for they feared for a while to fire at the Jameses for fear of hitting each other, so they hacked at them with their Bowie knives. It was a desperate strait; and for awhile it looked as if these men, who had bolding faced all odds upon the field of battle, were destined to be cooped up in a den, like rats in a cage. "Shoot to kill, Frank!" said Jesse, who up to this time had been content to fire only with the purpose of disabling his antagonists. The battle now began in earnest, and the thinning ranks of the gamblers gradually gave way until, by a bold rush, the boys made for the open door, turn, fire a parting volley, and are off.
Nothing was done that night by the gamblers beyond counting up their costs and losses. Curley Sam and two others with broken right arms, one man shot through the forehead and instantly killed, and two others shot by thier own party in the affray and dangerously wounded. The Jameses were cut in several places by the knives of their opponents, and two or three bullets had cut their hats and clothing. Their wounds, however, were mere scratches.
In cities where cowards desire revenge they raise a mob; in the mountains they do the same, only they call thier mob a "vigilance committee," or vigilantes. Such a mob was duly organized the next day by the gamblers, and they were in high glee. But they had reckoned without their host, for, as the gamblers would have expressed it, Frank and Jesse had properly "sized them up," and knew that they would receive a call. Sending Frank to the mountain meadow for their horses, Jesse prepared to hold thier cabin against the enemy until his brother's return. Frank arrived about sunset,with the horses fresh and in good condition.
"What shall we do?" said Frank.
"Stay and fight it out," said Jesse; "d--d if I'll run from the dirty cowards."
But the cooler counsel of Frank prevailed, and Jesse agreed to go, only stipulating that they should wait until the gamblers appeared and treat them to one of their old guerrilla rushes, and then leave the mountains forever.
The sun had sunk behind "the misty mountain top," and the winds, chill from their contact with eh everlasting summit snows, brought renewed vigor to both men and steeds. Soon the advance of the vigilantes is heard, their ribald oaths making strange contrast with the sighing of the gigantic pines. Nearer they come, and shouts and jeers ring upon the air. At last they are within a hundred and fifty yards of the two men sitting like statues upon thier steeds, under the shade of beetling crags. "Now," said Jesse, and with a touch to their noble horses they bounded at once into a full racing gallop straight at the mob. Now goes up the old guerrilla yell, and some of the mob who had heard it in combat in Missouri prudently turned from the road into the dense woods and sought safety in flight. "Them's some of Quantrell's d--d guerrillas," said a Kansan, who had fought them on their retreat from Lawrence, "I know that yell."
Small time was there for interchange of shots: the Jameses are upon them, over them and gone. A few are ridden down and badly bruised, two receive wounds requiring amputation of their arms, and one or two more only slightly wounded, while the boys got off with a slight scratch on Jesse's shoulder, and a trifling wound on Frank's horse. Knowing that they could not return to Battle Mountain they rode to the southward, and after several adventures passed into Arizona. Here they had brush with a small band of Mescalero Apaches, who were out on a horse-stealing mission, but not averse to a murder if a small party of white men fell in their way. Amazed at the temerity of men who could dare to pass in couples through their country, they made an attack upon them. This was met rather more than half way by Frank and Jesse, who with defiant yells answered the savage war whoop of their enemies, and bursting in full career upon thier line killed one savage and mortally wounded another. Turning in swift flight from these daring brothers, the Indians fled in dismay, and the boys, content in "let well enough alone," resumed their journey without pursuing the flying enemy. As far as they could see, looking back over miles of blooming cactus and intervening plain, the Apaches still formed an admiring but respectful group upon a slight eminence.
Could these bronzed Apaches and their lithe steeds have been transfixed on canvas by a Wimar, it would have presented the finest pictures ever seen of Indian admiration. In the Western part of New Mexico, not far from the line of Old Mexico, lived a wealthy ranchero named Armijo. Of near kin to the Armijos of the Spain, this old gentleman belonged to the blue blooded families of Castile. His wife, long since dead, had left him a beautiful daughter, Juana, or as the old gentleman always affectionately called her, Juanita. At the two o'clock of the morning of the visit of the Jameses to the hacienda of Don Miguel Armijo the Apaches, under the lead of one of the noted Victorias's warriors, had struck the hacienda, driving off large herds of stock, and having found Juana Armijo out riding with one of her maids, had captured them and ridden off to hold them for ransom or worse fate.
Everybody at the hacienda was in tears. Frank, who is an accomplished linguist, soon ascertained the state of affairs.
"Have you made any pursuit?" said he to Don Miguel. "None," said the old gentleman, "there is no one here to lead them, and the vaqueros won't pursue the Indians by themselves.
"Did they get your horses?" asked Frank.
"No; they were being driven in to be branded, so they missed them."
"How many Indians were there?" again asked Frank.
Ascertaining that there about eight or ten Indians, and that he could get five or six Mexican cow-boys, he and Jesse got fresh horses, and started in rapid pursuit, the old gentleman showering blessings upon them, but muttering at the same time, "Pero ellos son Apaches--ellos son Apaches! ("But they are Apaches--they are Apaches.") No doubt thinking that any other men might be overcome, but the Apaches never.
One of the Mexican vaqueros knew of a trail leading to a pass where the Indians might be intercepted, as they were incumbered with t a large drove of cattle and must keep to the broader valley trails. Arriving at the pass at four o'clock in the afternoon they formed an ambush, and waited for the Indians to come up. About six o'clock, unsuspicious of danger, they entered the pass, driving the cattle in advance, and some distance in the rear an old Indian was guarding the captives.
"Now," said Jesse to Frank, "as I'm the best shot I'll take care of the old fellow in the rear, while you and your Mexicans give it to those in front. If I miss the old devil, up go the girls to a certainty.
"Ready," said Jesse, who had leveled on the old Indian, distant a hundred yards; while the rest of the band were in the pass just abreast of the ambush.
"Son Vds. listo," whispered Frank to his men.
"Fuego, hombres!" he shouted.
At that sound the volley roared out. Jesse looked at his man, saw him fumble at his gun, then fall from his saddle, and then turned his attention to the others. Taken completely by surprise, and retreat cut off up the pass by the dense masses of cattle and in the rear by their enemies, every Indians was killed in the narrow canyon.
The Senorita Juana welcomed them as angels of deliverance, and the next afternoon she, her maid and his herds were delivered into the hands of the old Don. His gratitude knew no bounds, and it is said that a somewhat warmer feeling than that of gratitude had already taken possession of his daughter toward the man whose deadly aim and dauntless courage had saved her from a fate a thousand times worse than death; but Jesse, sighing only for a pair of blue eyes that he knew were ready to smile upon him in Missouri, insisted on getting back home once more. Refusing princely offers of remuneration, the old Don at last prevailed upon them to accept the sum of $5,000 and they rode off, never again to see the face of the kindly Don and his lovely daughter. To them the knowledge may never come of his fate; but should it ever reach them, could they be blamed if their hearts and eyes were filled with tears for the brave, even if guilty, man, who came to them as angel of light, even though by others painted in colors of the blackest shade?"
Main Section of Teddy Blue's Bunkhouse
