CHAPTER XXX.FARMER ASKEW'S FATE.
During the time General Jone's amnesty measure was pending in the Legislature of Missouri, Jesse and Frank James remained very quiet. They even opened up communication with Governor Charles H. Hardin and Attorney-General John A. Hockaday, through Sheriff Groome, of Clay county. From all the evidence at present available, we are forced to believe that at this time Jesse and Frank James were sincerely anxious that the measure should be adopted, and were in earnest in the desire to conclude a peace with society with which they had been at war for ten long years.
For a time their vengeance slumbered. It was known to them that certain neighbors of theirs in Clay county had taken an active interest in the efforts which had been put forth to accomplish their arrest, and every one expected that a bloody retaliation would follow. Their conduct had made for them many enemies in the community of which their father had been an honored member. Some of these were open and outspoken in denunciation of their course, while others were restrained in expressions of hostility by their knowledge of the desperate and vengeful character of the men.
But the Jameses knew when to restrain themselves, and carefully abstained from any act that might lose to them the effect of the slight revulsion in public opinion in their favor caused by the tragic results of the night raid. But they had marked their men—vengeance was only delayed. Possibly, if General Jone's amnesty measure had succeeded, they would have withheld the hand of destruction, and their intended victims, instead of mouldering in gory graves, might to-day be alive. It is impossible to even conjecture what might have been the effect on the future life of the daring desperado, Jesse James. He might have turned away from the evil way which he had travelled so long, and atoned by an upright life for all the past. But it was not to be. For to them—
"The die now cast, their station known,Fond expectation past;The thorns which former days had sown,To crops of late repentance grown,Through which they toil'd at last;While every care's a driving harm,That helped to bear them down;Which faded smiles no more could charm,But every tear a winter storm,And every look a frown."
"The die now cast, their station known,Fond expectation past;The thorns which former days had sown,To crops of late repentance grown,Through which they toil'd at last;While every care's a driving harm,That helped to bear them down;Which faded smiles no more could charm,But every tear a winter storm,And every look a frown."
"The die now cast, their station known,Fond expectation past;The thorns which former days had sown,To crops of late repentance grown,Through which they toil'd at last;While every care's a driving harm,That helped to bear them down;Which faded smiles no more could charm,But every tear a winter storm,And every look a frown."
"The die now cast, their station known,
Fond expectation past;
The thorns which former days had sown,
To crops of late repentance grown,
Through which they toil'd at last;
While every care's a driving harm,
That helped to bear them down;
Which faded smiles no more could charm,
But every tear a winter storm,
And every look a frown."
They were outlaws still. Hunted as enemies of their kind, they turned viciously to avenge what they, no doubt, earnestly believed their wrongs.
Among those who had expressed in strong terms his disapproval of the conduct of the James Boys, was Mr. Daniel H. Askew, a well-to-do farmer, andsomewhat prominent citizen of Clay county, whose farm and residence was near the home of the Jameses. The outspoken opinion of Mr. Askew had given great offense to the Jameses and their friends, and when the night raid was made in January they at once suspected that Askew had been partly instrumental in bringing it about. This belief was strengthened by some of the scouts in the interest of the Jameses finding a couple of blankets, and evidences of the late presence of men among Mr. Askew's haystacks. To still further confirm them in the belief that Askew assisted the detectives in the attack on the Samuels house, a young man known as Jack Ladd, who had been in Askew's employ as a farmer, departed from the country on the night of the assault.
It is but justice to the memory of Mr. Askew, to state in this place that he frequently and earnestly disclaimed having any knowledge whatever of the movements of the detectives in the employ of Mr. Pinkerton. But his denials had no weight with the vengeful Jameses. They and their friends continued to believe that the attacking party were sheltered and led by farmer Daniel H. Askew, and they resolved to execute dire vengeance upon him.
On the night of April 12th, 1875, Mr. Askew went with a bucket to a spring some distance from his residence, and returned to the house with the bucket filled with water. He had sat the bucket on a bench and was standing on his back porch, not having yetentered the house after returning from the spring. Just in the rear of the house, and within ten paces of the edge of the porch on which Mr. Askew was standing, there was a heap of firewood reaching perhaps to the height of five or six feet. Behind this wood-heap the assassins found a convenient hiding place. Whoever they may have been, they had ridden to the rear of a field, hitched their horses, and walked through the field to their place of concealment.
Death of Farmer Askew.
Death of Farmer Askew.
Death of Farmer Askew.
Suddenly the report of a pistol, followed instantaneously by the report of two shots, rang out on the night air, and Mr. Askew fell upon the floor of the porch and immediately expired. Some members of the family, in a great state of alarm, rushed out to his assistance, but found him already dead. Three shots, evidently fired from heavy revolvers, had taken effect in the head of the poor farmer, and one had crashed through his brain.
The murderers had run back across the field, mounted their horses and departed before the grief-stricken and astonished family could make any movements toward discovering their identity.
That night at a late hour some men on horseback rode by the house of Mr. Henry Sears, and summoned him to the door. He saw three men in the road. One of them called to him and said, "We have killed Dan Askew to-night, and if anyone wants to know who did it, say detectives."
Having thus delivered their terrible message, themen rode away in the dark. And the friends and neighbors gathered to the Askew farm-house to console his bereaved and stricken family, and the coroner came next day, "due inquisition to make into the causes which led to Daniel H. Askew's death." But from that day to this no one knows to a certainty who took the farmer's life. The general belief at the time was, that he had fallen a victim to the vengeance of the James Boys. The years that have elapsed have only served to strengthen that belief and deepen the convictions of those who believed that Askew died at the hands of the vengeful outlaws. Who can tell? Only Him who knoweth all things, and the assassins, if still alive, hold the dreadful secret.
CHAPTER XXXI.GOLD DUST—THE MUNCIE BUSINESS.
"Scores may be found whose errant-timeKnow not one hour of rest;Their lives one course of faithless crime,Their every deed—unrest."
"Scores may be found whose errant-timeKnow not one hour of rest;Their lives one course of faithless crime,Their every deed—unrest."
"Scores may be found whose errant-timeKnow not one hour of rest;Their lives one course of faithless crime,Their every deed—unrest."
"Scores may be found whose errant-time
Know not one hour of rest;
Their lives one course of faithless crime,
Their every deed—unrest."
Muncie is a little wayside station on the Kansas Pacific Railroad, not many miles from Kansas City, in Wyandotte county, Kansas. The situation, surroundings and small importance of the place in other respects, were not calculated to give it a wide-spread fame; and yet Muncie has become a place of historic renown, as the scene of one of the most daring exploits of the most renowned outlaws of modern times.
It happened one dreary December evening in the year 1875. On that occasion the programme which had served at Gadshill was carried out at Muncie. A band of armed men, well mounted, and keen and alert, had waited until the east-bound passenger train on the great thoroughfare between the rich mines of the West and the centers of commerce in the East arrived near their chosen lair. The topography of the region, and other favorable circumstances, rendered the task one of easy accomplishment, though it involved an exhibition of daring which few men care to manifest.
In some way the bandits, of which Frank and Jesse James were chiefs, had information that a large amount of silver and gold was in charge of the express messenger on that train. It has been said that this information was transmitted to them by Jackson Bishop, who had been a noted Guerrilla in Quantrell's command, and who, subsequent to the cessation of hostilities, had journeyed to the "Far West," and entered into business as a mining operator in Colorado. Be that as it may, one thing is certain, the knights of the road had information that the express company had treasures in trust that trip, and these they were ready to appropriate.
In due time the train approached Muncie. There was no sign of warning, and when the engine came to a standstill at the wayside station, in obedience to a signal, it was immediately taken possession of by seven men. The engineer and fireman were carefully guarded. The passengers were admonished and intimidated by the presence of armed men on the platforms of the cars, whose formidable pistols seemed to be pointed at each individual passenger, and the harsh commands of those men were obeyed with alacrity by the surprised passengers. But the robbers were generous that evening. The treasure in the express car was what they sought. Individual possessions were as "the small dust" compared to that.
The express messenger was immediately confronted. Demands were made upon him with whichhe was compelled to comply. The safe was opened, and then the robbers proceeded to examine the contents of that treasure box at their leisure. The gain was worth the daring. Their reward wasthirty thousand dollars in gold dust. The contents of the car were further examined, and a large amount of silver and other valuables were secured.
On this occasion the bandits were content with the spoils of the express car, which, it is said, amounted to aboutfifty-five thousand dollars. The passengers were, therefore, not subjected to the manipulations of the robbers.
As usual, the news of this fresh outrage by bandits was flashed far and wide. The country was aroused, and in an incredibly short space of time many bands of men were abroad in all directions, hunting the robbers. All their efforts proved vain. The shrewd raiders escaped with their booty.
A few days after the great train robbery at Muncie, a police officer at Kansas City, in the discharge of his duty, arrested one Bill McDaniels, charged with being drunk on the street. When he was brought to the station and searched, articles on his person were identified as having been taken from the express car at Muncie. Every possible effort was made to induce Bill McDaniels to designate his confederates in the train robbery. But to every proposition he was deaf, and finally, in attempting to escape, he was shot dead, dying without revealing the name of his confederates. The bandits escaped.
CHAPTER XXXII.OTHER EXPLOITS.
"Where I am injured, there I'll sue redress,Look to it, every one who bars my access;I have a heart to feel the injury,A hand to right myself, and by my honor,That hand shall grasp what gray beard Law denies me."
"Where I am injured, there I'll sue redress,Look to it, every one who bars my access;I have a heart to feel the injury,A hand to right myself, and by my honor,That hand shall grasp what gray beard Law denies me."
"Where I am injured, there I'll sue redress,Look to it, every one who bars my access;I have a heart to feel the injury,A hand to right myself, and by my honor,That hand shall grasp what gray beard Law denies me."
"Where I am injured, there I'll sue redress,
Look to it, every one who bars my access;
I have a heart to feel the injury,
A hand to right myself, and by my honor,
That hand shall grasp what gray beard Law denies me."
The James Boys have always claimed that they were driven into outlawry by the very instrumentality which organized society has employed to subserve the ends of justice and afford protection to the rights and liberties of all—namely, the government. This claim, made by them, has been partly conceded by a large class of persons, irrespective of all political affiliations and social relations. So their wild career was commenced, and so it has proceeded through many years.
That the Jameses have been accused of crimes which they did not commit, there is scarcely room for doubt. One of the deeds which has been laid to their charge was the robbery committed at Corinth, Alcorn county, Mississippi. This event happened the same day that the train was robbed at Muncie, Kansas. The two places are many hundred miles apart, and of course the Jameses could not have been at both places at the same time. It is possible, indeed probable, that the robbery at Corinth, whichstripped the bank at that place of a very large sum of money, was the handiwork of some of the members of the desperate band of men, of which the Jameses were the acknowledged leaders. The same tactics which had been so successfully employed at Ste. Genevieve, Russellville, Corydon, Gallatin, and other points, characterized the raid on the funds of the bank of Corinth. The spoils obtained were exceedingly valuable, and although energetic pursuit was made, the robbers succeeded in making their escape. Their trail, however, was followed into Missouri, and several circumstances indicate that the successful bandits were members of the same organization with the James Boys and Younger Brothers. After this there was a season of quiet.
In the spring of 1876 the robbers renewed the campaign for spoils. The incidents of the past year had begun to become memories, and the success which had attended the gang during the past years had given them confidence in their ability to plunder at will wherever they might select a field for the exhibition of their prowess and skill. The trees had assumed their green habiliments, and the early spring flowers exhaled their choicest perfumes, scenting the balmy breezes as they blew over hills and through valleys. The schemers had planned another raid. This time they selected an objective point remote from the scenes of their former deeds. It was a romantic expedition away into the mountain regions of Eastern Kentucky and the state ofWest Virginia. The spring-birds sang cheery lays as the brigands marched on to their destined halting place.
Huntington, West Virginia, is a beautiful town of about 3,000 inhabitants, situated on the Ohio river, in Cabell county, and is on the line of the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad. In 1876, the advent of the steam cars had given an impetus to trade, and the old town had taken a new growth. The bold bandits had selected Huntington as the scene of a most sensational event. The tactics which had served so well on many other occasions were once more adopted. On a bright April day, four men made their appearance at the bank. They had come through the streets without exciting any suspicion. When they had arrived at the front of the bank, two of them dismounted, drew their pistols, rushed into the bank, where they found Mr. Oney, the cashier, and another gentleman. These they at once covered with their pistols, and proceeded to overpower the cashier. They then emptied the contents of the safe into a sack, and leaving Oney and his friend securely bound, they proceeded to remount their horses.
While the two robbers were engaged inside, the other two, who had remained in the street, very effectually overawed the citizens who came that way, by displaying their pistols and occasionally firing a shot. The whole operation was completed within less than half an hour from the time the robbersmade their appearance in Huntington. There were not many persons who knew what had happened until after the marauders had left the place. When the people awakened to a realization of the true nature of the morning occurrence, there was at once a storm of excitement raised. Officers of the law and citizens of Huntington, without official relations, vied with each other in the alacrity with which they prepared to pursue the robbers.
As soon as the two robbers who had taken the treasure were mounted, the whole party galloped away, intimidating the citizens as they went by firing off their pistols.
A vigorous pursuit was at once commenced. The robbers were a long way from their base; and the road before them was rugged and difficult. For days the pursuit was unabated. Bligh, the well-known detective of Louisville, sent his best men on the road to track the fugitives. The chase became exciting. Diverted from their intended line of retreat, the marauders sought refuge among the mountains of Eastern Kentucky and Tennessee. The horses of the robbers failed and were abandoned. Finally the pursuers came up with the fugitives. A fight ensued, and one of the robbers was killed before they had left the borders of Kentucky. This person was identified afterward as Thomason McDaniels, a brother of Bill, who was killed while attempting to escape from the officers in Kansas City, after the affair at Muncie. The pursuit was continued.In the hills of Fentress county, Tennessee, the officers came up with the robbers again. This time they succeeded in capturing Jack Kean, another desperado, known in Western Missouri and Kentucky. The others escaped, and finally made their way into Missouri.
Kean was taken back and lodged in jail at Cabell. The grand jury of Cabell county returned a true bill against him, and in due time he was placed on trial, convicted, and received a long sentence in the penitentiary of West Virginia. The presence of McDaniels and Kean, both well-known desperadoes of Missouri, at once suggested the James Boys as leaders in the Huntington robbery. Detective Bligh at first heralded to the world that Jesse James was captured when Kean was taken. Statements subsequently made by the convicted robber left no doubt that certainly Jesse James, and probably Frank, were parties to the robbery of the bank at Huntington.
It matters not who were the robbers in name. The deed was undoubtedly committed by members of the organization of which the James Boys were the most noted leaders. The destiny which seems to have led them continued to favor them. The leaders of the Huntington raid escaped, and carried the bulk of the Huntington bank's funds with them.
CHAPTER XXXIII.JESSE'S WOOING AND WEDDING.
"Oh, say not that my heart is coldTo aught that once could warm it;That Beauty's form, so dear of old,No more has power to charm it;Or that the ungenerous world can chillOne glow of fond emotion,For those who made it dearer stillAnd shared my wild devotion."
"Oh, say not that my heart is coldTo aught that once could warm it;That Beauty's form, so dear of old,No more has power to charm it;Or that the ungenerous world can chillOne glow of fond emotion,For those who made it dearer stillAnd shared my wild devotion."
"Oh, say not that my heart is coldTo aught that once could warm it;That Beauty's form, so dear of old,No more has power to charm it;Or that the ungenerous world can chillOne glow of fond emotion,For those who made it dearer stillAnd shared my wild devotion."
"Oh, say not that my heart is cold
To aught that once could warm it;
That Beauty's form, so dear of old,
No more has power to charm it;
Or that the ungenerous world can chill
One glow of fond emotion,
For those who made it dearer still
And shared my wild devotion."
Jesse James, the bold raider and dashing outlaw, in love? Preposterous! And yet why not? Those who have studied the ways of human nature with most attention, find nothing singular in the fact that Jesse might prove an ardent lover, or wonderful in the assumption that he might be beloved in turn. Love is the grand passion after all, and few persons have lived who did not at some time in the course of their lives feel the deep chords of their hearts touched, and realize the tender spell that enchained them. Why should not Jesse James, the man of splendid physique, the very embodiment of strong passions, yield to the powerful influence which so universally sways the human heart? Rather, we might ask, why should Jesse James not "fall in love," as the expression goes? It was perfectly natural that he should at some time, somewhere, find some one endowed with the capability of awakening in him thetender passion. Was he not human? Were his emotions and constitution so different from the rest of the children of time? What if he was outlawed? Had he not eyes to see and ears to hear? Had all tender feelings found a grave in his heart?
It is true that the nature of his employment and the circumstances which surrounded him, rendered his life an isolated one to a certain extent. He was not thrown into the great whirlpool which the world calls society, and this very isolation of his position would very naturally prompt him to seek the companionship of one who could hold a nearer and dearer place in his heart than even his brother. He might yet retrieve some of the disasters of the past, and wipe out some of the stains which blurred his character, if led by the sweet, gentle influence of a true woman. Who can ever know what hopes animated him; what bright dreams of a better life cheered him, when he thought of her who would not—perhaps could not join in the general execration of his name? It may be that at such times a vision rose before him, of a quiet home with peace after the strife, where love dwelt, and where the bitter curses of the past might never come; it may be that he looked forward to the rest which would come to his tempest-riven breast, when the storm had passed and the serene sun lighted his pathway through a quiet land. And at such times it was but natural that he should seek the presence of the beloved one, and plead with her—
"Oh linger yet a moment!Is it a sin that I have loved thee so,And worshiped thy bright image? If it be,Let grief and suffering atone for that,Long as this heart can know the power of pain,—But let me look on thee and hear thee still."
"Oh linger yet a moment!Is it a sin that I have loved thee so,And worshiped thy bright image? If it be,Let grief and suffering atone for that,Long as this heart can know the power of pain,—But let me look on thee and hear thee still."
"Oh linger yet a moment!Is it a sin that I have loved thee so,And worshiped thy bright image? If it be,Let grief and suffering atone for that,Long as this heart can know the power of pain,—But let me look on thee and hear thee still."
"Oh linger yet a moment!
Is it a sin that I have loved thee so,
And worshiped thy bright image? If it be,
Let grief and suffering atone for that,
Long as this heart can know the power of pain,—
But let me look on thee and hear thee still."
And what woman ever listened unmoved to such appeals? "The brave deserve the fair," and the history of the race shows that when the heart is enlisted, when the tender bloom of love sheds its perfume around her, woman is careless of the world's opinion, and brave in daring its frowns.
Jesse had a fair cousin—a handsome young lady, possessed of an amiable disposition, and a mind well stored with knowledge. This destined bride of the distinguished outlaw is the daughter of a sister of the Rev. Robert James, who was married in the days of her youth to a Mr. Mimms. Miss Zee Mimms was deprived of a mother's love and guidance at a time when she was just entering the estate of womanhood. She had a sister older than herself who was united in marriage with Mr. Charles McBride, a respectable carpenter and builder in Kansas City, about the year 1869. For several years Miss Mimms resided with her relatives in Kansas City, and gained the respect and esteem of a large circle of acquaintances. In the days of her childhood she had known her cousin Jesse, and his bright blue eyes and soft, peach-like complexion, and the smile that used to ripple over his countenance, and his cheery words, may even then have drawn the littlegirl toward her cousin. As time went by, Zee had grown to the condition of womanhood, and Jesse had become celebrated as a daring soldier, and afterwards a reckless outlaw. But somehow Miss Zee could never believe her cousin Jesse to be so bad as he was represented, and when they met—which they frequently did—she always had a word of gentle affection for cousin Jesse, who was ever kind in his behavior toward her.
Many times Jesse James was seen in Kansas City, when to be there was an exposure to imminent peril. When the wild winds swept across the frozen river, and screamed over the hills, Jesse was accustomed to dare the fury of the tempest, brave the chill of the temperature, and seek the cosy fireside which became a shrine, when blessed by the presence of his fair cousin.
And when it was summer time and the forest pathways were gloomy in the shadows of night; and the stars in the deep azure vault of heaven alone lent their feeble rays to illuminate the dark world, then the outlaw would take his lonely way across the wide prairies, through the deep-tangled forests where the owls hide by day and hoot by night, and the wild tenants of the woodlands make their lair; by lonely streams, murmuring as their waters go on the way to mingle with the far-wandering tide of the mighty Missouri, to seek the side of her whose smile was always brighter at his coming.
What mattered it to him if the streets of the citywere deserted by all, save the guardians of the law, who, in the deep shadowed recesses waited and watched for him? His courage owned no limitations under ordinary circumstances. What might it become if stimulated by the all-intoxicating influence of love? If the watchers saw him under the gaslight in the streets of the slumbering city, they let him go, and so Jesse's courting days passed away.
The outlaw's wooing proceeded, and was completed. Who knows what thoughts were his in those days? Who can ever tell by what processes of reasoning, or influence of love, Miss Zee Mimms reciprocated the outlaw's passion? Who knows what earnest councils she held with her own mind and the processes which ended in the triumph of the affections, and a perfect yielding to him, and the development of a devotion which smiled at contumely and consented to sacrifice all things which had before been pleasing to her, at the shrine of love? His presence became necessary to her happiness, and her smile was sunlight poured into the otherwise dark recesses of the outlaw's heart.
So it came about one pleasant evening in 1874, that Jesse James and Miss Zee Mimms repaired to the house of Dr. Denham, a mutual friend, near Kearney, Clay county, Missouri, where they were met by the Rev. William James, of the M. E. Church, South, an uncle of Jesse, who proceeded to unite the lovers in the holy bonds of matrimony. The ceremony was performed in the presenceof the Doctor's family and one or two intimate friends. Jesse James had won a wife, and Miss Zee Mimms had consented in her devotion to become an outlaw's bride.
Ostracised by society, proscribed by the law, and hunted by enemies and the officers of justice, Jesse James took his bride, and they journeyed away. Across plains, through valleys, over streams toward "the clime of the sun," the outlaw and his bride sought a place where they could rest, and in each other's society,
"Like some vision oldenOf far other time,When the age was golden,In the young world's prime.Of the future dreaming,Weary of the past,For the present scheming,Happy they, at last."
"Like some vision oldenOf far other time,When the age was golden,In the young world's prime.Of the future dreaming,Weary of the past,For the present scheming,Happy they, at last."
"Like some vision oldenOf far other time,When the age was golden,In the young world's prime.Of the future dreaming,Weary of the past,For the present scheming,Happy they, at last."
"Like some vision olden
Of far other time,
When the age was golden,
In the young world's prime.
Of the future dreaming,
Weary of the past,
For the present scheming,
Happy they, at last."
What cared they for the cold world's scorn? Jesse had provided a cosy home far away on the borders of civilization, where the names of mountains, vales, and springs, and streams, are softened in the musical language of old Castile. But we have heard that even in that distant land the life of the outlaw's wife is not isolated, but, on the contrary, under a name which their conduct has made respectable, they have friends, and she her associates, who are ignorant of the history of the outlaw, and hold her in esteem.
A little child, born sometime in 1876, has come to bless their union by its childish prattle, and the daringoutlaw has been seen with the innocent little one mounted on his shoulder engaged in racing about his ranche. It may be that there are episodes in the life of Jesse James which are like the green oasis in the sun-beaten desert—bright moments when the demon is temporarily vanquished, and the spirit of goodness illuminates the world about him. The man who can love cannot be wholly the slave of vengeance and hate, and even Jesse James may possess traits of mind and qualities of the heart, which point to something higher and better than what is known of him.
CHAPTER XXXIV.A DREAM OF LOVE.
"Fancies, bright as flowers of Eden,Often to his spirit come,Winging through the mind's brief sunlight,Glad as swallows flying home.Love is the true heart's religion!Let us not its power deny.But love on as flowers love sunshine,Or the happy birds the sky."
"Fancies, bright as flowers of Eden,Often to his spirit come,Winging through the mind's brief sunlight,Glad as swallows flying home.Love is the true heart's religion!Let us not its power deny.But love on as flowers love sunshine,Or the happy birds the sky."
"Fancies, bright as flowers of Eden,Often to his spirit come,Winging through the mind's brief sunlight,Glad as swallows flying home.Love is the true heart's religion!Let us not its power deny.But love on as flowers love sunshine,Or the happy birds the sky."
"Fancies, bright as flowers of Eden,
Often to his spirit come,
Winging through the mind's brief sunlight,
Glad as swallows flying home.
Love is the true heart's religion!
Let us not its power deny.
But love on as flowers love sunshine,
Or the happy birds the sky."
Frank James was an outlaw. The smooth-faced, beardless youth who came from the school where he had pondered over the thoughts of Euripides, who had all Greece for a monument, to unite his fortune and venture his fate with Quantrell's band, had become a man, bearded and strong, daring and dangerous to his fellow-men. And the sprightly intellect that had enabled him to lead his class, and the youthful ardor which had conjured up classic forms among "the sacred relics of Almighty Rome," as his mental vision was turned back through the vista of many departed centuries, were now floundering in the muddy pools, and reveling in plots and schemes, sordid and debasing. He was not old in years, and yet he was ripe in experience. Year after year had chased each other down the steeps of time since Frank James became a soldier of thehighways, a participant in the well-planned ambushment, and an executioner in the sudden surprise and fatal catastrophe to the enemy who came into the well-planned ambuscade, and he had witnessed unmoved the agony of victims when shaken by the throes of death.
Could this man, whose hands were red with the crimson stains left there by the blood of victims; whose mind was made harsh and hard by years of struggle against organized society; whose conscience must have become seared by the long contact with the rude, rough elements in human nature; whose heart must have become callous by reason of the cruel scenes through which he had passed—could such a one have tender dreams of love? And yet we might ask, why not? The tender affinities of affection which sprang from psychological causes is one of the most beneficent schemes of God's benevolence, which traverses all space in its flights, and lives the visible token of man's divinity on earth and his hope in heaven. The hand that would thwart them would interrupt the course of laws based on eternal verities.
The fact is, neither time, space, conditions, nor the recognized canons of social life, can induce or hinder the inception, growth, or maturity of a passion, which is acknowledged to be the most potent of all to which man is subject. Why, then, should Frank James not be smitten? In his wanderings he had met many fair ones. And beauty had smiled onhim. But he knew that they were unacquainted with his name and antecedents, and so he refused to be led captive by these, whose love might turn to hate when they knew all.
It is said by those who know Frank James, that he is endowed with a very superior mind; that his education is very good; that he is able to read the classics, and can converse fluently in both the German and Spanish languages. With these accomplishments, he possesses a handsome person and agreeable features. In conversation, he speaks in a soft, low tone of voice, and in private life, among his friends, his manners are pleasing, and well calculated to produce a favorable impression. Frank has been about the world a great deal, and has mingled in refined society not a little. It is his custom to visit New York almost every season, and sometimes he goes to Saratoga, Newport and Long Branch. Friends of Frank assume that he is in many respects a superior man to Jesse; that he has more principle, and that there is far less of the desperado in his composition. He is cool, cautious, shrewd, and more manly than the other, and is not so reckless nor so revengeful in disposition.
Frank James was susceptible to the blandishments of the fair sex in the days of his youth. In Kentucky, he came near being caught in the silken meshes spread by a beautiful young lady of the "Blue Grass" country, who had come to regard him as a hero, whose adventurous career she longed to share.
But fate interposed for her sake, or against him. Frank found it for his interest to take his departure from Kentucky, and it was not convenient for him to return for two whole years. In the interim, another gallant was attracted to her side, and eventually won her affections, and the young lady was married.
A story is told, by persons who claim to know much of Frank James' private affairs, about a love affair between that redoubtable outlaw and an heiress in New York. She was beautiful and accomplished, and when she met the handsome and gentlemanly outlaw, who was not known in that character to her, she conceived an admiration for him which was fast ripening into affection. They rode together through the parks, and were soothed by the music of the waves, when the twilight and shadows fell, as together they strolled along the lonely shore. But circumstances over which she had no control summoned her away from the side of the Western adventurer, and they never met again.
So the years passed away, and Frank James found one being long ago who inspired his heart with tenderer dreams of love than any which had ever come to him before. For years the fair face, with its shadings of glossy brown hair, and eyes of deepest azure, glancing from beneath their long silken lashes, was imprinted on his mind and shrined in his heart. Frank James had met her many times, and no more touching story of woman's devotion has yet been told; than that of the attachment of pretty AnnieRalston for Frank James, the bold border bandit. In time to come, the writers of the romance of the period covered by the career of the James Boys, will recall the name of the fair girl who became the outlaw's bride, and weave around it the choicest flowers of literature.
CHAPTER XXXV.FAIR ANNIE RALSTON, THE OUTLAW'S BRIDE.
"The loves and hopes of youthful hours,Though buried in oblivion deep,Like hidden threads in woven flowers,Upon life's web will start from sleep.And one loved face we sometimes findPictured there with memories rife—A part of that mysterious mindWhich forms the endless warp of life."
"The loves and hopes of youthful hours,Though buried in oblivion deep,Like hidden threads in woven flowers,Upon life's web will start from sleep.And one loved face we sometimes findPictured there with memories rife—A part of that mysterious mindWhich forms the endless warp of life."
"The loves and hopes of youthful hours,Though buried in oblivion deep,Like hidden threads in woven flowers,Upon life's web will start from sleep.And one loved face we sometimes findPictured there with memories rife—A part of that mysterious mindWhich forms the endless warp of life."
"The loves and hopes of youthful hours,
Though buried in oblivion deep,
Like hidden threads in woven flowers,
Upon life's web will start from sleep.
And one loved face we sometimes find
Pictured there with memories rife—
A part of that mysterious mind
Which forms the endless warp of life."
There are many people about the old town of Independence who cherish pleasant memories of fair Annie Ralston. There are many who knew and loved her long ago, who will not soon forget the beautiful face of the outlaw's bride. And long after those who knew her in the halcyon days of her innocent girlhood shall have passed to the quiet repose beneath the sod in "the silent cities of the dead," her story will be repeated. Many a romance has been based on incidents in lives far less dramatic than has fallen to the fortune or the fate of Annie Ralston. The years which have rolled their cycles round to swell the measure of the greedy past, have not been so many that they have swallowed up the memories which cluster around the name of the gentle Annie, and bring sighs to the lips of those who but a few short winters ago conned with her the lessonsof the sages from the dreary pages of text books when they were schoolmates.
People are not all ossified—brain, sense and heart, because God's Commentary on his written Revelation was given first—was handed down from a thousand Sinais, and strewed in green, and golden shadowy lines through all the ages. It yet lives, and is, from under His own hand, above, around, beneath us; and by it we may understand that holy mystery—how God is Love, and Love is God-like. And we feel, and know, that never again to us from out the shade of the years, can ministers of grace or glad ideals come, except through such sweet enchantment. Who, then, will condemn gentle Annie Ralston, the pet of the class, the warm friend, the glad-hearted girl, if she proved at last to be—like all her sisters—human? What circumstances conspired to induce her to become an outlaw's bride? If we could answer all the questions which might be asked concerning the emotions of the heart, the freaks of the mind, and other phenomena of human nature, and the structure of society, then might we be able to answer why fair Annie Ralston became the wife of Frank James, the proscribed enemy of society. But we cannot engage in such an undertaking. Her story is brief, but full of interest.
Before the period of blighting war, which swept like a destructive tornado over the fairest portions of Western Missouri, Annie's father, Mr. Ralston, was a wealthy man, and his home was one of the mostpleasant to be found in the vicinity of Independence. He was a gentleman of culture and refinement, and his wealth gave him leisure to cultivate all the social graces. His hospitality was unbounded, and no man was more esteemed than Samuel Ralston.
Annie was a "wee girl" when the thunder peal of war burst in all its lurid terrors all around and about her. It was no period of sentimental dreaming, and she was early accustomed to see and hear of bloodshed and devastation. She must necessarily have grown familiar with scenes which, under ordinary circumstances, would have excited her terror, and she had learned to look unmoved on the bloody corpse of the battle's victim. But no storm can continue forever; after the convulsion comes quiet; after the night dawns the day—so, at last, the war-cloud rolled away. Then commenced the work of collecting fragments of wrecked fortunes and rebuilding waste places. But some wrecks were complete, and no fragments remained. In a large measure this was the case with the life-barque in which Mr. Ralston sailed down the river of time.
Annie grew with the passing years, and stood, as it were, "with reluctant feet on the boundary where childhood and womanhood meet." The residence of Mr. Ralston was convenient to the Independence Female College, and Annie became a student in that institution. She possessed excellent intellectual gifts, and in her course of study she led her classes. In due time the prescribed course of mental trainingwas completed, and "at commencement," fair Annie carried away the highest honors of her class. She was now a young lady, accomplished in "all the learning of the school." She sang delightfully, and could touch and cause to thrill with deepest harmony, the chords of the harp and other instruments. She was a favorite in society at once.
And Annie Ralston was handsome—almost beautiful. Her complexion was fair and soft, her features regular and pleasing, her eyes were large and azure blue, and these soulful orbs looked out from curtains of long silken lashes of deep brown, that lent a charm to their expression, and her long brown tresses well completed this charming picture. And she possessed a symmetry of form and a gracefulness of carriage which might well attract the admiration of those who knew her.
But there came a time when a shadow fell athwart her pathway, and eclipsed this star in the social firmament. Annie's father had been ardent in his attachment to the Southern cause, and all who had contended in behalf of that cause were ever welcome to the hospitality of his home. He had suffered much from the consequences of the war, and perhaps more from the genial convivialities in which he indulged, and which had extended beyond the bounds of propriety. Frank and Jesse James, with their confederates, became frequent visitors at the Ralston home. People saw them there often, and it was whispered softly at first, butshouted aloud later, that pretty Annie Ralston was an attraction for the outlaws, and received from them, without rebuke, their openly-expressed admiration, and then her social star paled, and finally went out. Frank James became to her a hero worthy of her love—nay, her heart's deep adoration. She waited with impatience his coming, and when he was away, and she thought of the hazards which he might make, and the destruction which might overtake him, she grew faint through apprehension. To her, he was assiduous and gentle and kind, whatever might be his disposition toward others, and she gave her heart to him long before an opportunity was presented to her to yield to him her hand.
One bright day, in 1875, some friends who had known pretty Annie Ralston from the days of her childhood, met her at the Union Depot, Kansas City, with many valises and travelling bags in charge. "Would she go up in town? Could they render her any service?" were questions which were asked. No, at another time she would go up town, there was nothing they could do for her. Soon she was joined by her outlawed lover. Together they took a train and proceeded to Leavenworth, Kansas, where the vows which they had made to each other were renewed and sealed by legal authority, and fair Annie Ralston became the outlaw's bride, and with him she journeyed toward the yellow Southern sea, where the sunlight is warm and the breezes balmy.
It was a sacrifice to thus banish herself from that society in which she was so well fitted to shine as one of its brightest ornaments; it was a trial to surrender up the friends and associates of her girlhood; to bid adieu to those who were near and dear to her; it was heroic to cast herself upon the care of the man she loved. On the altar of her affection, therefore, she placed all the idols of her youth; and in her devotion she proceeded to dig a wide, deep grave in which to bury forever the images which she had cherished. And so Annie Ralston became an outlaw's wife.
CHAPTER XXXVI.A SEVENTEEN THOUSAND DOLLAR HAUL.
It had been some weeks since the people of the West had enjoyed a sensation growing out of the robbery of a train, or the plundering of a bank. Frank and Jesse James, and Cole, and Jim, and Bob Younger, with their merry companions, had been unusually quiet for quite a long season for these restless rovers and adroit plunderers. The gang was increasing in numbers, and was now really formidable. Others as daring had joined themselves to the noted outlaws—the Jameses and the Youngers. Cal Carter from Texas, and Clell Miller, and Bill Chadwell, Charles Pitts, and Sam Bass, and Bill Longley, and the Hardins and the Moores of the Indian Territory and Texas divisions of the clan were frequently with Frank and Jesse James and the Younger Brothers. In the gang, but apparently merely as a subaltern, whose principal employment was to hold the horses of the chief robbers when business required them to dismount, was a young fellow who went by the name of Hobbs Kerry.
Before Otterville, the protestations and denials of the Jameses and the Youngers were accepted by many good citizens, and there were numbers of very honorable persons who believed sincerely that thesemen were sadly slandered. The express robbery at Rocky Cut, near Otterville, served to remove the scales from the eyes of numbers of these good people, and Frank and Jesse James, and the three Youngers were revealed before the public as most dangerous highwaymen.
The principals in the Otterville affair were Frank James, his brother Jesse, Cole Younger, and his brother Bob, Clell Miller, Charlie Pitts, Bill Chadwell and Hobbs Kerry. These men concerted the project in Southwest Missouri, in the lead mining districts. Frequent interviews took place between Frank and Jesse James, and Cole and Bob Younger in regard to the feasibility of the undertaking. The Jameses were the original suggestors of the enterprise, and from what information we have been able to gather, the Youngers did not at first entertain the suggestion favorably; indeed, it was some time before it was finally agreed that the attempt should be made. Then the bandits discussed the route to be taken, and the place to be selected for the scene of this notable robbery, on the iron-highway. All these were settled in due time, and everything was ready to carry out their well-matured plan.
Jesse James was the leader, the others merely acting in concert with him, and taking their places in accordance with his suggestions.
The expedition left the scene of their plotting about the first day of July, 1876.
Before leaving, the band separated into two parties,Jesse and Frank James, Bill Chadwell and Bob Younger, composed one, and Cole Younger, Charlie Pitts, Clell Miller and Hobbs Kerry, made up the other. The journey through the country was made leisurely enough. The two parties travelled by different routes, and had no difficulty in securing lodging places. Sometimes they travelled in the night to make the distance to the house of a friend in good time the next day.
On Sunday, July 3rd, there were four of the bandits at Duval's house. Tuesday a part of the band were in California, and after lingering about the place for a part of the day, they mounted their horses and rode to a house four miles north of the town, where four others of the robbers were stopping. A heavy rain came on that night, and so the robbers stayed nearly all of the day on the 5th, and remained during the night. There is no evidence that the people where they stayed had any knowledge of the character of the persons whom they received under their roof. However, Jesse James and Cole Younger were acquainted with the gentleman, but not under their names.
On the morning of the 6th, the raiders mounted their horses and rode west in pairs. The James Boys travelled together, Clell Miller and Hobbs Kerry rode by each other, Charlie Pitts and Coleman Younger formed a pair, and Bill Chadwell and Bob Younger followed another route in company. These all travelled different roads.
The place of meeting previously agreed upon was a spot about two miles east from the bridge, across the Lamine river, and the time appointed was at 3 o'clock Friday evening, July 8th. There were designated stopping places on all the roads. The Jameses under assumed names were acquainted personally with a number of very respectable people along the route travelled by them, and therefore had no difficulty in obtaining comfortable quarters and receiving a hospitable welcome. And so of the others of that band—"on mischief bent"—they all had good quarters on Thursday night, and as only two travelled together on a road, no suspicion was aroused on account of their presence.
The robbers came by pairs to the rendezvous. They had all assembled by 4 o'clock in the evening. Some of them went without their dinners that day. Here the whole band remained until sundown on the evening of the 8th.
The place selected was at a deep cut known as Rocky Cut, about four miles east of Otterville, in Pettis county, Missouri, on the line of the Missouri Pacific railroad. Three of the band, Bob Younger, Clell Miller and Charlie Pitts, were detailed to capture the watchman at the bridge. Bill Chadwell and Hobbs Kerry, it appears, were assigned the duty of taking care of the horses. A dense piece of timber land adjacent to a field was selected as the place of concealment. The express train bound east was due at that spot about 11 o'clock at night. Therobbers did not arrive at the designated rendezvous until some time after the curtains of night had been drawn over the scene. At a little after 9 o'clock, Younger, Miller and Pitts went down to the bridge, and were hailed by the watchman. They were close upon him, and with drawn revolvers and fearful oaths they commanded him to surrender. The helpless watchman could not do otherwise. They took him in charge and secured his signal lanterns.
"What are you going to do with me?" asked the astonished watchman.
"You keep still," was the reply.
"But you ain't going to hurt me?" he inquired.
"What do we want to hurt you for? We want that money on the train, that's all we care for," was the reply he received.
The whole party walked up the track to the mouth of the cut. It was about half past ten o'clock. A heap of rocks and a number of old cross ties were piled across the rails. Then the cunning brigands sat down quietly in the darkness to await the coming of the train. The horses of the robbers were about fifty yards away ready to be bestridden, and fresh enough to make a long journey if that should be necessary. Crouched there, they were silent as the broken fragments of rocks which lay scattered around them. They had not long to wait. A distant rumbling was heard, like the first low mutterings of thunder before the storm cloud appears. Then it grew louder and shriller like the raging wind. It was the train.
The robbers were not asleep. Charlie Pitts had been detailed to display the red lantern—the danger signal—as the train came thundering around the curve into the cut. He performed his part of the programme well. Precisely at the right spot the train came to a standstill. The engineer had reversed his engine and put on the air brakes.
Instantly the train was boarded by a number of masked men, said to have been twelve at least, all heavily armed. Guards were placed at each end of the cars, and the leader boarded the express car, compelled the messenger under threats of immediate death to open his safe, and then the contents were emptied out into a sack, and the car was thoroughly searched for valuable packages. The result was about $17,000 were secured and carried away for the use and behoof of the robbers.
The whole transaction was completed in less than an hour. The passengers were greatly alarmed during the time of the detention. The robbers stationed at the ends of the cars kept their revolvers bearing upon the passengers, and would not allow them to stir a finger under threats of death. Every moment they expected their turn to be robbed would come. But the robbers appeared to be satisfied with the amount realized from the plundering of the express car, and when they had accomplished that job thoroughly, they released the train, sought their horses and rode away. Several shots were fired during the time the train was standing, for the purpose of keeping the passengers in a state of alarm.
The news was telegraphed from the next station to St. Louis, Sedalia, Kansas City and other points. By this event the whole country was thoroughly excited. The detective forces of St. Louis, Kansas City, Chicago, and even the cities of the Atlantic seaboard were taken by surprise, and aroused to make efforts to capture them. The railroad and express companies offered large rewards, and the Governor of the state took measures to aid in the pursuit of the brigands.
Meanwhile, the men who had created all this furore of excitement rode through the darkness with their treasure bag. When "the first faint blush of dawn streaked the east," the plunderers of the express car at Rocky Cut were twenty miles away and just turning off the main highway into the dim recesses of a large forest.
After travelling more than a mile in the woods, the brigands came to an open space. Here they dismounted. Jesse James had the treasure bag. During the journey, Frank James, Cole Younger and Charlie Pitts had relieved each other alternately in carrying the precious burden. Now they had reached a safe place, and the spoils of the adventure were about to be divided. Frank James acted as master of ceremonies on that occasion. Whether "the divide" was an equal one we are not advised, and perhaps we shall never know. The envelopes were torn from the express packages and the money divided into separate heaps, one of which was given to each of the men who had participated in the exploit
The ceremony of dividing the money having been gone through with, and Jesse James, Cole Younger, Frank James and Charlie Pitts having parceled out the captured jewelry among themselves, the robbers remounted and separated into pairs, each pair selecting the route which pleased them best. In the day time they rode in the woods and along by-paths; in the night they returned to the highways, and were soon secure from pursuit because they went at once among friends who, if they were acquainted with the character of their guests, "never gave away anything."
An outrage of so daring a character was not slow in producing effects. The news had been flashed afar on the lightning's track. The Chief of Police of St. Louis, the marshals and constables, and county sheriffs were aroused to unusual activity. The people everywhere were excited by an event of so sensational a character. A keen pursuit was inaugurated. Watchful eyes and open ears were in every town and hamlet throughout Missouri, and even in adjacent states. This time, it appeared, the robbers would be surely compelled to remain hidden far from the habitations of man.
But secure in their retreats, the shrewd leaders of the raid, Jesse and Frank James, and Cole and Bob Younger and Charlie Pitts, laughed at the efforts of the officers of the law to capture them. They enjoyed reading the newspapers containing accounts of their daring feat, and made merry at what theywere pleased to term "the stupid work of the d—d detectives."
The robbers had one single thing on their minds which gave them some concern. The "cub" robber, Hobbs Kerry, was scarcely shrewd enough to evade capture, and, they feared, not brave enough to withstand the pressure which they knew would be brought to bear upon him to "make him squeal on his associates." What if Kerry should fall into the hands of the hunters? And was it not extremely probable that he would? These were questions which they asked themselves, and in time they framed an answer in the form of another question, "What if he does? We don't know the fellow?"
We have said the passengers and trainmen were passive witnesses of the proceedings of the robbers. But there was one person on the train who was not afraid to resist. That individual was the train newsboy. Johnny, as he was called, had a small pistol, of a cheap grade, with which to defend himself against all enemies, and robbers in particular. Now the opportunity had come to display the latent heroism which he knew he possessed. Johnny did not believe in being plundered, and, though his weapon was not very dangerous, he believed he could do some execution with it; at any rate, he could try. From the car window, where he had taken a position, he opened fire on the marauders. His first shot was ineffective, and the bandits derisively encouraged him to try again, when they discoveredthe youthful appearance and diminutive size of their assailant. Johnny took them at their word, and blazed away again. The robbers were well satisfied and good humored, and they laughed and jeered at the little hero who had exhibited so much courage. They told him he would do for a train-robber himself when he was a little older. Johnny insisted for a time that he knew he had shot one of the robbers badly.
Charlie Pitts, Bill Chadwell and Hobbs Kerry made a forced march to Southwest Missouri. Late Saturday night they forded Grand river. After going a little distance from the river, the three robbers dismounted, threw themselves on the ground, and slept soundly until morning. Here Kerry's horse, which was well broken down, was abandoned. The saddle he hid in the brush in the Grand river bottom. Kerry at this point separated from Pitts and Chadwell, they remaining in the Grand river forests, while he proceeded to Montrose station, on the M., K. & T. railway. He had not long been there when a train bound south came along. He stepped on the car and went down to Fort Scott, Kansas. Finding a clothing store open, he purchased a good suit of clothes, which he donned at once. With valise in hand, he boldly entered a hotel, called for supper, which he partook of, and then proceeded on the train to Parsons, took lodgings there, where he remained until 4 o'clock next morning. From Vinita, to which he went from Parsons, he proceeded toGranby, where he had "a good time with the boys." From Granby to Joplin, and from that place to Granby again, and then away down in the Indian Territory Hobbs Kerry went, without remaining very long at one place. Wherever he went he drank, and whenever he drank whisky he talked, and showed his money and boasted. He was liberal with the boys, had money for the faro dealer, and was for the time "a hale fellow well met" with all. But the eyes that were looking, and the ears that were listening, putting this and that together by an act of cogitation, concluded that Hobbs Kerry knew about the Rocky Cut business.
It was not a mistake. The detectives "pulled" Kerry, and when he had time to reflect, he unfolded his mind, and told of his friends and their ride at night. He proved to be "a good peacher," as the police say, and whatever may be the slight inconsistencies of his narrative of the Otterville affair, the events at Northfield, Minnesota, a few months later, confirm the truthfulness of Hobbs Kerry's story in all the main particulars.
Of course the James Boys and their friends were swift to denounce Hobbs Kerry as a fraud, and his stories of the midnight ride and the flaring of the "danger signal" before the train, as pure fabrications of a diseased or wicked brain.
Meanwhile, the Jameses and Youngers had not gone far away. The former found friends and a safe retreat in the eastern part of Jackson county, andthe latter retired to St. Clair county, where they rested in contentment for a season. The Jameses have friends yet in a certain neighborhood in that section of Jackson county—men and women—who, despite their known character, and the edict of outlawry against them, would receive them into their houses and treat them not only with ordinary hospitality, but with marked consideration.