Chapter X

THE KIDNAPING OF THE TRAPPERS JONES AND WALKER--EYE-WITNESSES OF THE
MURDER OF CHAMPION AND RAY

Believing that Benjamin Jones and Wm. W. Walker were the only witnesses of the killing of Champion and Ray and the burning of Nolan’s K. C. ranch house, prudence dictated the removal of these men from the reach of the prosecuting citizens, and the supreme importance of the work demanded that the conditions of their removal be made liberal and surrounded by no pledges as to the methods to be employed. The injunction was simply: “Get rid of the lying bastards who would swear our lives away.” Accordingly, F. H. Harvey, a lawyer of Douglas, Wyoming, and O. P. Witt, a livery stable keeper of the same place, were employed by the cattlemen, who were backing the invaders, to relieve the country of the presence of these two men at any cost.

Jones and Walker were the two men who had stayed all night at the K. C., April 8th, and who had been captured by the mob on the morning of the 9th, as detailed in a former chapter. After the burning of the house and the shooting of Champion, the two men had been released with the injunction to go south and keep marching, but to hold their tongues as to what they had seen and heard, if they expected to live long and be happy. They came south, reaching Casper after some days. Finding that public sentiment was wholly against the murderers, they told the story of the cowardly attack and brutal murders of April 9th, substantially as related in these pages. This “Trappers’ story,” finding its way to the ears of the white caps, opened their eyes to the necessity of getting rid of the witnesses and caused the employment of the kidnapers above mentioned.

The details of the spiriting away of these important witnesses has been told by the deputy sheriff of Converse county, who was on the ground and familiar with all the facts. His statement is therefore given here in full and believed to be in strict conformity to the facts. There is ample corroborating testimony, however, so that the case does not rest on Colonel Kimball’s evidence, which is as follows:

“As is well known, two trappers, Ben Jones and Wm. W. Walker, witnessed the brutal murders of Champion and Ray. After the killing and burning, Wolcott released them and told them to ‘go south and keep going.’ They went to Casper. As is well known, Governor Barber refused to deliver the murderers to the proper authorities of Johnson county, but kept them at Fort Russell under military protection, evidently with the intention of turning them loose without trial or punishment. As Sheriff Angus could not arrest them, of course no subpoenas could be issued for or served on said witnesses, as they could not be cited to appear at any particular time or place to testify. Consequently, said witnesses were free to go when and where they pleased.

“Sheriff Campbell was absent at Washington, and Under Sheriff Kimball, the writer hereof, caught on to the fact that the cattlemen were about to attempt to get said witnesses out of the way, even if they had to kill them, and we wrote both Sheriff Angus of Johnson county and Sheriff Rice of Natrona county to be on their guard. The latter began to investigate, and learned that a citizen of Casper had been offered $200 in cash to get Jones and Walker out of town anywhere so that the stockmen could get hold of them. Sheriff Rice informed Jones and Walker of their danger, and they were badly frightened. Casper has no jail or place of safety where they could stay, so Sheriff Rice wired Sheriff Angus of the danger and advised him to take them to Buffalo. At 2:35 p.m. of May 20th we received the following dispatch:

“‘Buffalo, Wyo., May 20.

“‘To E. H. Kimball, Douglas, Wyo.:

“‘There are two witnesses at Casper in danger of white caps. Have
them brought to Douglas and keep safe, and present bill to county.
Will write you particulars.

“‘W. G. ANGUS.’

“By some means F. H. Harvey knew the contents of that dispatch before we did, and when we took the train for Casper, two hours later, he went along. We went to Casper and saw Sheriff Rice. We went to the witnesses and showed them the dispatch. We told them frankly that they were not prisoners; that we had neither subpoena nor warrant for them, and that they did not have to come to Douglas unless they wanted to. They seemed anxious to come. In consultation with Sheriff Rice it was agreed that they should come here, be given arms to defend themselves, and be allowed to sleep in the sheriff’s office in the front part of the jail until such time as Sheriff Angus should come or send for them.

“The next morning we purchased tickets for them and took them to Douglas in the express car on the regular train. Harvey was also in the passenger coach. At Glenrock, Senator Carey’s pet ‘stock inspector,’ Higley, took the train and walked into the express car. We cautioned the men to look out for him. He went out, but soon came back and attempted to speak to Jones. Messenger Bennett told him to get out of the car and stay out, and he went. We then became satisfied that Harvey had been employed by the stockmen to either have the witnesses killed or run out of the country, and told them so. Arriving here we gave them rooms in the sheriff’s office and each a six-shooter to defend himself. We cautioned them to be careful who they talked to, and under no circumstances to go upon the streets after dark. But Harvey or some of his gang managed to interview Walker during the daytime and got him in a notion of leaving. He told the old man Jones about it, but the latter objected. He wanted to go to Johnson county to testify against the murderers. One night we had to go to Inez and Glenrock on official business. We left a man asleep in the office with Walker and Jones, not to guard them, but to protect them in case they were attacked. That evening O. P. Witt got Walker, the young man, to take a drink of whiskey. That settled it. Walker soon got pretty full, and when night came he refused to go to bed. As he could not be persuaded, Jones said he would walk him back and forth in front of the office and sober him up.

“Now, here is Jones’ story as told us in Lawyer Fisher’s office, in Chadron, in the presence of four other witnesses: He said that they walked about until near midnight. Mr. Walker insisted upon leaving. He (Jones) objected. Walker said Harvey and Witt had offered them each a horse and saddle and $1,000 if they would leave the country and not testify against the cattlemen, and he was in favor of going. Harvey and Witt came along and took them over to old man Morton’s place to talk it over. There they met altogether some eight or ten men, who insisted upon their going. The names of most of them are known and will be given during the coming political campaign. Some of them live here in Douglas. Jones says that they parleyed there for an hour. The gang finally offered them each a horse and saddle and $2,700 cash when they got east of Grand Island, Nebraska. Jones wanted the money then. He told them that he thought that they were just trying to get them out in the country to kill them, and that he would not go with such a gang. He finally told them that there were no charges against him; that he could go when and where he pleased; and that if they would give him a horse and $500 then and there he would leave the country all alone and they had leave to kill him if he ever returned to testify against the Wolcott gang. They refused to do that. One of the gang then told him that he and Walker had got to leave or they would kill them right then and there. Jones said that he would go, provided only one man went along with them, and it was then arranged that Witt should accompany them to Harrison, Neb. Harvey was to take the train and meet them there that evening, and the four would go together to Grand Island, where they were to be paid $2,700 each and given tickets to New Mexico. Jones said it was intended by the gang that it would leave here early in the evening, but it was about 1 o’clock in the morning when three saddled horses were brought out of Morton’s stable and he was told to mount a blue roan. Jones said he weakened when he saw the murderous-looking gang standing about, and he flatly refused to go, and said he was going to the sheriff’s office and go to bed. Instantly guns were drawn and one of the stockmen said: ‘Get on to that horse, you s-- of a b-- or I will kill you! We’ve stood enough of your d--d foolishness.’ Jones said he thought it meant death anyway, so he mounted the old man Morton’s black horse that had been loaned to the gang for the occasion. Walker mounted a red roan and Witt the blue roan, and the three pulled out through a back alley and struck east at a rattling pace.

“Jones says they rode upon a keen gallop for perhaps 20 miles, when Witt suddenly stopped and dismounted. He took a lariat from his saddle, threw it over the telegraph wire and pulled it down. He took a pair of wire-cutters from his pocket and cut the wire. Following along to the next post he cut the wire again as high as he could reach. Taking one end of the wire he mounted his horse and dragged the detached piece a long distance and dropped it in the sagebrush. He says that when they left the sheriff’s office at dark they each put a revolver in their pocket, but with no intention of stealing them. Witt did not know that they were armed. After riding several miles after cutting the wire Witt suddenly stopped and said he was lost. Jones said the road was perfectly plain, but Witt insisted that he did not know which way they were going. Witt told them to remain where they were, and he rode off a few rods and commenced lighting matches, one after another. They could see the tops of trees near by. Jones whispered to Walker that Witt was giving a signal and that assassins were probably concealed near there to kill them. Drawing their revolvers, they rode up to Witt and demanded to know what he was doing. He said he was lost and was lighting matches to look at his compass. They knew he had no compass and ordered him to get back into the road. Jones took the lead, Walker following Witt. Jones had the best horse, and he says that from that time until daylight they hit only the high places in the road. They stopped at a ranch to get something to eat, and the lady asked them if they met any strangers going west during the night, stating that about a dozen armed horsemen went past there just before dark. Jones says he is positive that it was the intention of the stockmen to have them murdered there where Witt gave the signal, and that their leaving Douglas late in the night was all that saved them.

“When near the Node ranch Witt’s horse gave out. He told them to ride on to Harrison. They asked what they should do with the horses. Witt told them to ride into a gulch a mile or so from town, hide the saddles and shoot the horses. After leaving Witt they consulted what best to do. They had but 50 cents between them. Jones wanted to strike across the country. Walker insisted on going to Harrison and taking the train. When near Harrison they hid their saddles and turned their horses loose, but did not shoot them. When they boarded the train at Harrison they were paralyzed with fright to see that Harvey and Witt had a gang of six or seven with them that had got on the train somewhere along the line. They ordered them to take a seat among them in the rear end of the rear car. Jones did not know them, but is sure that they were the gang that intended to kill them the night before. Jones said he expected to be taken from the train and killed at some station, or killed and thrown from the train while it was in motion. It has since been learned that Bill McCann, a miner at Glenrock, Gibson, Wellman, who was since killed in Johnson county, and probably Craig, were among the gang on the train assisting Harvey. Jones says when they arrived at Crawford it was very dark, and before the train fairly stopped McCann and others rushed Walker out of the front end of the car, and Harvey, Witt and one or two others grabbed him and jumped from the rear platform. He did not know where they were, or that they were near a station, and thought they were going to kill him then and there. He drew his gun and told them to stand back or he would shoot. The cowards were afraid to seize him and were trying to reason with him. Marshal Morrison was on hand to arrest Jones and Walker in obedience to a telegram from here. He did not know them, but the gun play and loud talk at the rear end of the train attracted his attention. He demanded to know what the trouble was about. ‘They are trying to kill me!’ yelled Jones. ‘No, we are not,’ replied Harvey; ‘this old man is crazy and we are taking him east to an asylum. I wish you would help us take him over to the B. & M. train.’ ‘It’s a lie! I’m not crazy!’ cried the poor old man; ‘they are trying to kill me.’ Just then Witt chirped in: ‘This man is my uncle and we are taking him to his home in the East. Come, uncle,’ said he, turning to Jones, ‘don’t act that way; please don’t, uncle.’ ‘I’m not your uncle!’ protested Jones. ‘Give me that gun,’ said Morrison. ‘Who are you?’ said the poor old man. ‘I’m the city marshal here,’ he replied. ‘Then, I demand your protection,’ said Jones; ‘I am a witness against the men who killed Champion and Ray up in Johnson county, and these are cattlemen who are trying to kill me to keep me from testifying against them. They have just killed my partner back there.’ Instantly the marshal and an assistant put the handcuffs on Jones and Witt and started for the jail. On the way Jones described his partner, whom he supposed had just been killed. The marshal sent Jim Haguewood over to the B. & M. depot, where he nabbed Walker. McCann had just bought two tickets for Grand Island, and he and Walker were about to board the train. Walker was taken up and jailed.

“Witt and the two witnesses left Douglas about 1 o’clock Thursday morning. We returned from Glenrock about 1 in the afternoon, and at once set about to discover what had become of them. We had no legal process for holding or detaining them, and we could not have stopped them had they taken the train in broad daylight, but we were afraid they had been killed. We soon learned that Witt had bought and paid cash for two horses the night before, and that he was also missing. We sent a man to interview his partner, Morton, and his answers were so evasive and misleading as to confirm suspicions. We also learned the telegraph wire had been cut near Lost Springs. We then knew well enough that Witt had been paid to run them out of the country, but we had no legal right to stop them. On going to the sheriff’s office a little later we discovered that they had taken two revolvers, so we procured warrants and wired Marshal Morrison to arrest them at Crawford, rightly surmising that they would ride east and then take the train. That night we got a dispatch from Marshal Morrison that he had them.

“The next day we took the train for Crawford, where we arrived a few minutes after a special train had taken Morrison and his prisoners to Chadron on a writ of habeas corpus.

“County Judge Ballard, after hearing the habeas corpus case, released the prisoners. Deputy United States Marshal Hepfinger had been brought up from Omaha and, armed with a warrant for the arrest of Jones and Walker on the charge of selling liquor to Indians, the moment the word ‘released’ escaped the lips of the judge he pounced upon the men like a beast of prey, handcuffed them together and rushed them off to a special train, standing at the depot, and in a moment they were moving rapidly for Omaha. Attorney Harvey had secured the warrants from United States Commissioner Darrington on complaint of Witt. Sheriff Dahlman also had warrants for the arrest of the trappers, issued on complaint of Deputy Sheriff Kimball, charging the theft of two pistols, the object being to get the witnesses back into Wyoming and hold them to testify in the cattlemen’s cases. Harvey and Witt took the special train for Omaha.”

The last chapter in this shameful drama is told in a press dispatch from Omaha, which is here reproduced:

“Three bedraggled, unkempt and altogether rough-looking men, two of them handcuffed together, and all of them with terror depicted on every feature, huddled in a bunch at the heels of Deputy United States Marshal Hepfinger about 5:30 o’clock last evening as he entered the private office of Marshal Slaughter in the Federal building.

“Little attention had been attracted by the party as it moved hurriedly down the long corridor, for the reason that at that hour there were few to notice them. One was Witt, the liveryman, and the two handcuffed together were Jones and Walker. The bracelets were removed as soon as they were safely in the marshal’s office and the doors were closed behind them.

“Each man carried a heavy, yellow oilskin coat, and none of the prisoners gave evidence of having enjoyed a moment’s rest or peace of mind in many a day. They were gaunt and hollow-eyed, and glanced suspiciously at every one and into every corner.

“Their arrival disturbed the siesta of United States Judge Dundy, who, although it was long past his usual time of leaving the building, had stretched himself on the lounge in Marshal Slaughter’s office, as if he had an appointment and fully meant to keep it.

“When the prisoners entered the judge slipped across the corridor into his own private office and was closeted with Attorney Frank Ransom, who had likewise been haunting the building for some time, apparently in search of a friend who came not.

“Two other attorneys, comparative strangers in town, but who were afterward identified as F. H. Harvey, of Douglas, and H. Donzleman, of Cheyenne, were also flitting about from one office to another and in a very few minutes the entire party, with Prosecuting Attorney Baker, assembled in the office of the District Court and the prisoners were arraigned on the charge of selling liquor to the Indians.

“They waived examination and their bond was fixed at $200 each, for which their personal recognizance was accepted. Another adjournment to the office of the marshal followed in order that the men might gather up their belongings, and they then left the building piloted by Attorney Donzleman and Deputy Hepfinger. Marshal Slaughter professed ignorance as to their destination, saying he supposed they were going to supper and that they had also asked where they could get new suits of clothes.

“He insisted that he knew nothing about the case, except what he had read in the newspapers, and he did not even know that Deputy Hepfinger was in Chadron until that morning when he received a telegram from him stating that the deputy had arrested his men and would be in that night. They had been arraigned and released on bail, and further than that he was ignorant as a dove.

“Deputy Hepfinger could not find time to say a word and Deputy Jackson was but little different. He simply admitted that he was in Crawford Friday and saw the men arrested. He had just sort of happened around to help Hepfinger bring them in, but neither deputy had gone out on that particular business. The marshal ‘supposed’ that Hepfinger had merely been following orders in the way of serving warrants issued by the United States commissioner in whatever part of the state he might happen to be.

“The last move in the game was made late tonight (Tuesday).

“Attorneys Donzleman and Ransom were busy until 8:30 o’clock filling obscure corners in the rotunda of the Millard, and when a reporter approached the former shortly after that time the bewhiskered lawyer insisted that the whole trouble up in the cattle country had been exaggerated.

“But he could not stop to talk. He was going out of the city and would be back in a couple of days, when he would write a book and do several other things. Right now, however, he must catch his train, so good-bye.

“He dodged around a little and finally entered a closed carriage waiting at the door. It was not a street hack, but a carriage ordered from the stable for the occasion, and away Mr. Donzleman went.

“A few minutes afterward the same carriage dashed around a corner some blocks away and there were four inside and another on the seat with the driver. Inside were Mr. Donzleman and the erstwhile prisoners, Jones, Walker and Witt, and the passenger on the box was the busy Mr. Hepfinger.

“They drove straight to the United States Marshal’s office, which the deputy entered, and after a short wait he resumed his place and then began the long, rapid drive to West Side Station, where the Missouri Pacific night express was boarded and the fugitives were whirled away to the southward.”

It would, perhaps, be unjust to accuse Judge Dundy of knowingly aiding a conspiracy to defeat the ends of justice in kidnaping witnesses from a distant state, but the honest reader cannot escape the conviction that the United States marshal’s office was in criminal collusion with the conspirators. The cattlemen’s attorney, Donzleman, was in Omaha, in consultation with the marshal. A deputy had been sent to Chadron to serve false papers; that is, warrants issued on a false charge; the attorney and the marshal, having telegraphic information that the witnesses had been arrested and were on a special train, hung about the office awaiting their arrival; the marshal or the attorney, or both, asked Judge Dundy to remain in the office after court hours to hear an important case, and when the prisoners arrived all things were in readiness to at once proceed to business, hear the case and turn the accused loose. Did they have their liberty? Attorney Donzleman and Deputy Marshal Hepfinger took them in charge and the deputy stayed with them until they were placed on the train and sent out of the country. The stop at the marshal’s office while on the way to the train further implicates that officer, and the public will always hold him as a party to the damnable job.