“What kind of court would sentence a man to hang for stealing? And what kind of sheriff would leave him hanging?”
The two men laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“There ain’t no court, mister. There’s only the sheriff.”
“So in addition to being sheriff, this man Plummer is judge, jury, and hangman?”
“That’s right.”
“I can see right now it pays not to get into trouble around here.”
The two men laughed. “Remember that, mister, and you might stay alive. Now, get on about your business and leave this be. This ain’t none of your concern.”
Nodding, James rode on toward town. He felt an itching in his back and knew that the rifle was still pointed at him. It took every ounce of strength to resist breaking into a gallop, but he was certain that if he did, the man with the rifle would shoot.
As 1862 began there was only a handful of white men, and almost no white women or children, in the area which had been, in succession, a part of the Louisiana, Missouri, then Dakota territories. Only later would it become Montana.
Few people had even heard the word Montana, and fewer still had any interest in the place until a man named John White discovered a rich placer deposit on Grasshopper Creek.
White wasn’t the first to discover gold in Montana. There was some placer mining on Gold Creek near Hell’s Gate (later renamed Mis soula), where James and Granville Stuart had been panning gold earlier in the year. Then, M.H. Lott and his party discovered gold in the Big Hole River drainage, just over the hill from Grasshopper Creek.
Ironically, John White was looking for Lott when he stopped to pan dirt on the Grasshopper and made the biggest strike of all. It was his find that brought thousands of gold seekers from all over America. John White’s discovery also led to the founding of the town of Bannack. Bannack would go on to become the first capital of the newly created territory of Montana.
When James rode into Bannack the first time, he saw a boomtown of over three thousand people, all of whom had been drawn by the hope of striking it rich. Not everyone who came to Bannack planned to get their gold out of the ground. Many came to make their fortune from those who got their gold by digging, thus the town was fully developed with saloons, restaurants, stores, and two hotels.
Unlike two decades earlier when it took treasure seekers from three to six months to reach the goldfields of California, Bannack could be reached by a combination of train, boat, and coach, in just over three weeks from almost any city in the East. That accessibility contributed to the boom and created a ready market for the Golden Calf Cattle Company’s herd.
As soon as it was known that James was bringing in a herd of cattle to sell, he had three contractors bidding for his business. The only disappointment was the fact that the cows brought a little less than he had thought. He left Texas thinking he could make fifty dollars a head, but the offers ranged from twenty-nine to thirty-seven dollars.
James sold for thirty-four dollars a head. That wasn’t the highest offer, but it was an offer of cash, whereas the others wanted to pay by bank draft, redeemable in St. Louis. James had no intention of going to St. Louis for his money.
Returning to the herd, James told the others what he had learned, and explained the deal he had made.
“I think you shoulda taken the thirty-seven dollars,” Luke Scattergood said. “I mean, thirty-seven dollars is better than thirty-four. Even I know that.”
“Yes, but if we take the thirty-four dollars, we can leave here with cash in hand,” James said. “The other deal would require us to go to St. Louis for the money. If the money was really there, and if we could get there. Don’t forget, there is a war going on.”
“I think you did the right thing,” Bob said. Billy quickly agreed, as did Duke.
“I think it was the right thing as well,” Revelation said.
“Well, of course you would think that. You’re stuck on him,” Luke said.
“But she’s right,” Matthew said. “Cash in hand is better than a bank draft in some far-off place.”
Reluctantly, Luke accepted the fact that the deal was made.
Everyone turned out to watch as James and the others drove their herd down Main Street to the cattle pens at the other end of town. There was excitement in the air, as people contemplated adding roast beef and beefsteak to what had become a monotonous menu of pork, chicken, and wild game. The townspeople were also fascinated with the idea that this herd had been driven all the way up from Texas, along the Bozeman Trail, right through the heart of hostile Indian territory.
As the cattle were driven into the pens, Milton Poindexter, the contractor who bought the herd, and James kept a head count. They did this by putting a knot in a strip of rawhide for every tenth cow. There were several rawhide strips, and each strip had ten knots. The final tally was 2,976 head. After the count was made, Poindexter went to the bank with James to withdraw the money.
“The current price of gold is fifty dollars an ounce,” the banker explained to James. “You can accept payment in gold or specie.”
“Specie?”
“Paper money,” the banker said. “Govern ment greenbacks. If I were you, I would take it in specie, as it will be much easier to handle than gold.”
James thought about it for a moment. Greenbacks would be easier, but given the volatility of the war, and the fact that all Union money in Texas had been exchanged for Confederate dollars, he decided the most stable currency would be gold.
“I think I’ll take it in gold.”
“Very well, sir. It’ll take a few moments to weigh and fill your sacks.”
The banker began weighing gold dust, then pouring the measured dust into sacks, each sack containing one hundred ounces.
“That’s a lot of gold dust,” James said, looking at the sacks that were beginning to stack up.
“It’s going to come to 125 pounds,” the banker said. “Gold dust is heavy.”
“Yes, I know it is.”
The banker chuckled. “That’s probably a pretty good thing, though. Most robbers steal because they are too lazy to work. But if a robber takes gold he is going to have to work because it is so heavy. Still, there is always that chance,” the banker said. “That being the case, you might want to leave it on deposit with the bank.”
“Perhaps I will,” James said. “But first I need to take it to my partners so we can divide it up.”
As the banker continued to fill the sacks, James walked over to talk to Poindexter.
“As I was coming into town, I saw a man hanging from a tree,” James said. “I started to cut him down, but two men stopped me.”
James thought he saw an expression of fear dart across the contractor’s face. Poindexter’s eyes narrowed, and he nervously ran his hand through his hair, but he said nothing.
“You wouldn’t happen to know who it was, would you?”
“Who?”
“The dead man I just told you about. Do you know who it was?”
“His name was Gillis. Logan Gillis,” Poindexter said.
“Well, Logan Gillis paid dearly for stealing. Normally I don’t have any sympathy for a thief, but I figure he deserved better than that.”
“Gillis wasn’t a thief,” Poindexter said.
“That’s what the sign said.”
“Our—
“Henry Plummer?”
Again, Poindexter looked nervous. “Do you know Henry Plummer?”
“No. But the sign bore his name. Also the two men who stopped me said they were deputies.”
The beef contractor made a scoffing sound. “Those men aren’t deputies, because Plummer is no more a
