It was not a good time to leave for Sun River. The flood season was just reaching its peak and the river crossing would be treacherous if not impossible. Henry Plummer was needed in Bannack, both to show his constituents that he intended to take his job seriously, and to give the growth taking place there a sense of direction. But Plummer showed a quite typical trait. He was a man of extreme patience, up to a point; then his repressed impatience exploded. He had obtained sufficient gold stakes to provide a more than comfortable living, and his claims in the Blue Wing area showed promise of silver. The delay in returning for Electa had been due to waiting for the sheriff's position, the badge of respectability he guessed the Vails would require, especially after hearing he had killed Cleveland.
Displaying his basic impatience with life, Plummer did not stay in Bannack as long as he should have after the election. His idea of an orderly world was one in which a person had peace of mind and was not bothered by anyone else. He liked setting the world in order and spent most of his time at it, in the calm, easy way he had of going about his job without offending others. As Langford observed, "he was quiet and modest, free from swagger."[48] Quiet and free from swagger, yes, but hardly modest, at least not in the sense of placing a moderate estimate on his own abilities and worth. He knew himself and was aware of his own skills and competencies, his quietness and reserve coming from his high degree of self-confidence. He expected, and eventually demanded, that others share the opinion he held of himself. Both Jack Cleveland and Hank Crawford had required his "demanding."
Though Plummer had felt a little contempt at Crawford's bungling of his official assignments, tasks Plummer could have handled quickly and efficiently, he was in general tolerant of inefficiency in others. But he would not allow Crawford to damage his reputation by spreading rumors about his personal life -- not while he was engaged to Electa. All else failing with Crawford, Plummer had invited him to test who was the better man with fists. When Crawford refused, he had suggested pistols, offering, "You may draw it and cock it, and I'll not go for mine until you have done so, and uttered the word to fire." These were words spoken by a man who had confidence in his own skills.
When Crawford again refused, Plummer's patience ran out. "Pull your pistol and fight me like a man, or I'll give you but two hours to live, and then I'll shoot you down like a dog." At the end of the two hours the confrontation at Peabody's took place.[49] Plummer had followed the same steps with both Crawford and Cleveland. He refused to waste his time holding ill-will and could not tolerate the threat to his own peace of mind when a grudge was festering against him. The Christian precept of not letting the sun set on one's wrath may have been impressed on him in childhood, or he may have acquired the peacemaking habit in the camp saloons. Whatever its source, he had become a professional at mending broken fences. If a person was not perceptive enough to see his good faith, he tried friendly persuasion for an incredibly long period, and then with the hard core finally had to issue a challenge, one in which he usually came out on top. Cleveland had trailed Plummer for weeks, harassing him, and taking advantage of his patience and near obsession for turning enemies into friends. Though Cleveland wanted to kill Plummer and was only holding off because Plummer was a better shot, he did not have the insight to realize Plummer's patience was wearing thin, not until Plummer informed him, in his characteristic terse understatement, "I'm tired of this."
Crawford was playing the same game, afraid of a confrontation and waiting for a safe way to get even. He first persuaded the miners' court to try Plummer for murder. When that did not work, he tried to get Phleger to do the job for him, and finally ended up shooting Plummer from behind. But Crawford had only appeared to get the better of the contest; actually it was Plummer who got what he wanted -- the job of sheriff. And he was anxious to get started at it, to show what he could do with the position, but he also wanted Electa and was tired of waiting. He had been waiting all winter. In spite of high waters, he was confident he would find a way to cross the Sun River when he came to it.
The winter of 1862-63 had not been any easier at the government farm than in Bannack. Salt and spices needed to make food more palatable had dwindled to nothing and had to be omitted from dishes served. There was no appeal to Fort Benton, where supplies had also been exhausted by a much larger influx of newcomers than had been expected. Though newcomers survived the difficult winter on hopes of growing rich in the spring, the Vails had no such anticipation, having nothing to look forward to other than a recurrence of seasons like the one just spent. Not that they had lost faith in their project; they had not accepted it because they thought it would be easy.
In the months after Plummer left the farm, Martha grew concerned about his bad reputation and tried to persuade her younger sister to give up the idea of marrying him. But Electa stood firm. She was, as Thompson recognized, "infatuated," but it was more than that. Her waiting so long to choose a husband was partly due to a realization of her own worth, a worth that was confirmed by Plummer's strong desire for her. For all his self-confidence and strength, he needed her to give meaning to his life. Electa would not let Martha keep her from the happiness she saw ahead, but it was difficult to stand up to an older sister on whom she had been dependent since childhood and whose approval she had constantly sought. Martha was frustrated at not having her usual upper hand; and the struggle between the sisters, painful because of their love for each other, had reached a stalemate. Francis Thompson gives a fair account of events taking place at the farm on his return. Though he wrote many years later, he relied on diaries kept at the time, rarely letting his personal bias color the narrative.[50]
When Thompson reached the crossing, the Sun River was high with runoff from the mountains and unsafe for fording. He waited cautiously for several days on the bank opposite the farm. Seeing James Vail, he called to him, and Vail recognized him and went to the house to report his arrival to Martha, Electa, and Joseph Swift. Martha and Electa agreed the opinion of an impartial friend might solve their dilemma, and Electa promised she would accept Thompson's advice about her marriage plans.
Less than an hour after Thompson was finally able to ford the river, Martha cornered him, begging him to help settle the sisters' difference. Thompson listened to Martha's point of view first. She was a "most devoted Christian woman," he wrote, "and loved her sister most tenderly and felt that she was responsible for her future, as would a mother for her daughter."[51]
Thompson already shared Martha's doubts. On the trail, he had heard from men in a pack train about a young desperado named Henry Plummer, who was living in Bannack. The men said Plummer had killed a man in California, escaped from the state prison, killing a pursuing officer in the process, and then fled to Washington Territory, where he got in more difficulties and had to flee across the mountains to Fort Benton for a quick retreat down the Missouri River. Finding no boatman willing to risk being killed by Indians while running the river, he had gone to Bannack. The story Thompson had heard was a little different from the one Electa had heard from Plummer, but similar enough to cause Martha and Thompson grave concern.
From Joseph Swift, Thompson heard the same side of the argument he expected Electa to present. It was obvious to him how thoroughly Swift had been won over by Plummer during the months of the Indian scare. Though touched by Swift's love and admiration for Plummer, Thompson went to his interview with Electa filled with the same anxieties as Martha.
He began by warning Electa to reconsider, but nothing he could say seemed to sway her. Though she was shy, she expressed her feelings with a surprising candor and openness. "She said that she loved Mr. Plummer," Thompson wrote, "that she knew that he loved her, that she had the utmost faith in him, that the terrible stories of him were told by men not worthy of belief; that she could never be happy unless she married him."[52]
Realizing Electa shared the religious convictions of her sister, Thompson broke some news to her she had not yet heard. He told her the man she loved had killed Jack Cleveland just a few weeks after leaving the farm. Electa, remembering that Cleveland had also loved her, was shaken at his words and Thompson pursued his advantage by advising her that even if Plummer was justified in killing Cleveland, in the territory "it was generally the case that a man who killed another, died a like death."
His prediction of an ominous fate awaiting her future husband troubled Electa greatly, and Thompson capitalized on her distress by suggesting she take more time to make her decision. She should take the steamer from Fort Benton to the States, he said, and if by autumn she still loved Plummer, and he still loved her, then he could join her there and they could be married. Electa had promised to accept his arbitration, but instead, she replied only that she would consider his idea.
The Vails were anxiously waiting for the arrival of the Shreveport, the steamer Electa could take, because it would be carrying their employer, Reverend Reed, with their year's salary and the much-needed supplies. Thompson, who was awaiting the same ship to bring goods ordered for a general merchandise store he planned to open, was invited to stay at the farm until the Shreveport docked. Though the river was high, the spring season had been so dry that there was scarcely a blade of green grass in the entire valley. Provisions at the farm were scarce; the supply of sugar had run out, and since the cows had gone dry for lack of grass, there was no milk, cream, or butter. While on a hunting trip, Iron, the faithful Indian who had provided the farm with meat, had been killed by Bannocks, who had also stolen horses, saddles, blankets, and a gun belonging to the farm. The family was reduced to a diet of the game meat Vail and Thompson could provide -- sometimes nothing more than prairie dogs -- and corn meal ground in a hand mill. Though monotonous, there were a variety of ways to serve up the coarse meal: mush, johnnycakes, muffins, or Indian pudding.
Despite food shortages, the men took time out from hunting to go with the women and children for drives across the dry plains, and there was an unusual amount of activity at the farm. Travelers on the way to meet the overdue Shreveport stopped in daily, and the Indians frequently presented minor problems that had to be dealt with. On one such occasion, the Vails were visited by an Indian and his wife, who reported they were searching for a second wife who had run away with another man. The husband wanted to find her so he could punish her according to the law prescribed by his people. He had a choice of either killing her or cutting off her ears and nose and letting her live. Not long after the couple had left, the second wife walked in alone. Martha warned her of her danger, and after eating a few bites of food, the frightened Indian woman hurried off toward the safety of the mountains. Despite their own straits, Martha provided her with a ration of food to carry along as well as a blanket.
Meanwhile, Electa was still trying to reach a decision about marrying Plummer, and time was growing short since the steamer might arrive at any moment. Thompson said it was a long time before she finally gave in, agreeing to delay the wedding until fall. Martha was relieved when Electa half-heartedly began gathering her things together for the trip home.
On the first day of June, there appeared at the river crossing a priest from St. Peter's Mission, established by the Jesuits to serve the Blackfeet and located just ten miles off of the road between Sun River and Little Prickly Pear Creek. Like Thompson, the priest was leery of attempting to ford the roily waters, but not wanting to wait, he worked up his courage and spurred his horse forward. In midstream he was suddenly swept from his mount and dragged under by a strong current, nearly drowning before he finally made it to shore. His horse wisely swam back to the other side.
The next day, with Electa still planning to leave on the steamer, Plummer reached Sun crossing, and not waiting for safer waters, quickly crossed to the fortified farm. He had come to keep his promise to marry Electa, unaware she had had a change of heart.
Plummer was not at all what Thompson had been expecting, but "a good looking young man of twenty-seven, polite, and of good address," Thompson confided in his diary. He had "a straight nose and well-shaped chin" and "a well-cut mouth, indicating decision, firmness, and intelligence." His light gray eyes "seemed to be gazing through you." Thompson, impressed by Plummer's "dignity" and "brilliant conversation," wrote, "When I saw him I could but wonder if this could be the young desperado whom people so much feared." He made another important observation; Plummer "seemed devoted to Miss Bryan."[53]
On the very day of the arrival, Thompson noted that all of his "well intended advice was thrown to the wind and it was announced that the marriage would take place." With a few "quiet assurances," Plummer had calmed Electa's fears, and though Martha did not give up her objection to the marriage, she weakened at the news of Plummer's election as sheriff of Bannack and his substantial holdings in mining claims. As for Thompson, he was so favorably impressed by Plummer that he did not wonder at Electa's happiness over the coming marriage.
The wedding was to take place as soon as Reverend Reed arrived on the steamer, which was still expected daily, but day after day passed without its arrival. Plummer was impatient to hold the ceremony and return to his duties as sheriff, but the Vails, oblivious to his concerns, stubbornly persisted in their plan to wait for a minister of their faith. To pass the time, they suggested the entire group make an excursion to the Great Falls of the Missouri, about thirty miles distant. Though the trip would be a dangerous one, requiring passage through Indian country, the magnificent view was considered worth the risk. They set out, Plummer, Swift, and Thompson riding horseback alongside the ambulance wagon carrying James, Martha, Electa, Mary, and Harvey.
They reached Horseshoe Falls by dark without incident and camped there for the night, cautiously building their campfire in a ravine out of sight of Indians, who were especially tempted to attack small parties. On reaching the falls the next day, they were all duly impressed by the grandeur of the spectacle and then quickly started for home, hoping the return trip would prove as safe. Plummer and Swift, riding ahead as an advance warning party, reached the top of a hill and suddenly whirled around, riding back toward the wagon at full gallop. Suspecting an Indian attack, Thompson and Vail promptly prepared to defend the women and children, but as it turned out, the excitement had been caused by a herd of antelope that the young men rightfully thought Thompson might want to pursue with his rifle.
As they came in sight of the farm, grateful to be on sure ground again, they received a second alarm. The fort was completely surrounded by Indian ponies. Fearing it had been taken over, they had to make the difficult decision whether to abandon it and look elsewhere for shelter or advance and retake it if necessary. They decided in favor of advancing cautiously.
(Click on image to see full size)
St. Peter's Mission, Montana, which provided a priest, Father Minatre, to
unite Plummer and Electa Bryan in marriage on 20 June 1863 at the Sun
River Farm. (Photo by Boswell, 1986)
During their absence, a party of Flatheads had ridden in, and on observing their approach, the man left in charge had locked both front and back gates. But while some of the party kept him occupied at the front, others climbed over the back gate and let themselves in, demanding they be served food. While they were enjoying their new command, the Flatheads saw the advance party of the Vails drawing near the gate and quickly relinquished power. James Vail let them off with no more than a scolding.
Plummer had not intended to be gone from Bannack so long and was growing restless at the needless delay, the mission being only a few miles away. The next day after the excursion, he and Swift rode to Fort Benton for news of the dilatory ship, bringing back word that waters were too shallow for the Shreveport to reach its destination. Electa and the Vails now agreed to have the marriage performed by Father Minatre of St. Peter's. He was sent for and arrived on 20 June, family and visitors at the fort gathering in the best room for the wedding. Electa wore a brown calico dress, "modest and unassuming," and Plummer a blue suit foxed with buckskin. James Vail gave away the bride, Martha acted as matron of honor, and Plummer had asked Joseph Swift to be his best man, leaving only Thompson with no role to play. Fearing he might feel left out, Father Minatre invited Thompson to act as bridesmaid and he accepted. The ceremony was "long and formal."
The women had prepared a wedding breakfast of baked buffalo hump, considered a delicacy, and corn bread, and as soon as the meal was finished, the men hitched "four wild Indian ponies" to the ambulance wagon, and "the happy couple" left "for Bannack city, the new metropolis." Thompson added that "the poor sister, Mrs. Vail, was almost heartbroken."[54]
The couple began their first day of married life seated side by side on a buckboard. Their first problem would be crossing the swollen Sun River, and they would have to spend their wedding night camped under the open skies, probably near the trees along Dearborn River. The trip to Bannack, begun on 20 June, the culminating day of the spring floods, would take at least seven days through a route considered risky even in a large company of armed men. They followed a trail through a valley brown with dried grass and withered buffalo peas, passing between buttes and gradually rising to climb Bird Tail Divide. Descending, they entered Little Prickly Pear Canyon, colorful with violets and geraniums, but with the creek so high that the road John Mullan mapped out lay beneath water, and they were forced to cut their own path through miles of rocky terrain along the base of the steep cliffs. Then came another lower divide and a larger valley where Indians camped and ducks and hundreds of spindly-legged curlews waded in shallow ponds. Crossing the Rockies at Mullan Pass, they reached Deer Lodge, near where Plummer and the Stuart brothers had spent a few pleasurable evenings playing poker, and from there, on down the river, past Beaverhead Rock, the strange formation that Sacajawea had recognized as a landmark of her childhood home, and then over the hills to Bannack.
Plummer had gotten his bride safely back to Bannack, and they had also made it through their first week of married life.
MARRIED LIFE
For years after, early residents of Bannack recalled the day Sheriff Plummer
rode into town with his new bride. Electa was sitting on the wagon seat beside
him, smiling. Bannack was a typical mining boomtown -- a single, dusty main
street, set in a narrow canyon and lined by false-fronted buildings, the first
such town Electa had ever seen. From the gulch where they entered, she could
make out the mile-high town site stretched along the valley cut by a meandering
creek. On its outskirts was a small camp of Shoshoni who ranged the area. The
hills bordering the narrow valley were now dry and bare, except for sagebrush,
all the cottonwood lining the creek and the pine and cedar that had been on the
mountaintops having been cut down for cabins and wickiups. All about her was
activity -- prosperous tradesmen conversing on the uneven boardwalks before
their businesses in voices loud enough to be heard above the violin music
issuing from open saloon doors, and busy miners working the mountain opposite
like ants swarming over an anthill -- yet there was a certain orderliness to it
all. On one side of Grasshopper Creek was a single street of residences, and on
the other side a single street of businesses. These two sections of town were
joined by a footbridge of no more than two unconnected logs slung across the
water.
Main Street, strictly a male domain, boasted three hotels, three
bakeries, three blacksmith shops, two stables, two meat markets, a
grocery store, a restaurant, a brewery, a billiard hall, and four
saloons. Though all of the businesses were built of logs, some had
decorative false fronts adding a touch of class. Despite the isolated
location and barren setting, the narrow canyon and neatly arranged
settlement gave off an atmosphere of snugness and security, the
completeness of a small world.
Plummer had purchased a town lot located just one block off
Main Street, and he took Electa there to the small cabin in which she
would be spending most of her time. Women rarely left home, not
even for shopping or visiting neighbors. She soon learned that her
husband's duties occupied nearly all of his time, but at first there was
enough work setting up housekeeping to keep her busy also. The
typical residence was a tiny one-room cabin built of rough logs still
covered with bark and chinked between with mud. The floor was
dirt, thickly padded with rye grass, over which an animal hide, fur
side up, was lain and fastened down with wooden pegs. The roof,
made of willow poles, was caked with mud and coated with a top layer of shale
to reduce the danger of fire from chimney sparks. Since the cabin had few if
any windows, an open door by day and a candle or lantern by night provided
lighting. Furnishings consisted of a stone fireplace for cooking, a crudely
carpentered table and stools, and a bunk, on which rested a mattress stuffed
with dry meadow grass. Notwithstanding the sparse household equipment, chores
proceeded as usual: cleaning, sewing, ironing, and laundry, which was done in
the same wooden tub used for bathing with water carried in a tin bucket from
the Grasshopper.
The women were very resourceful about making home life enjoyable. Though they
were forced to serve from tin plates and cups, they baked delicious meals,
substituting ingredients as necessary from whatever limited supplies might be
available. Always plentiful were wild meats such as antelope, deer, moose,
mountain sheep, grouse, or sage hen. To make up for its many shortcomings, the
cabin interior was usually decorated as cheerfully as possible: bare log walls
covered with fabric, white muslin curtains hung at a single window, and bright
calico prints tacked to crude shelves to convert them into cupboards. Electa,
who was known as a woman who "delighted" in her home life, certainly made her
cabin as inviting as any in town." She was accustomed to brightening a home and
doing household chores, but it was difficult for her to grow accustomed to
performing them alone. Still, the women's lives were not one eternal round of
housework since there was one social activity in Bannack in which they were
included.
Dimsdale states that dancing was "the great amusement"[56] for
all ages and both sexes, and Bannack's first cabin to have a wooden
floor was immediately borrowed to hold a dance, or ball as it was
called, complete with orchestra and dance programs. Granville
Stuart described these events as wholesome affairs that "all the
respectable people" enjoyed.
"Best suits... long forgotten, were dragged out, aired and pressed, as
best we could, and made ready for these festive occasions. A very few
of the men who had their wives with them, sported white shirts with
stiffly starched bosoms, but the majority wore flannel shirts with soft
collars and neckties. These dances were very orderly; no man that was
drinking was allowed in the hall. The young people danced the waltz,
schottish, varsoviane, and polka, but the older ones stuck to the
Virginia-reel and quadrille. There were usually about ten men to every
woman at these balls so the women danced every dance."[57]
One of the fiddlers who provided the music for the dances was Buzz
Caven, one of Plummer's more respected deputies and the former
owner of the late Toodles, who had been accidentally killed during
the gunfight at Skinner's saloon.
Another early resident, Robert Kirkpatrick, also left an account
of the dances at Bannack. "Little girls six and seven years of age
danced regularly, and ten year old girls considered themselves
young women in society." But he differs with Stuart about the
orderliness of the crowd: "The musicians often got so drunk they
could hardly keep their seats, and lots of the men half drunk in the
ball room. The floor manager sometimes had to put men out of the
hall for being drunk."[58]
Plummer, one of the best dancers in town, had attended the
balls during the winter and spring prior to Electa's arrival. Sarah
Wadams, fourteen years old at the time, claimed that before his
marriage he had escorted her to "a number of dances" and that he
was "pleasant and well mannered, never coming to a dance while
intoxicated." Sarah remembered the music being provided by a
horn, fiddle, and tambourine, or at other times by a banjo and
bones, and supper being served after: "cold boiled meat, brought all
the way from Johnnie Grant's ranch at Deer Lodge... served with
bread and butter and pickles... and pie and cake, stewed dried
fruit and tea.{59]
What is missing from all such recollections of the good times is any mention
that Electa ever participated. Quite possibly she did not enter into the social
life of the community. Throughout her entire life the only activities she is
reported to have been involved in that took her outside the home are teaching
school and attending church, neither institution existing in Bannack while she
was there. She had probably expected the boomtown of Bannack to be something
like her hometown of Findlay, Ohio, a proper, sedate farm village of some one
hundred families, a Methodist church, a Presbyterian church, a county
courthouse, two newspapers, an academy, a gristmill, and thirteen mercantiles
-- but not a single saloon.[60]
A NEW REPUTATION
Plummer's office, a room he rented at the back of a general store owned
by George Chrisman, was no more than a block from the cabin where Electa
spent so many hours alone. But the sheriff was rarely allowed the luxury
of staying at his office. On the very day Plummer had arrived at Sun
River for Electa, Bill Fairweather, like an unwilling pied piper, was
toodling away to Alder Gulch hundreds of stampeders who deserted their
Bannack claims to trail along behind him either on foot or on horseback
to the richest strike in mining history. On his return, Plummer learned
his district had been expanded by a distance of eighty miles from
Bannack. Though he visited Alder Gulch regularly, he also appointed
deputies to assist him there and to take charge during his absence. As
mentioned earlier, there were few good men interested in risking their
lives trying to keep in line the influx of roughs, desperados, and monte
sharpers arriving daily from other gold camps, and Plummer was forced to
accept whomever he could get. Yet since Langford attributed to him "a
great executive ability" and "a power over men that was remarkable," he
probably felt confident he could handle even the worst of his deputies."
Unfortunately he lost one of his best assistants, a man who could have
been a great help in the difficult days ahead. While Plummer had been at
the Vail farm waiting for Reverend Reed to arrive, a quarrel developed
between his deputies in a brush shanty saloon at Nevada City, and the
best of the lot, J. W. Dillingham, was shot. Charlie Forbes, Buck
Stinson, and Haze Lyons were charged with the murder. Forbes was
acquitted and the other two sentenced to hang, though they were both
freed later by a popular vote instigated by interfering women. Dimsdale,
not taking into account that Plummer was two hundred miles away waiting
for his marriage at the time Dillingham was killed, credited the sheriff
with giving the order to shoot.[62] Not only was Plummer out of town during the weeks
before and after the deputies' disagreement, but no one would have
benefitted more than he from the assistance and support of a good man
such as Dillingham, especially in distant Virginia City.
As it was, Plummer was required to make frequent trips to Alder Gulch himself.
Judge Pemberton recalls these trips, in particular one in which he "like to
had a fight" with the sheriff. Having just recently opened a law practice in
Virginia City, Pemberton was summoned to represent a client Plummer had
arrested for theft, a "dark feller," as he described the defendant, "black,
with a red shirt on, a dirty flannel shirt and black hair that stood out on
end... the hardest looking rooster I ever seen in all my life." The young
lawyer succeeded in getting the accused thief acquitted, receiving as payment
his client's horse. But when he went to the stable to pick it up, he was
informed he would have to pay a bill for the animal's keep, a sum of $19.
Pemberton, informing the sheriff that it was not right for him to be charged
since his client had been found innocent, refused to pay the livery bill.
Plummer, though, insisted the new owner could not take the horse until the
stable owner was paid. Threatening to initiate a lawsuit over the matter,
Pemberton angrily commenced filling out the necessary paperwork, and Plummer,
watching him for a time, then sauntered over. "Pemberton," he said, "you
ain't got no use for that hoss."
"No, I ain't got no use for the hoss, but he's mine!" Pemberton
answered.
"Well, wouldn't you rather have two hundred dollars in gold dust than that
hoss?" When Pemberton admitted he would, Plummer had the horse auctioned in
the street and bought it himself at a bid of $221. Thus Pemberton got his money
for the acquittal of his client, the stable got its fee, and Plummer got a
"mighty pretty hoss," but the real climax of Pemberton's tale is that the black
defendant turned out to be none other than "the main roadster in the gang, a
feller they called 'Brocky Pete,' " and the bay mare Plummer bought turned out
to be "one of the best horses they had in the gang."[63]
Though the dialect attributed to Plummer above does not fit him, but rather its
narrator, Judge Pemberton, a native of Tennessee, the anecdote is interesting
for being one of the rare stories that shows Plummer in action at his job, as
well as revealing that he had a weakness for a good horse. More important,
Pemberton's added-on conclusion illustrates well the local practice of
enhancing a commonplace recollection by linking it to Montana's most famous
scandal. There was no Brocky Pete associated with the gang.
Another early resident who recalled one of Plummer's many visits to Alder Gulch
is little Mollie Sheehan, who, though she did not see him herself, remembers
listening to her parents discuss the sheriff after he had just left town,
commenting to each other on "how picturesque he was in appearance, how gentle
in manner."[64] Such trips to the camps lining Alder Gulch kept Plummer on the
road for days at a time, but even when in Bannack, he had little free time for
home life. Because he was so approachable, there was no loss considered too
insignificant to be brought to the sheriff's attention, even the mysterious
disappearance of a bedroll from its owner's wagon: "Met Henry Plummer just
before getting to Rattlesnake," N. H. Webster put down in his journal, "he was
on horseback; I told him about losing my robe and overcoat there a few days
before and he said he would try to find them for me; he is the sheriff of the
country. He appears to be a very nice man, I like him very much."[65] Webster
may have liked Plummer then, but later when the sheriff asked him to contribute
$2.50 towards a jail he was erecting through subscription, Webster refused.
Many citizens preferred the alternative of hanging prisoners to the expense of
jailing and guarding them, especially since low-security confinement resulted
in such frequent jailbreaks. Commenting on the sheriff's request, the editor of
the journal marveled that Plummer did not immediately shoot Webster for
refusing to contribute to his project.[66]
Plummer's constant involvement with his constituents left Electa alone, but in
addition, she may have looked on certain aspects of her husband's work as
distasteful, such as carrying out punishment for serious crime. When John Horan
shot an old man named Keeler, Plummer had to arrest him and, after his being
found guilty, have a gallows constructed for the execution. Before his
execution date Horan escaped from his guards and had to be recaptured, and
Judge Burchett, ignoring the prisoner's plea for a three-day postponement to
allow time for the arrival of a priest who could hear confession, demanded the
prisoner be hanged "damned quick." Plummer carried out the death sentence on
the new gallows.[67]
There were some such unwelcome duties, yet Plummer was
building up a good reputation in the mining districts, even his critics
crediting him with being an efficient lawman. "It was generally
believed," an early historian recorded, that Plummer "was making
exhaustive efforts to protect the people and their property."[68] As for
the problem of his former bad reputation, Hoffman Birney concludes
that Plummer's "every action following his return to Bannack as a
married man forces us to believe his reformation sincere. He forsook
gambling as a profession, drank only occasionally and then very
sparingly, deserted the saloons, paid strict attention to his official
duties and had nothing to do with the rowdy element."[69] The
resulting new reputation was such that several Masons expressed a
desire to accept him as a member of their brotherhood as soon as a
lodge was set up in Bannack.
Though Plummer was already "the law" in the area, in August he was presented
the opportunity of being granted federal authorization for his work when
Marshall D. S. Payne rode to Bannack, requesting the nomination of a
candidate for deputy U.S. marshall of eastern Idaho and promising Langford his
nominee would be appointed. Langford took up the matter with the thirty
members of the Union League, of which he was president, and they voted
unanimously for Plummer. But Langford, showing the knack for aggravating others
(later prompting one Ed French to shoot him in the eye), refused to make the
nomination to Marshall Payne. On learning Langford was trying to block his
approval as deputy marshall, Plummer invited Langford to sit down on an
ox-shoeing frame with him and discuss the situation. Though a man of few words,
in the ensuing conversation Plummer uttered more than a few "oaths and
epithets," telling Langford, "You'll be sorry for this before the matter
ends. I've always been your friend, but from this time on, I'm your enemy."[70]
Langford gave the impression that Plummer's nomination for deputy marshall
rested solely in his hands and that he was able to prevent Plummer's
consideration; however, Wilbur Sanders disagreed, maintaining that Plummer "was
a candidate for United States Marshal of the new territory with respectable but
limited support."[71] Likewise, Beidler claimed that Plummer's application
was forwarded by Idaho territorial authorities to Washington for
consideration. There is further evidence to believe this was the case.[72]
One question that has never been satisfactorily answered about this
period of Plummer's life is how he was getting along with Electa. Those
who interviewed early citizens of Bannack report the gossip of bitter
arguments between the newly married couple, angry words loud enough to
be heard in the street. Though such reports may be baseless, the
adjustment period of their marriage could well have included strong
disagreements, especially since both partners held such high
expectations of the other. Rumors that Plummer, though courteous and
patient at work, was irritable at home may hold some credibility. It
would not be unusual for a tired man to be snappish after a difficult
day. Still, Plummer could not have rated all that low as a husband; he
was known for wanting to make up differences, even having apologized to
Crawford during their difficulties. And he was reputed to be a generous
man. As for Electa, Langford found her as "loving as a child."[73] There
may have been some initial disappointments and some serious problems,
but not likely any conflicts sufficient to destroy their love so soon.
Their two main problems were her strong attachment to family and his
love for a low-paying job that required him to spend even more days away
from home supervising work at distant mining claims that provided the
couple's real income. Of necessity his claims were widely scattered due
to rules limiting an individual's holdings to one hundred feet at each
discovery site. And each claim had to be worked continuously; otherwise
ownership rights were forfeited and the claim could be jumped, making it
necessary that owners keep careful check to insure miners hired to work
a claim stuck close to the property. There were enjoyable experiences
in Bannack for those with a companion, sitting on the doorstep on a warm
evening or walking to a mountain meadow to pick wild flowers or hear
meadowlarks; but Electa was always alone, and it was impossible she
could continue to survive such loneliness when she had never yet been
weaned from her older sister. Plummer, who had left home and family at
an early age to make his way on his own, probably could not understand
such a dependence as Electa had for Martha, just as she failed to
understand the importance he placed on his career. There is no written
evidence of how her love fared for him under these difficult
circumstances, but he made a statement that reveals her importance to
him. "Now that I am married and have something to live for, and hold an
official position," he told Langford, "I will show you that I can be a
good man among good men."[74] Plummer's admitted reliance on Electa to
give meaning to his life left him vulnerable to the usual dangers of
placing the source of motivation outside of oneself.
THE SEPARATION
Since the Shreveport still had not put into port and there were
therefore still no supplies or salaries, the Fourth of July 1863 was not a
day of celebration at the Indian farm. The steady diet of unsweetened
coffee, wild meat, and cornmeal was getting old. James Vail and Francis
Thompson tried to brighten spirits by loading up the fort cannon and
firing a salute of patriotism, but they lamented having no fireworks to
go along with it. Mary and Harvey may have appreciated the bit of
excitement provided by the cannon blast, but Martha, still despondent
over Electa's marriage, declined to participate.[75]
An even more serious problem facing the family was that the Indians were
daily becoming more troublesome. A small band who had spent a night
camped at the farm moved on towards St. Peter's Mission, where it was
discovered soon after that all the horses had been stolen, and travelers
on their way to meet the steamer brought in news of a massacre in Little
Prickly Pear Canyon. Though no bodies were found, one portion of the
trail was littered with remnants of the victims' possessions, among
them letters an unknown young man had received from a little girl back
in Wisconsin.
Travelling at night so as not to be spotted by Indians, Vail left Martha
and the children in the care of Francis Thompson and Joseph Swift and
rode to Benton for news of the long overdue ship, only to be told it was
not coming at all. Waters of the Missouri were too low for it to be run
to Ft. Benton, and the captain of the ship had ordered the goods unloaded
on the river bank and returned to St. Louis, abandoning disgruntled
passengers to a two-hundred-mile hike to reach their destination. A few
early stragglers had arrived at Benton on 3 July, reporting that
Reverend Reed should not be expected and that no further steamers
would be attempting the journey that year. The Vails were in quite a
predicament.
Francis Thompson was sympathetic at their distress, but he was
worrying over his own problems in trying to rescue his abandoned
goods, and Joseph Swift, who had worked on the farm for an entire
year without wages, understandably did not want to sign on for a
second year. As a substitute for wages, Vail offered six of the farm's
oxen, which Swift accepted and then promptly hired on to assist
Thompson in setting up as a merchant. The two of them departed
for gold country with intentions of locating a store site, leaving the
Vail family alone at the farm to meet their crisis as best they could.
Thompson rode a sort of chariot he had put together from scraps left at
the fort -- wheels, an axle, a dry goods box, and strips of buffalo hide
to bind it all together -- a contraption James Vail had nicknamed
Thompson's "go-devil." Following behind on horseback came Joseph Swift,
herding the oxen Vail had given him. After making camp their first night
on the trail, the prospective merchants each leaned back against a tree
and commenced recording the day's events in their respective diaries,
Thompson noting that the strange picture the two of them presented "may
have struck some stray Blackfoot as a literary institution."[76]
At Deer Lodge, Swift sold his oxen at such a good profit that
Thompson invited him to invest as a partner in the projected
business, to which Swift agreed. The following night they camped at
Cariboo, where they enjoyed a supper of beaver tail and bread.
After considering possible sites at Bannack and the several
towns along Alder Gulch, they selected the two buildings that the
Stuart brothers had vacated on Main Street in Bannack, and with
their pooled resources, bought a team and headed for Benton to pick
up the merchandise dropped by the steamer somewhere downstream.
At the Sun River crossing, they found James, Martha, and
children in the same straits as before, game meat and dried corn still
barely holding out. Swift drove on with the team, leaving Thompson
to take a short rest at the farm before pushing on.
On 22 August, Thompson made a last appearance at the Vails',
alone in his go-devil and bound for Bannack. On reaching the Deer
Lodge area, he was warned not to attempt Indian country alone and
therefore offered his services as a guide to a party of men from
Lewiston: Lowry, Romaine, Zachary, Page, Yeager, Wagner,
Marshland, and Doc Howard, who claimed to be a graduate of Yale
medical school. The Lewiston party turned out to be pleasant company,
treating Thompson as their guest by inviting him to eat the
delicious meals prepared by their cook, Red Yeager, and tending his
horse for him throughout the trip. En route they overtook a heavily
loaded pack train owned by a wealthy trader named Magruder, who
was headed for Virginia City to take advantage of the high prices his
goods would command there. Though Thompson stayed at Bannack,
his travelling companions caught up to Magruder and hired
on as his employees, clerking in his Virginia City store during the
day and sleeping in a back room at night. More will be heard of
Magruder and Doc Howard's party later.
One of the first persons Thompson ran into on the streets of
Bannack was Sheriff Plummer, but when Thompson informed him
about the party he had just escorted to town, Plummer seemed
disgusted with him. "Thompson, those men are cut throats and
robbers," he said. "Hell will be to pay now!" Thompson protested that
the men had been very agreeable and that they had also spoken very
highly of Plummer. "They speak well of me for they don't dare do
otherwise," the sheriff answered.[77]
Thompson also learned from Plummer that the Vails had temporarily
left the farm and followed after Electa, reaching Bannack a
few days prior and moving into a cabin on Yankee Flat, where the
Plummers were taking their meals with them. When Thompson
stopped by to see Martha, she invited him to join them as a boarder,
suggesting terms Thompson found reasonable, and he accepted for
both himself and Joseph Swift, who was still on the trail with the
load of merchandise.
The second day after Thompson's arrival in Bannack, while
conversing with Electa, she surprised him with the news that "Mr.
Plummer was away from home so much attending to his duties as
sheriff, that she with his consent had concluded to go to her home in
Iowa, and he was to meet her there in the fall."[78] Her announcement
surprised not only Thompson, but the rest of the townspeople, who
could not help wondering what her real reasons for going were and
advancing individual theories of explanation. Some said Plummer
60
HANGING THE SHERIFF
was sending her away because she got in his way, but others thought
she was leaving voluntarily because she did not trust him any longer
and he had been cruel to her. Though she had said she was lonely
and wanted to visit her family, it was also suspected this could be a
delicate way of expressing that she was expecting a child and wanted
to be near a family doctor for the birth.
The most logical explanation for the separation is the reason
Electa gave Thompson. She had been open and honest with him in
expressing her most private emotions back at the farm, leaving no
justification for thinking her secretive or deceptive on this occasion.
She wanted to go home, as she had told him, because her husband
was always gone and she was left alone. The Vails would soon be
returning to the farm when the matter of supplies was concluded,
and Electa had had enough of the lonely days in the small cabin,
waiting for her husband to come back from some mine where he had
been called to give an opinion on whether its owners were discarding
precious silver in the piles of tailings, or counting the days it might
take to locate a herd of lost or stolen horses. The diary of an early
miner, John Grannis, makes clear the endless days residents spent in
tracking down strayed livestock, and as sheriff, Plummer was
expected to join in the search.
Electa, who had probably never before spent an entire night
alone, could not have slept very comfortably alone in a town where
men had to go armed. But what is puzzling about her words to
Thompson is that her husband was to join her in the fall. It was
already fall. She may have intended for him to follow after her in a
few weeks, or she may have been referring to fall of the next year,
which would have been a lengthy separation for the couple. Also,
she made no mention of them later returning to Bannack, and was
apparently requesting Plummer to give up his career in the West
altogether. As for her reason for leaving so soon, she had no control
over the time schedule of her departure, there being no regular stage
to Salt Lake City at the time, so that the next one out could also be
the last one for the year.
Any doubts about whether Plummer still loved Electa after her decision
to leave him are put to rest by the scene of her departure from Bannack.
When the stage pulled out on 2 September 1863, with Electa aboard,
Plummer was riding alongside! And he continued to accompany her in that
manner for several days. The trip to Salt Lake City was far from
comfortable. Thompson, who had once taken the same route, complained
that the coach was simply a box wagon without springs of any kind, drawn
by two mules. The company had no ranches upon the route, but every
thirty or forty miles some man was stationed who put up a little wakiup
and guarded a few animals, if the Indians kindly left any, so that a
change might possibly be made if the team could go no further.
Passengers had to furnish their own provisions and do their own cooking.
The season was usually dry, feed for stock very scarce, and all the
animals were weak and scrawny.... Alkali dust... found its way into
everything, baggage, clothing, ears, eyes and nostrils.
A coating of dust always had to be scraped from any food carried
along in order to make it edible. If there were delays, drivers tried to
make up the lost time by travelling at night, but usually fell asleep,
leaving the mules to stray from the road and passengers to dismount
and "grope around on the ground to find the trail." The one advantage
to the open air wagon was the opportunity it provided to view
the picturesque scenery along the way -- Red Rock Canyon, Market
Lake, and most impressive, the majestic Teton peaks.[79]
At Eagle Rock ferry on the Snake River, the Plummers crossed
paths with a wagon train headed back in the direction from which
they had just come. It was carrying the new chief justice sent to the
territory by President Lincoln, and the meeting turned out to be a
momentous one because the justice formed an opinion of Plummer
that colored his thinking throughout all their future relations.
Sidney Edgerton, a former congressman from Ohio, had
brought with him his wife, Mary, two sons, a small daughter, and
thirteen-year-old Mattie, the eldest. Besides the immediate family,
there was a niece, Lucia Darling, and a nephew, Wilbur Sanders,
who had brought his wife, two children, and a hired girl. The final
member of the party was Henry Tilden, an ailing fifteen-year-old
from their hometown in Ohio, whom Edgerton had agreed to bring
along as his ward in hopes a change of climate might improve the
boy's health.
On meeting Plummer at the ferry, all of the Edgertons took an
immediate liking to him, but their opinion was just as quickly
reversed after talking with a wagon master who had also stopped his
freight train at the ferry. The wagon master had heard rumors about
the sheriff's former notoriety and, Mattie wrote, "proceeded to
enlighten us regarding Plummer, knowledge that left us no doubt of
his character and prepared Father and Wilbur to be on guard
against this noted desperado." Mattie found the sheriff fascinating;
it was the first time she had seen an authentic "bad man, one who
was quick on the draw." Henry Tilden, the other adolescent in the
party, took a similar interest in the "bad man."[80]
From this fateful meeting on the Snake River comes the only
existing physical description of Electa. Though she did not speak to the
family, Mattie did take notice of her. "She stayed in the wagon but
she was pointed out to us as the wife of the Sheriff of Bannack....
Mrs. Plummer was a small woman, I remember. I guess you would
call her a blonde. She had big grey eyes and her hair was brown, soft
and fluffy."[81]
After the encounter with the Edgertons, Henry Plummer's days
were numbered -- one hundred twenty-six to be exact. It is not
known at what point on Electa's journey Plummer finally left her
and turned back, but wherever and whenever, it was the last time
they were to see each other. Plummer must have ridden home feeling
that her love for him was a "diminished thing" since the days of
Sun River.
(Click on image to see full size)
(Photo courtesy of Montana Historical Society)
(Click on image to see full size)
Main street of Bannack, as seen from near Plummer's grave site in Hangman's
Gulch. To the left of the wickiup frame stands the supposed site of the
Plummers' home, now overgrown with sagebrush, but with foundation logs of the
cabin still visible. (Photo by Boswell, 1986)
(Click on image to see full size)
Bannack Jail on the bank of
Grasshopper Creek, built in 1863 by Sheriff Plummer through funds he
raised from private donations. To the front and right of the jail stands
the building that housed Chrisman's store, where the sheriff kept an
office. (Photo by Boswell, 1985)
(Click on image to see full size)
Bannack's Goodrich Hotel, where Plummer took up residence after Electa
returned to the East. (Photo courtesy of Montana Historical Society)
