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Brigham’s Destroying Angel

Chapter III conclusion

“I rode up by his side and shot him through the heart.” Page 94.

     We moved on, found good grass, and encamped, and soon a company of sixteen men came on the same fiat, from California, and encamped below us. I went and found their captain, a man I had known in Illinois. He had been in California two years, and was going back on the forty-mile sand desert, which we had just crossed, for wagons that had been left there. I got a good drink of brandy, and then told him of the circumstance that had happened in our camp. He and all his men shouted: “Hang him up. Why have you not done it before? We have to do it in this country and in California in the absence of law. If he had done such a deed in the mines, where you are going, he would have been hung in less than three hours.”

     I invited the captain to come up after dark, and bring half a dozen of his best men with him, stating that I would have him arrested, and we would investigate the case. I selected four of my best men, told them to got as close to him as they could, and then bounce upon him. I watched, and he did not appear to notice until one of them got in about ten feet of him, when he straightened up, put his hand on a pistol, but had no time to draw it before all four of my men had him tight, and he was soon tied. Supper being over, the captain of the California company, with six men, came into camp. I called my company together and took a vote of the company to see what was their wish. All voted for a trial. I then appointed a judge and three jurymen, and the California captain appointed three of his men as jurymen, to hear the case. I stated that I would appoint this California captain to prosecute the case, and the prisoner might choose one or two to assist him. I took a vote on this, and it was unanimously agreed to. The prisoner got his counsel.

     The judge and jury were seated, all things went off smoothly, and no evidence was denied. When through, the prisoner was asked what he had to say. He answered: “That d—d s—n of a b—h, he insulted me by giving me the lie, and no man can do that and live. That’s my motto, and Watson knew it; consequently he deserved death.” This was his only reason for killing him. The jury was out about fifteen minutes, and returned a verdict of murder in the first degree.

     All was still, and I called a vote of the company, giving that same jury power to say what should be done with him. All agreed. They were out about five minutes, returned, and said: “Hang him.” Men were sent to find a tree with a limb suitable, and found one a few hundred yards from camp. This was about two o’clock in the night. A brush-fire was built, and the prisoner notified he had half an hour to live, and could say what he had to say during that time. He got a man to pray for him, who prayed about ten minutes. Then the prisoner commenced finding fault with almost everyone in camp. His time was cried every five minutes. He swore and used the roughest language, acting more like a devil than a man going to die.

     When the last five minutes was cried, he turned to me, whom he seemed to have missed in his volley of abuse, and said: “There is the captain, a man I thought was a gentleman. It was in his power to have saved me, but he has let all this go on and not tried to prevent my being hanged, and, if there is such a thing, I will come back and haunt you all the days of your life.” I replied: “I am not much afraid of live men, and much less of dead ones.”

     A lariat was put around his neck, thrown over a limb, and he was drawn four feet from the ground, and the other end fastened to a stake, and left until morning. Next morning he was rolled in his blanket, and buried under the same tree, and at eight o’clock we rolled on. I noticed the looks of the company that day, and all seemed to say we had done right.

     Next we got to the Mormon station kept by Colonel Reese, a Mormon trader. It is now known as Genoa. There were eight or ten men there, but not a woman in the valley. When we reached California I sold my stock and went to mining; worked in the Coon Hill diggings four or five weeks, and sank three hundred dollars. This was one mile south of Placerville, then called Hangtown.

     While working there, William Haven, a man who had wintered in Salt Lake Valley the year before, came to see me and wanted me to mine with him. He was in company with two others, he having two shares and they one apiece; so I went and paid him two hundred dollars for one of his shares, and went to work. I soon made acquaintances, and to many was a matter of curiosity as a Mormon from Salt Lake. People would come to see me; as if expecting to see a different species of human being. Sometimes we made as high as forty dollars per day to the hand.

     There was no law in the mines at that time only miners’ laws, which was justice in all cases, irrespective of persons. I had to sit arbitrator on two cases of theft, the punishment for which was hanging. Both were for stealing money, small amounts, not over one hundred dollars. After sentence, I made a speech begging leniency—asked mercy for them—proposed giving them a good dose of pine limbs, which, when put to a vote of the company, was agreed to. They got a good dressing-down, and were never seen on that flat afterwards.

     I made about one thousand dollars there, went to another place and sank money running a tunnel; went to another place and began placer mining again.

     About this time the California papers were full of news about trouble in Utah. Some judges had been sent here, and they and Brother Brigham could not hitch horses. The papers talked fight all the time, and stated that United States troops were to be sent to Salt Lake as soon as they could cross the Plains. I grew uneasy about home, and determined to return as soon as I could cross the mountains. I had intended to stay another year, but, true to my friend Brigham, thought if trouble came on I could help him some, and this was more than money to me.

     I had the pleasure of digging gold in several places. The largest nugget I found weighed a little over four ounces, but I worked many a day that I did not make anything. I invested money in deep diggings, and lost several hundred dollars. In June, ’52, eight of us were ready to go to Salt Lake, four of us living there, and the other four going to the States. We bought Spanish horses and mules, fine and fat, rigged up pack-saddles, bought good riding-saddles, and set out for Salt Lake, which we reached in twenty-one days. On the Humboldt River, where the Indians had been so bad the year before, we met a heavy emigration going to California, this—1852—being the greatest year for emigration.

     We arrived in Salt Lake the 3d of July. I went home, ten miles south of the city; found the family all alive and well, the stock all fat, and I at home again with a few hundreds to make them comfortable. The next day I went and saw Brigham Young, and made him a present of fifty dollars. We had a long meeting.

     I spent the summer and fall at home, trading some with the late California emigrants, getting two poor animals for one fat one, and bought some at less than half what they were worth when fat.

     Winter came on and there was much said about one Ike Hatch and his company stealing horses and cattle. Brigham wanted me to watch him and some others, and report to him, which I did for two or three months. I found that he was killing beef and bringing it to town, and stealing horses and trading them off to persons going away from the Territory. He was bringing in beef for some of Brigham Young’s special friends, either as a donation or partnership; anyway they had him steal for them, and bring it to them. I reported this to Brigham also, which seemed to strike him anew with rather a set-back, and I was not asked to watch him again. A month or two after this a man living thirty five miles south, who had lost his last and only pair of horses, found out Hatch had stolen them, came to me and said he had got the word from Brigham to kill him, and wanted me and another man to assist him. Hatch was watched for and shot, lived a few days and died. This was laid to me, and I never denied it. Brigham Young said that was a good deed, let who would do it.

     After he was killed, his family moved south fifty miles, but his comrades kept up their stealing, and finally started East. This man who had lost his horses came to me about midnight the first of April, ’53, and said the Hatch party had gone, and he thought they had his horses along, from what he could learn; said he had been to Brigham Young, and he told him to come and, get me and some others, and follow and kill the last one of them.

     The next day I was in the city, mounted on the best horse in the Territory, with another good one for my friend. We got off at 3 p.m. The day had been warm, the snow deep, and the waters were high; so that we had to travel on the mountain sides, on the Indian trail, up the cañon. The wind blew a hurricane blast, and the clouds overshadowed the mountain, so that when we had passed the first range we were obliged to stop. It commenced to snow, and one of the worst storms I ever saw ensued. Morning came and the storm abated, but the tracks of the party we were in pursuit of were put out by the snow. Guessing at the road they would go, we set out and went to Fort Bridger. but could hear nothing of them. I was left at Fort Bridger with one man to watch for them. The balance went to Green River, seventy miles farther on. They had been gone two days, when some mountaineers came to Fort Bridger and told me they had seen such men as we were inquiring for in Echo Cañon the day before, and when they—i.e., the horse-thieves, saw them, they ran, taking up the mountain. I had only a boy of eighteen with me, untried and unproven; did not know whether he would stand up to the rack in danger or not. I asked him what he thought of going after them, and he said he would go with me.

     We started at 10 o’clock a.m., and by dark were at the mouth of Echo Cañon, seventy miles away, where an old man and his son-in-law lived. But these were of no advantage to us, as neither of them had nerve enough to pull a setting-hen off her nest. I inquired about the thieves, but they knew nothing about them. It commenced snowing and raining that night, and kept it up until the next day. Next morning it cleared off fine and warm; the snow passed off the south hill-sides, and we went out to look for tracks. Found old ones on the mountain-side which we thought must have been made by them; followed them about four miles and came to fresh ones, just made, going towards Weber River. We looked up and down the river, being on the mountain-side, so we could see for miles each way, and saw them near the river about two miles off. Saw them shooting wild geese. There were four of them, and all had guns and pistols. We had Colt’s revolvers only.

     We watched them some time, and studied how we could get to them without being seen. We fell back and took down the river, keeping out of sight until we were close to them. I told Joe to cock his pistol, and I cocked mine. I looked at him, and he was pale and trembling. I hit him a slap on the face, and told him I would break his head if he did not look out. His color came, his nerve steadied, and his eyes flashed with anger. I said to him: “Obey orders, and follow me.”

     We rode around the brush and made a dash upon them, at the same time crying out: “Here they are, boys, come on.” I ordered a surrender, told them to deliver their arms to Joe forthwith, at the same time presenting my pistol at the one I considered the most dangerous, and swearing to shoot the first man that hesitated. They delivered up their arms in quick time. I told Joe to keep back a few paces, while I marched them in front of me to the house at the mouth of the cañon. When we got into the road they wanted to know where the balance of the company was. I made them believe they were close by, but when we got to the house it was soon known that we had no company with us. They swore if they had known that, they would not have been taken, and began talking of leaving. We took a gun apiece, hid the balance of their arms, and stood guard over them.

     In a short time our men were up, not a dry hair on their horses. When they returned to Fort Bridger and heard the news, they came on as fast as their horses could bring them. We then learned the thieves’ camp was six miles back in the mountain that their horses were there, and all their camp equipage, and that one of their company had gone to the city for flour.

     The next day we went to their camp and brought everything to the house; found three stolen animals, but the man who had come for me, expecting to find his horses, was disappointed. We had no evidence against three of the prisoners, but started them for the city, and sent the guilty one down the river with a bullet-hole through him.

     We divided our company, as there were two roads to the city, in order to catch the other thief, Ike Vauglm. The party I was not with caught him at the mouth of Emigration Cañon, within five miles of the city, returning to his company. I got to the city with my party about dark, and learned they had Vaughn. We had had a hard trip through the snow, crossing the mountain, had storms on us half the time, and were tired and worn out, so we turned the prisoner over to the acting Police with instructions to wind up his career that night.

     About midnight we were wakened from a sound sleep by one of the police, who told us the prisoner was gone. We asked him how it happened. He said they took him out and hit him a rap on the head, when he broke loose and outran them. We got up and searched until daylight, but got no trace of him. I went with Mr. R—, the man who had lost his horses, to see Brigham Young, and make a report of what we had done.

     Mr. R— gave him a full report of all that had taken place, and the escape of Vaughn. He said we had done well; told us to go home and rest, and then go after Vaughn again, and never stop until we had killed him. We then asked him what should be done with their property. He said: “Turn it over to the Church.” He saw Mr. R— did not like this, having lost his horses, which were taken by this party, been on a hard trip, and then to turn over property to those who had plenty, did not suit him. Brother Brigham finally said: “Take the property and divide it among yourselves, which we did.”

     I got a small Spanish mule worth seventy-five dollars, a rifle, and two half-worn blankets for my share. Here let me say that this is all I ever got for services rendered on Brigham Young’s orders. Neither did I ever receive a present from him, not so much as one dollar. But from the cause of my former belief I questioned nothing, supposing him right in all things, and it not only a duty, but highly necessary that I should obey his commands, and in the end it would prove both spiritual and temporal salvation to me, which situation thousands of others are now in, in this Territory.

     We rested one day, when Mr. R—, with one man, started south to San Pete Valley, a distance of one hundred and twenty-five miles, to see if Vaughn was there, as he had some acquaintances living there. They called on the widow of I. Hatch, thinking he might be there, but got no news of him. Mrs. Hatch told Mr. R— that her husband said just before he died that he had taken Mr. R—’s horses, and sold them to a Californian; that they were gone and he was sorry, but could not help it now, and wanted her to tell Mr. R—, if she ever saw him.

     They returned, not hearing of Vaughn, but said they had things fixed so that if he was seen he would be attended to. Shortly after this he told me Vaughn was caught and killed down South. I never asked him who did it; nor do I know yet. The other three were turned loose, and went to California.

     I had been making preparations for a road trade all winter, intending to take an outfit and go somewhere in the vicinity of Green River, and trade with the California and Oregon immigration for tired and lame stock, and buy surplus loading, which was generally sold cheap when teams began to get tired.

     I commenced reading law, of which I had a smattering when quite young. I had given attention to it ever since I saw that law knowledge and talent were quite ordinary, as a general thing, in this country. I thought I would, after awhile, make a business of practicing law, but this summer I intended to trade. I got my outfit of stock, groceries, and a set of blacksmith’s tools, and went to Green River; got there the first of May, and the mountain-traders, some forty or fifty, all met me, wanting whiskey. I had plenty , and sold whisky a whisky a few days at two dollars per pint, and took in six or seven hundred dollars. I thought I had better go back farther on the road, as there were so many trading at and around Green River; so I went to Pacific Springs, sixty miles farther east, set up shop and grocery, and the immigration soon began to come. Horse-shoeing, wagon-repairing, and whisky were all in big demand, and lame stock cheap.

Hickman killing Hartley, by order of Orson Hyde, one of the Twelve Apostles. Page 98.

     I had been there but a few days when Doc. Morton, from St. Louis, came with a similar outfit for a road trade. He was surgeon in Colonel Doniphan's regiment of volunteers. from western Missouri, during the Mexican war. He was also the Morton of the wholesale drug store in St. Louis. This gentleman had seen something of the Plains, and was taking this trip for a change, not expecting to find any trader there. He seemed sad and disappointed. I saw he was a gentleman, and told him there would be trade enough for us both ; so he set up his establishment about two hundred yards from me. Emigration from the East to California and Oregon soon came thick. Drove after drove of cattle passed daily, most of which had lame or tired ones to sell. We paid from five to ten dollars per head; seldom over. Traded for several good horses, some lame, some sick; bought clothing. groceries, wagons, harness, and tents at a low figure.

     We wound up some time in August. The Doctor went to Salt Lake with his stock, sold out, and went to St. Louis that fall. I got home with over a hundred head more stock then I started with, and a little of almost everything else. I made a reckoning after I got home of what I had made that summer, and it was over nine thousand dollars. I had bought some of the finest Durham stock I ever saw; they being heavy and tender, could not be driven through. From this stock I raised, and had the premium stock of the Salt Lake fairs for many years.

     During the summer a difficulty took place between the ferrymen and mountain men. The latter had always owned and run the ferry across Green River; but the Utah Legislature granted a charter to Hawley, Thompson & McDonald, for all the ferries there. The mountain men, who had lived there for many years, claimed their rights to be the oldest, and a difficulty took place, in which the mountain men took forcible possession of all the ferries but one, making some thirty thousand dollars out of them. When the ferrying season was over, the party having the charter brought suit against them for all they had made during the summer.

     About this time it was rumored that Jim Bridger was furnishing the Indians with powder and lead to kill Mormons. Affidavits were made to that effect, and the sheriff was ordered out with a posse of one hundred and fifty men to arrest him, capture his ammunition, and destroy all his liquors. I was sent for to come to Brigham Young’s office. He told me he wanted me to go with the sheriff, James Ferguson, and party, as I had been out there that summer, was acquainted with those mountaineers, and might be of special service. I accordingly went; Bridger had heard of this and left - no one knew where to. We searched around several days for him. Finally one of the party who had taken the ferries, came to Fort Bridger and was arrested. No ammunition was found, but the whisky and rum, of which he had a good stock, was destroyed by doses: the sheriff, most of his officers, the doctor and chaplain of the company, all aided in carrying out the orders, and worked so hard day and night that they were exhausted - not being able to stand up. But the privates, poor fellows! were rationed, and did not do so much.

     I saw how things were going, and told the sheriff I was going home. He then asked me if I would make one of Lieutenant Eph. Hanks’ party to take the prisoner into Salt Lake. I agreed, and we started in the afternoon. Hanks was full of rum. The necessary supplies were laid in, which consisted of a few canteens of the same. We intended to travel forty miles before we slept, but when night came on it was very dark. The canteens made things lively until we came to some brush, when the prisoner, Elisha Ryan, shipped off his horse, and in an instant was in the brush out of sight. We searched for him an hour or two, and sent two of the party back to Fort Bridger, while Hanks and myself came on to the city and made our report. Hanks being one of the star boys, so looked up to, felt rather cheap when his rum gave out and he came to himself, on seeing what he had done.

     The posse went to Green River, shot two or three mountaineers, took several hundred head of stock, returned to Fort Bridger, and what whisky they could not drink they poured out, reserving, however, enough to keep them drunk until they got home. The property that was taken went to pay a few officers, and, as was said, the expenses of the posse; but, poor fellows, I never knew of one of them getting a dollar. It went to pay tithing; and, finally, all was gobbled up and turned over to the Church, and Hawley & Co. never got a cent. This did not suit him very well; but he had to stand it. and it sticks in his craw to this day. The old man tells some wonderful stories about that and other losses sustained by Church authority; but that is his history and not mine, and I will pass over it as I have, and will do, with many others; but, at the close of my history, I may give to you the manner in which several have been treated in financial affairs by those holding authority over them.

     That fall, after harvest, my horses were gathered and put into a field having probably seventy-five acres, which had not been cultivated, and bore the finest of grass. One morning my hired boy came in and told me Frenchy was gone, one of the finest little French horses I ever saw; his mane hanging to his knees, and his foretop to the end of his nose; a horse I had got the year before, and given a big price for him. I found him very gentle, and made my wife a present of him—that same good woman whom I have told you I courted and married when but a boy. He paced finely; she loved horseback riding, and with him could make a showing among a hundred horses.

     We found where the fence had been let down and the horse led out, and a man’s tracks. I sent for my horse, which was the best in the Territory, and put one of my hired men on the next best, and started. About noon we got his track, and were satisfied which way he had gone. We traveled at the rate of eight miles an hour, and just before sundown I saw my horse coming out of the swamps of Utah Lake, sixty miles from where we started. I was both mad and tired. The man on him hailed me and wanted to know if he could have our company south. I felt too indignant to speak. I rode up by his side and shot him through the head, took my horse and went home. I did not get off my horse to examine him. I never heard from him after. Whether he was found or buried I do not know.

     I was in the city a few days after, and, as in duty bound, made report to Brigham Young, who held the right of life-taking in his own hands, and nobody else, as we had often been told. He said I had done just right. I will here state that, while at Pacific Springs, on the South Pass, at my trading-post, among the emigration passing, one of my brothers came along, going to California. I had not seen him for twelve years, and did not know him. He had studied medicine, had his diploma, and was going to California to practice his profession. I, with much, persuasion, got him to stop and spend the winter with me; but before the winter was over, we Mormonized him and got him to join the Church. He has been here ever since, and is a good Mormon; but, poor fellow, he has never had but one wife, won’t practice medicine, lives on his farm, raises grain, attends to his stock, and goes along as though he was a stereotyped Christian indeed.

     I spent the most of my time that winter reading law-books. I also got the appointment of Deputy United States marshal under Marshal Joseph L. Heywood, he having been appointed by President Z. Taylor, which office I held until ’58, doing most of the Marshal’s business in the courts, and making all arrests of hard men. That winter, while Judge Shaffer’s court was in session, I made application for license to practice law, and a committee, with Almon W. Babbitt as foreman, was appointed to examine me. I was in attendance at the court acting as marshal and bailiff at the same time. The committee reported next morning favorable, after giving me what I thought was a pretty rigid examination, and I was licensed.

     That winter a new county was granted by the Legislature, taking in Green River Ferry, called Green River County. W. I. Appleby was appointed probate judge, with power to organize said county and appoint all necessary officers, who were to hold office until the next election.* From the time that those mountain men had had their property taken by the sheriff and his posse, very ill feelings had existed. Threats were made that they would have as much property out of the Mormons as they had lost by them. Some fears were entertained that they might bother the emigration the next fall, and Brigham Young wanted me to go and stay on Green River that summer, and, if possible, quiet them down in some way or other; and if I could not make peace with them any other way, pitch in and kill those that would not come to terms without, and especially Ryan (he was with the Indians, and would do us much harm, and must go up). This being my charge, I set out with Judge Appleby and Rev. Orson Hyde, who had charge of the new settlement, Fort Supply, twelve miles south of Fort Bridger. Our company consisted of fifteen, this being about the first of May, ’54, as soon as we could get across the mountains for snow.

(*See Appendix-B)

      Orson Hyde being the head of the Twelve, obedience was required to his commands, in the absence of Brigham Young, in all things, whether spiritual or temporal; and, in fact, the man who did not obey had better leave when he could, especially those who might refuse, or give any intimation of a dislike to things that elsewhere would be an open violation of law. But the satisfied point and undoubted fact that God had established His kingdom in the mountains, and Brigham was conversant with the Almighty, was a settled question. In all candor I say I do not think there was then in Utah one in fifty, or, I might say, one in a hundred, who did not believe it. This man Orson Hyde was sanguine in this belief, although there were some points in Brigham Young’s conduct he could not see through, but attributed it all, he said, to his inability to comprehend the ways of the Almighty. I have traveled with and talked to him on all these subjects.

      When we had got across what was known as the Big Mountain, and into East Cañon, some three or four miles, one Mr. Hartley came to us from Provo City. This Hartley was a young lawyer who had come to Salt Lake from Oregon the fall before, and had married a Miss Bullock, of Provo, a respectable lady of a good family. But word had come to Salt Lake (so said, I never knew whether it did or not), that he had been engaged in some counterfeiting affair. He was a fine-looking, intelligent young man. He told me he had never worked any in his life, and was going to Fort Bridger or Green River to see if he could not get a job of clerking, or something that he could do. But previous to this, at the April Conference, Brigham Young, before the congregation, gave him a tremendous blowing up, calling him all sorts of bad names, and saying he ought to have his throat cut, which made him feel very bad. He declared he was not guilty of the charges.

      I saw Orson Hyde looking very sour at him, and after he had been in camp an hour or two, Hyde told me that he had orders from Brigham Young, if he came to Fort Supply to have him used up. “Now,” said he, “I want you and George Boyd to do it.” I saw him, and Boyd talking together; then Boyd came to me and said: “It’s all right, Bill; I will help you to kill that fellow.” One of our teams was two or three miles behind, and Orson Hyde wished me to go back and see if anything had happened to it. Boyd saddled his horse to go with me, but Hartley stepped up and said he would go if Boyd would let him have his horse. Orson Hyde said: “Let him have your horse,” which Boyd did. Orson Hyde then whispered to me: “Now is your time; don’t let him come back.” We started, and about half a mile on had to cross the cañon stream, which was midsides to our horses. While crossing, Hartley got a shot and fell dead in the creek. His horse took fright and ran back to camp.

     I went on and met Hosea Stout, who told me the team was coming close by. I turned back, Stout with me, for our camp. Stout asked me if I had seen that fellow, meaning Hartley. I told him he had come to our camp, and he said from what he had heard he ought to be killed. I then told him all that had happened, and he said that was good. When I returned to camp Boyd told me that his horse came into camp with blood on the saddle, and he and some of the boys took it to the creek and washed it off. Orson Hyde told me that was well done; that he and some others had gone on the side of the mountain, and seen the whole performance. We hitched up and went to Weber River that day. When supper was over, Orson Hyde called all the camp together, and said he wanted a strong guard on that night, for that fellow that had come to us in the forenoon had left the company; he was a bad man, and it was his opinion that he intended stealing horses that night. This was about as good a take-off as he could get up, it was all nonsense; it would do well enough to tell; as everyone that did not know what had happened believed it.*
(*See Appendix-C)

Hanging Rock, Echo Cañon; near where Hickman, with his prisoner, Yates, was met by Joseph A.
Young, who said his father wanted Yates killed. Page 124.