Jack Harris arrived in the Washoe region of Nevada, as the Comstock was commonly called then, in 1859. Creating a life for himself in Carson City, Jack married and opened a saloon which he operated for several years.
     Having left California on a bad reputation as being a questionable and desperate character, and being suspect in various highway robberies, he was once again acquiring a similar reputation in Carson City.
     Usually working alone, he made a mistake on August 28, 1865, when he robbed the Pioneer Stage enroute from Placerville, CA to Virginia City with two other men named Moses P. Haines, A. P. Waterman and two other men known only as Pitcher and Love. Hitting a stage hauling a $14,000 payroll shipment destined for the Comstock district, they held it up near Silver City and made off with the cash without any problem.
     Wells, Fargo and Co. quickly offered a reward for the return of the money and the arrest and conviction of the robbers. Though the descriptions of the men were not very good, Harris and Moses Haines were arrested in Austin. After questioning a drifter named Red Smith, who provided some type of helpful information, the officers put pressure on Haines. The evidence was slim, had he held fast, the charges against them probably would have been dropped. However, Haines began to talk, identifying both Harris and A. P. Waterman.
     Waterman, who was found in possession of the plunder, was sentenced to serve 15 years in prison. With Haines talking, Harris knew he was in trouble, but he was good at making deals. He had a lot of information about other crimes and outlaws, which he soon traded for a light sentence. Though he was still sentenced to prison, he was released, after serving only a couple of months, due to the information that he provided. For some reason Harris was acquitted and he left the area shortly after the trial.
     Harris headed back east and to help finance his trip it is believed he held up another stage on October 7, 1865 at Six Mile Canyon, getting away with $2,300.
     His wife had left him after learning what kind of a person he really was and moved back in with her parents in Virginia City.
     Back east, in Washington, D.C. Jack Harris did okay for a while, even serving as a police detective. But he soon returned to the Pacific Coast, remaining on the Isthmus of Panama for several months.
     Before long he was returning to what he did best. On October 31, 1866 he robbed a stage at Geiger Grade. Taking $5,150 from the safe, he also robbed the passengers of several thousand dollars.
     Again, Wells, Fargo put up a reward of $9,000. But that didn’t stop Harris and his gang of highwaymen. On November 14, 1866 they robbed the tollhouse at American City getting away with a mere $500.
     In 1867 Harris once again opened a saloon in Austin in partnership with a notorious cattle thief and highwayman, Nicanor Rodriques.  Again he was wielding a double barreled shotgun at the Overland Stage. On June 10, 1868 he and his two partners robbed the passengers of over $4,000.  Moving to White Pine when mining opened up there, he opened yet another saloon in Hamilton. He moved back to Eureka in 1869, but it was such a small camp at that time and offered little for him, so he moved back to White Pine.
     1870. Hamilton City election day. Jack got into a street duel with Charles McIntyre. He caught a bullet in the right hand permanently disabling it.
     Once again Jack packed up and moved. In 1871 he found himself in the town of Pioche, NV, where he became mixed up in the lot and mine jumping troubles.
     Jack became involved in one of the bloodiest and most bizarre episodes in Pioche history. May 1871 found two mining companies in dispute over territory rights. Miners from the R & E – Raymond & Ely, Mining Co. and the Pioche Phoenix Mine ran into each other’s underground tunnels.
     The miners argued and threatened one another back and fourth until it finally erupted into gun play. Pistol balls and Henry rifle slugs ricocheted and sharp fragments of ore with the force of shrapnel hurled itself all about the tunnels. All in the confines of the choking atmosphere of black-powder smoke. The gun battle lasted 24 hours. About five men were killed and seven or eight wounded. And Jack? Jack seemed to have survived unblemished.
     It is believed Jack Harris’ last robbery took place near Spring Valley on October 26, 1872. Two highwaymen held up Lt. Col. M. N. Stone, a Democratic stump speaker who was traveling to make his speeches. They took his valuable watch and $55.
     Jack Harris. Highwayman, saloon keeper, career criminal. Now past his prime, he was not to meet his end at the hand of a lawman, or by the lucky shot of one of his many victims. After a short illness Jack Harris died in his bed at Pioche, May 1875.
     His companions, on the other hand, were not so lucky. Al P. Waterman who had accompanied him in the robbery of the Pioneer Stage in 1865 had been shot dead on Nov. 20, 1869 by Miles Goodman at Virginia City. Waterman had been the only one convicted of that stage hold-up and sentenced to 13 years. How he came to be where he was when he was killed is unknown.
     Mose Haynes also one of Jack’s partners in crime from the Pioneer Stage hold-up was shot dead on September 21, 1877 by W. H. Pierce at Tuscarora over a town lot property dispute. He had turned stat’s evidence in the stage hold-up.
     Harris had been many things throughout his life – a seaman, a miner, saloon owner, detective and highwayman. He is perhaps remembered today as a Jack of all trades, but master of only one – stagecoach robbery.
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In December 1868, Central Pacific Railroad construction workers laid rails into a northeast Nevada meadow next to the Humboldt River. CPRR officials selected the place as the eastern end of the Humboldt Division and named the town, Carlin.
        Brigadier General William Passmore Carlin, USA, was the community’s namesake. He was born in Rich Woods, Greene County, Illinois on November 24, 1829. Graduating in 1846 from the U.S. Military Academy, he served on the western frontier until the Civil War. One of his posts was Camp Floyd, Utah, about twenty-five miles south of Salt Lake City where he participated in an expedition against the Mormons. Carlin’s first journey into what would later be Nevada (Utah Territory at the time) was taking troops from Camp Floyd to Benecia, California. He served admirably during the Civil War fighting in Arkansas, Perryville, Knob Gap, Stone River, Chickamauga, Lookout Mountain, Bentonville, Missionary Ridge, Chattanooga, Buzzard’s Roost, and the capture of Atlanta. After the war General Carlin served in several positions until his retirement in May 1893 when he settled in Montana dying four months later. CPRR track layers didn’t stay long in the new town. They continued east toward Elko and to Promontory, Utah Territory to meet the Union Pacific Railroad in May 1869, to complete the first transcontinental railroad in the nation.
        A roundhouse and railroad car shops were built. Stores and homes grew from the sagebrush and streets were laid out. Townspeople were collecting money to build a toll bridge across the Humboldt. There was even talk of building a school house, bringing in a teacher, and churches coming to town. Civilization was fast coming to the place.
        A dance was planned to celebrate. The upper crust of the community turned out in their finest and most fashionable clothes. It was a grand party. Then the fertilizer hit the fan. Someone saw that the red-light district ladies were there. That was a no, no. One of the merchants took it upon himself to inform the girls that they and their companions had not been invited and would have to leave. The ladies of the night and their men friends left in a huff. The dance continued - it was a success!
       But the incident did not die that evening. The next day, the merchant was lured into an empty building and was unmercifully beaten by friends of the prostitutes. Then, the attackers had the audacity to tack up notices around town for the businessman to leave town or be shot. That’s pretty blatant, so much so that the other people in Carlin were furious. An angry vigilante committee was formed and their actions were thorough - they pounded on doors and smashed windows. The vigilantes rounded up all the hurdy gurdy gals and those associated with them. A large wagon had been bought and the undesirables and their belongings were loaded, pointed in the direction of White Pine and sent on their way with a warning to never return.
       Carlin citizens had gotten rid of their dregs of society. Civilization had arrived in the little six months old town on the banks of Humboldt.

Sources:
Pioneer Nevada, Volume Two, published by Harolds Club, Reno, 1956;
Nevada’s Northeast Frontier, Edna Patterson, Louise Ulph Beebe, and Victor Goodwin, 1969.
Source: http://outbacknevada.us/hickson/index.html                                                                                                   BACK TO THE TOP

Major Howard Egan was a big name in the American West. He was manager of the Overland Stage stations from Salt Lake City to Sacramento. He demanded the best from all his people and expected even better from his son. Major Egan assigned his offspring the job of driving about fifty head of cattle and hauling a full ton of supplies to Fort Ruby in northeastern Nevada.
        Six oxen pulled the heavily loaded wagon. It was an uneventful journey until the road crossed a usually dry alkali lake near the Fort. It was no longer dry but a sea of deep oozing mud. He saw three abandoned stage coaches out about one half mile. The youngster figured he couldn't go around it. The only thing to do was hope the strong oxen could haul the wagon across the mud.
        Cracking his whip and verbally bullying the animals, the bull whacker coaxed them out onto the flat where the oxen soon were belly deep in the muck. The wagon was riding on its bed. Egan’s outfit could go no farther.
        Young Egan studied the problem. His men thought he was a bit crazy when he ordered them to untie the heavy canvas covering from the freight wagon. They spread the canvas flat next to the wagon and loaded some of the supplies onto it. The canvas ends were pulled up then roped at the top. Other ropes were added and attached to the ox yokes. Yelling a few profanities punctuated with whip cracks the teamster got the animals moving. The canvas rig easily slid across the mud.
        It took several trips across the mire and onto dry land but the supplies were finally safe. The men trudged back to the wagon. Egan told them to take the wagon apart and put the parts on the canvas sled. Load by load of wagon parts was moved across the flat until every piece was on shore.
       There was no rest for the crew. They put the wagon back together and loaded the supplies. Without washing up, they finished the trip to Fort Ruby. Sentries at Fort Ruby were amazed when they sighted Egan and his party. The men were mud encrusted, as were the cattle, wagon, horses, and saddles. It was a mess but every man had a big grin on his face. They had done the impossible - with some darned good ideas from a teenager. It's a shame that the kid's first name has been lost or omitted from historical records.

Source: Pioneer Nevada, Volume Two, Thomas C. Wilson, published by Harolds Club of Reno, 1956.
Source: http://outbacknevada.us/hickson/index.html                                                                                                BACK TO THE TOP

       On February 26, 1911, a desperate battle raged between a posse of the Nevada State Police and a nomadic band of Indians lead by a chief later known as “Shoshone Mike”. This battle was the result of an attempt to capture members of the band wanted for the murder of four stockmen. The hunt started in Little High Rock Canyon of the Black Rock Desert on February 13, 1911 and progressed for several weeks on horseback across northern Nevada.
       In the spring of 1910, a small band of Bannock Indians lead by an Indian known as “Mike” left the camp at Rock Creek, Idaho and headed south toward the Nevada desert. For the next several months they wandered westward as far as Oroville, California. After a short stay there, they headed east again, choosing to winter in the Little High Rock Canyon.
       It was here that “Mike” decided to augment their scant winter stores with some local cattle. Unfortunately, they were discovered by one of the local sheepherders, Bert Indiano. When word of the slaughtered cattle got back to Surprise Valley, California, Harry Cambron, Peter Erramouspe, and John Laxague traveled to Camp Denio to join Bert Indiano. They left there headed for the area where the butchered stock had been found.
       After not being heard from for several weeks, a rescue party was sent out from Eagleville, California to search for the stockmen. On February 8, 1911, the bodies of the missing men were found in the bottom of Little High Rock Canyon. They had been brutally murdered; a mustache was cut off one body; the eyelid of another was missing, as were the gold tooth fillings of the men.
       Since the location of the crime was in Washoe County, Nevada jurisdiction, the Sheriff from Reno was notified along with the county coroner and physician. Sheriff Charles Ferrel requested Nevada Governor Oddie to dispatch State Police officers to assist him. Captain J.P. Donnelly and three State Police officers arrived in Alturus, California on a special train to take charge of the investigation. On February 13, 1911, a coroner’s inquest was held at the crime scene. A State Police posse was formed and set out to locate the band of nomads that were thought to be responsible for the murders. So started the chase across the frozen lands of northern Nevada during one of the worst winters on record.
       Thirteen days later and approximately 200 miles east of the site where the bodies were found, the posse caught up with the band of twelve nomads. In an area northeast of Winnemucca known as Kelly Creek, a battle between the posse and the nomads ensued in the early morning hours of February 26, 1911. At the end of the fight, eight of the fugitives, including women and children, were dead: one posse member, Ed Hogle, was fatally wounded and four of the band were taken prisoner. The four captives included one adult female and three small children. After the coroner’s inquest at the scene of the battle, the eight bodies of “Mike's" band were all buried in a common grave dug out of the frozen earth by dynamite. Spread across the battleground was weapons and personal gear belonging to the four stockmen from Surprise Valley.
       A reward had been offered for the capture of the suspects and all the members of the posse expected to share in the bounty. However, since it was a State Police Posse that caught the fugitives the Governor refused to pay the rewards. It was years before the case was settled in the Supreme Court in favor of the posse members.

Sources:
Mack, Effie Mona The Indian Massacre of 1911, Sparks: Western Printing and Publishing Company, 1968.
Hyde, Doyle The Last Free Man, New York: The Dial Press 1973
The Humboldt Star, February 28, 1911
Carson City News, February 28, 1911
Nevada State Police Report to the Legislature 1911-1913
Smith v. State, Nevada Supreme Court, 38th Nevada, July 1915                                                              BACK TO THE TOP

It may have been the early English highwaymen who said it most eloquently: "Stand and Deliver" a common catch phrase when demanding money and valuables from waylaid travelers along the roadways.
In what was possibly the last strong box robbery from a stagecoach for Wells, Fargo & Company the demand was not so eloquent.ⁱ  The robbery took place June 13, 1908, on the road between Schurz and Rawhide, Nevada. Two men, armed with revolvers, jumped from behind a rock and shouted "hands up" to the driver and his two passengers aboard the Day and Kano stagecoach. They demanded the strong box that belonged to Wells, Fargo & Company, and after ordering the stage driver to drive on, they began to pry open the box.ⁱⁱ  Recent research into this event has revealed some intriguing facts about this little known, but historic robbery.
      The early morning air was still crisp as stagecoach driver Tony Kano hitched up his team of six horses for the run from Schurz to Rawhide about 273 miles. He knew the summer sun would quickly and heat the desert between there and Rawhide. Distant clouds offered only a thin hope of relief - maybe a late afternoon rain shower.ⁱⁱⁱ    As Kano finished with the team of horses Wells, Fargo Agent Charles Covell, loaded the locked express box onto the stage, sliding it under the driver's seat. The passenger compartment was filled with fresh fruit and vegetables, packages for local Rawhide merchants and mail, leaving no room for passengers or the express box. Kano’s, two passengers and the express box would be riding atop the coach this trip.
       The two passengers both arrived in Schurz via train from opposite directions. Young Ernest Eagon arrived from Goldfield earlier that morning headed to Rawhide in search of work. Miss Rebecca Barrett had traveled from San Francisco enroute to Rawhide to visit her brother before her return to England. Shortly after 7:00 a.m., with his coach loaded and passengers seated next to him, Kano set out for the stage company's halfway station.
       After stopping for lunch, Kano and his passengers continued to Rawhide. The landscape they rode through was desolate and uninhabited desert covered with stubby sagebrush and greasewood bushes. As the stage approached the upper end of the Regent District, Kano slowed for a curve in the road.^iv    Briefly, the three watched a stray dog running alongside the coach in pursuit of a rabbit. All of a sudden two heads popped up from behind a large rock outcrop near the trail. Two men stepped forward. The short one wore a sackcloth over his head and the tall one wore a black silk handkerchief over his face. They each trained a revolver on the stage and ordered, "Hands up!" Kano brought the six horses to a stop. The tall man with the handkerchief over his face demanded to know what the stage carried besides mail. Kano replied, "The Wells, Fargo." The bandit ordered him to "Throw it down." Once the strong box was on the ground the men then asked for water. Both highwaymen drank from Kano's canteen and returned it with a polite "thank you." One of them looked under the stage flap at the rear of the coach and then ordered Kano to "drive on." Just down the road, Miss Barrett looked back and saw the men prying open the strong box with a chisel.^iv  His passengers now safe from harm, Kano covered the six remaining miles to Rawhide as rapidly as possible.
       Even before the robbery, Rawhide was less than a peaceful spot. Captain W. L. Cox, superintendent of the Nevada State Police (NSP), had just arrived from Nevada's capitol, Carson City, on June 9th. He had been dispatched by Governor Sparks to resolve a general strike called by the miners. They were protesting earlier actions against them and some local businessmen by officers of the state police.
       Once word of the robbery reached Rawhide, a posse of lawmen and local citizens and lawmen was quickly organized and then set out in search of the bandits. Captain Cox took charge of the investigation immediately.^v  Deputy Sheriffs and state police officers returned to the robbery scene with the aid of several citizens and their automobiles. Other lawmen headed out to the settlements of Fallon and Manhattan to search for the bandits - some on horseback, some in roadsters and touring cars.^vi
       Following directions to the robbery site, NSP Sergeants William Otts and J. R. Hunter, along with Private Templeton, Private Anderson and Officer H. W. Lane arrived to examine the crime scene. Along the stage trail they found the Wells, Fargo strong box.  It had been pried open and emptied.
       They followed two sets of boot tracks away from the box to the top of a nearby hill. There they found evidence that two men had lain in wait with a commanding view of the stage trail. In the sand, they found two empty beer bottles, one broken. Officer Lane spotted a bit of tissue paper sticking out of the dirt a short distant down the trail. It turned out to be the wrapping paper, for two of the packages the strong box had held. These were open, but their contents - diamonds - were still in their small boxes.
       Captain Cox arrived at the scene accompanied by R. D. Pickett, a land surveyor from Rawhide. With pertinent detail, Pickett mapped the vicinity of the robbery site producing a crime scene sketch for the state police.
       When Sgt. Otts finished at the robbery site he traveled on to the halfway station and then to Schurz, where he talked to Robert C. Dyer, the merchant at the Indian trading post. Dyer told him that two men had visited the trading post on June 9^th hoping to borrow money. They claimed to have been prospecting near Wabuska and told him about losing their team of mules. The smaller of the two men wore a badge of bright metal on his vest and claimed to be a deputy sheriff. Since they were broke, they pawned a gun with Dyer for five dollars. The fellow with the badge had Dyer send a telegram to Rawhide.
       Sgt. Otts also talked with Charles Covell, the stage agent in Schurz. Covell told Otts that he had provided two men with tickets for the stage that departed for Rawhide on June 10^th. One of the two identified himself as a deputy sheriff from Goldfield and showed Covell his badge. Covell recognized the other man. They were brothers in the same fraternal order. The men said that they would make their headquarters at the Claiborne Hotel in Rawhide, and would arrange to pay for the tickets when they arrived. Feeling comfortable with these two, Covell allowed them to ride C.O.D.
       The next morning, Sgt. J. R. Hunter headed south over the mountains from Rawhide to Walker, then down to Double Springs and back to the halfway station. There he contacted W. C. Stubler who worked and lived at the station. Stubler informed the Sergeant that two strangers had arrived at the halfway station on the morning of the robbery. They drove a hack drawn by two Roan horses. On credit the men bought breakfast and feed for their horses. They told Stubler they would be prospecting in the Red Mountain area, several miles from the halfway station. These men left the team and hack with Stubler and started out on foot. Stubler said he prepared them a lunch of two sandwiches and water in two soda or beer bottles. To follow up on this information, Sgt. Hunter gave one of the horses from the strangers' team to Officer Templeton who had arrived by auto from Rawhide. He instructed Templeton to continue the search for the robbers on horse back. Hunter would wait at the halfway station for the return of the so called prospectors.
       Later that day, one of the two men walked out of the desert into the halfway station. Promptly, he was at odds with the station master: "What God dam Son of a Bitch of a State Police took my horse?"  The stranger was soon standing face to face with Sgt. Hunter, had on his hand on his gun, a colt revolver in a holster at his side. Sgt. Hunter explained that the horse was being used to search for the stage robbers. The man became less belligerent and introduced himself to as Hunter that he was James Bliss, a Deputy Sheriff from Goldfield. He showed Hunter his badge, a five pointed star with ball tips.
       Tension resurfaced when Bliss demanded to know if Sgt. Hunter intended to confiscate his gun. Not having to surrender his firearm, Bliss told Hunter he and his friend William Walters, had been prospecting in the nearby mountains, and now he was headed back to Rawhide. Bliss paid for the meals and horse feed from the day before with a ten dollar gold piece, then set out for Rawhide with Sgt. Hunter.
       Information about the two hapless prospectors in Schurz was relayed to Captain Cox in Rawhide. This helped the State Police determine that these fellows rented a cabin a couple days earlier from Ed Gosslein, a Rawhide real estate agent.   They then rented a wagon and two horses from the Pioneer corral on June 12^th. The men told the owner of the corral of their mining claims about twelve miles east of Schurz. With the hack and team they planned to check on their claims.
       When Sgt. Hunter returned from the halfway station with Bliss, he made his report to Captain Cox. Based on the information gathered from Schurz and Rawhide about Bliss and Walters, Cox ordered the two men arrested for the stagecoach robbery. The next morning, the State Police took the pair into custody and turned them over to the local Deputy Sheriff. They were promptly locked up in the Rawhide jail.
       Sgt. Otts retrieved Walters' boots from the jail. Their sole leather was torn away exposing the boot nails. With a greater taste for fashion than for comfort, Bliss purchased a new set of boots after returning to Rawhide. Otts checked with the local merchants and found that Bliss had bought the new boots from Simonds. The merchant still had Bliss' old boots at his shop. With both pair of boots, Otts returned to the site of the robbery, where he matched Walter's boots with seventeen prints of tracks made by the one of the bandits. The distinctive, nail-riddled sole made Otts' task easy, it left a distinct impression in the dirt. Bliss' boots also had a unique characteristic. There was a large "V" or wedge on one of the heels that matched four of the shoe prints found at the scene.^vii The earliest reports of the robbery indicated that the bandits made off with $12,000 in payroll for the mines. The Coalition Company was supposed to have lost $7,000.^iv However, by the time the preliminary hearing was held on June 18^th, 1908, the record of the contents of the express box had been reduced considerably. One of the witnesses was W. P. Talbott, Assistant Agent for the Southern Pacific Railway at Schurz. It was his duty to handle the "express box" for Wells, Fargo before it was transferred to the stagecoach company. He testified that the contents included: three small boxes, valued at $1,210 total; a box addressed to the Rawhide Press Times, with a C.O.D. of $7.80; letters of expense and several items of personal correspondence.^vii It was not unusual for Wells, Fargo & Company to understate their loss in a robbery to maintain credibility with their customers. This possibly was the case with this stage robbery. Wells, Fargo detectives stayed on the case well after the recovery of the property and the preliminary hearing.^viii
       During the hearing in Rawhide, Justice of the Peace H. F. Brede heard from additional witnesses. Their testimony provided circumstantial evidence which linked Bliss and Walters to the robbery. State Police had presented evidence collected at the site of the robbery and from the suspects. Also admitted into evidence was the map prepared by R. D. Pickett, the surveyor employed by Captain Cox. The map showed detailed information about the location and terrain at the site of the robbery.^vii   The closest thing to a positive identification of the robbery suspects was the testimony of the 19 year-old stage passenger, Ernest Eagon. Sgt. Hunter had escorted him to the Rawhide jail where he got a look at the suspects, Bliss and Walters. Eagon testified that the tall man he had seen in the jail cell (Walters) had the same eyes as the masked stage robber.^vii
       Wells, Fargo & Company was so interested in this case they sent one of their senior detectives to monitor the hearing. Special Officer Cornelius Cain arrived in Rawhide from San Francisco shortly after the robbery and was present during the proceedings. Cain later provided Sheriff W. A. Ingalls of Esmeralda County with considerable information regarding James Bliss and his criminal history. He prepared a written synopsis of the testimony at the hearing and forwarded it to Ingalls. Cain's correspondence with the Sheriff revealed that Wells, Fargo was very anxious to see Bliss and Walters prosecuted for this robbery.^ix
       Based on the evidence, of June 22^nd, 1908, Justice of the Peace H. F. Brede ordered James Bliss and W. M. Walters "held to answer" and setting bail at $1,500 each. He then turned over the case to the Esmeralda County District Attorney who would then have to present the case to the county grand jury in Goldfield.^x   Sheriff Ingalls' deputies transferred Bliss and Walters from the Rawhide jail to the jail in Goldfield and since neither man could make bail, they were both held there pending further court appearances.
     Though the Goldfield jail was hardly a year old, William Walters apparently found it not to his taste. On August 1, 1908, Walters and four other inmates staged an unsuccessful jail break. Surprisingly, Bliss was not among them. Obliging the conspirator's pleas, Jailer Jack Hart fetched donuts for them. As he opened the jail door to the lower corridor the prisoners attacked him. Jailer Hart was hit over the head with his heavy set of door keys knocking him to the floor. Fortunately, Sheriff Ingalls saw to it that two deputies were on duty whenever prisoners were out of their cells. Deputy Pete Brechelsen was close at hand. Before any of the prisoners could exit the corridor, Deputy Brechelsen jumped in and leveled his gun at them. The hapless jailer called for him to shoot. Instead the Deputy beat Walters over the head with his pistol. The other prisoners backed off and headed for their cells. Suddenly, two came back out toward Brechelsen, and were promptly met with the same fate as Walters. Walters and the others were eventually charged with attempted escape from a county jail.^xi  During their preliminary hearing, Bliss became a witness for the prosecution, testifying against Walters and the others.^xii
       On September 5^th, 1908, the Esmeralda County Grand Jury returned a "True Bill", indicting Bliss and Walters for the "crime of Robbery." Bail of $5,000 was set for each defendant.^xiii  Neither Walters nor Bliss had the means to make bail and it looked like they would stay behind bars until their trial date.^xiii
       Oddly, Bliss was already familiar with the Goldfield jail just not as an inmate. Under the name of Thomas Bliss, he had, in fact, served as a Deputy Sheriff in 1907 and 1908.^xiv   As deputy sheriff in Goldfield, Bliss had been a key witness in the Preston and Smith murder trial in 1907. This case stirred the call for federal troops by mine owners to prevent union violence. The deployment of troops in Goldfield rapidly lead to the formation of the Nevada State Police, established by the Nevada Legislature in January of 1908.^xv  The state lawmen served in Goldfield and later in Rawhide to maintain order between the miners and businessmen. Since the Smith and Preston murder trial ultimately gave rise to the Nevada State Police, Bliss' testimony in that infamous case, in a sense, begot the very lawmen who later apprehended him.
       The irony does not stop here. The Smith and Preston trial shook loose the first tantalizing hints that there was more to Deputy Sheriff Bliss than met the badge. A defense witness told the court that Bliss was not a mine owner from Utah as he claimed. Bliss was actually C. L. "Gunplay" Maxwell, a member of Butch Cassidy's Wild Bunch. In fact, several of Goldfield's citizens knew of Bliss' reputation as an outlaw but they overlooked it at the trial, benefitting from his perjured testimony. Bliss continued in his role as a Deputy Sheriff for a short time after the Smith and Preston trial.^xv
       Shortly after Bliss' robbery indictment, he wrote a letter to his wife, Bessie, in San Francisco. In this letter he bragged that if he had made bail he could have sent her a considerable amount of money. He told her that his bail should have been posted by those who were supposedly his friends but they made his situation their pleasure. He hinted of personal details of his background, but evidently couldn't bring himself to tell her.^xvi  Bliss may have had in mind his previous criminal activities or his relationship with the mine owners after his perjured testimony at the Preston and Smith trial.^xiv
       On September 31, 1908, Bliss wrote another letter to his wife. He told her that the "unexpected had happened" - someone had posted bail for him and he was "once again enjoying freedom." He said he would wait for his trial date to be set and then head for San Francisco. It is unknown how he signed his first letters to his wife, but this letter was signed "Clarence L. Seaman", one of his many aliases. He was seen later in the fall in San Francisco living well and sporting a number of jewels on his vest. While Bliss was in San Francisco, his activities were monitored by agents of the Wells, Fargo & Company.^xxvii
       Bliss was never tried for the stagecoach robbery. The only mention of him jumping bail was printed in the "Goldfield Daily Tribune." There was no mention about him being allowed to leave the area. Evidently, no attempt was made to return him to Goldfield for trial. By perjuring himself in their behalf at the Preston and Smith trial, Bliss may have tried to hold the Mine Owners' Association and Citizens' Alliance of Goldfield hostage. As a result members of this organization including George Wingfield, a prominent Nevadan, may have been disinclined to have Bliss prosecuted or interfere with his personal life.^xiv
       Like Bliss, Walters did not stand trial for the stage robbery. However, Walters stayed more familiar with prison than Bliss. Walters was convicted on February 20, 1909, for "Attempt to escape from a County jail." On March 5, 1909, he was sentenced to four years in the Nevada State Prison in Carson City, Nevada.^xviii   During his incarceration there, he asked for clemency or a pardon from the Board of Pardons, but was refused. The District Attorney from Esmeralda County commented that Walters was lucky he didn't receive a longer sentence because of his lead role in the attempted escape.^xix
       In 1912, Captain J. P. Donnelley of the Nevada State Police tried to have Walters stand trial for the stagecoach robbery before his release from prison. Donnelley wrote several letters to both District Attorneys of Esmeralda County and Mineral County in an effort to convince them to bring Walters to trial, although his efforts were not successful.^xx   Nevada State Police criminal history records revealed that William Peter Walters was born in Minnesota and was a resident of Grass Valley, California. He apparently had spent some time in Montana, as one of his letters of recommendation for pardon came from a fraternal organization called Shoshone Tribe No. 1 Improved Order of Red Men from Butte, Montana.^xxi   He was released from prison in 1912. Oddly enough, had Bliss spent as much time behind bars, he would have possibly fared better than he did.
        Bliss was born about 1860, probably in Boston, to a family that owned a hotel. Sometime around 1875, he killed a friend in a bar room brawl. To avoid arrest, he fled westward settling in Wyoming. There he worked for several large cattle companies as a cowboy and a gunfighter.^xxii   He was eventually convicted of grand larceny in Wyoming in 1893, and served three years in the state penitentiary. C. L. Maxwell was the name he was known by during his trial and incarceration. It was during this prison stay that he first met Butch Cassidy. They served a year and a half in prison together and were released within a week of each other. After leaving Wyoming, Bliss headed for Utah where he continued his criminal association with Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch Gang.^xxiii    In 1898, still using the name Maxwell, he was convicted of bank robbery in Springfield, Utah and sentenced to five years in the State Prison.^xxiiv His sentence was commuted and, after release from prison, he went to work as a mine guard during a strike in Carbon County, Utah.^xxv From there he drifted to Goldfield, where he became a Deputy Sheriff using the name Thomas Bliss. In late winter of 1907, he presented himself in San Francisco as William H. Seaman "a descendent of one of the oldest titled families in Italy." He eventually married the wealthy widow, Bessie Hume. Bliss returned to Reno for his honeymoon and possibly was in Rawhide using the name Seaman. In October of 1908, after making bail on the stagecoach robbery charge, he joined his wife in San Francisco but didn't stay long. He left San Francisco and by all accounts his wife, Bessie, in the summer of 1909.^xiv
       Bliss later showed up in Price, Utah, the same territory where he had tried so hard to be an outlaw.^xxvi  During the appeal of the Preston and Smith murder case to impeach Bliss' testimony, attorney Orrin Nelson Hilton did extensive research into Bliss' background. Hilton had been hired by the Western Federation of Miners to represent the defendants. Hilton determined that shortly after Bliss returned to Price, he began planning a payroll robbery. The coal companies, having been tipped off, determined to thwart Bliss' plans ordered Deputy Sheriff Edward Black Johnson to stop him. Johnson and Bliss' paths had crossed twice before, once in Utah after Bliss was released from prison and again in Goldfield, Nevada. Here Johnson had tried to discredit Bliss' testimony against Walters by telling the judge that Bliss was actually an outlaw from Utah.
       Johnson's mission, in fact, was to kill Bliss at the earliest opportunity.^xxvii  True to form, Bliss made the Deputy Sheriff's job simple. Bliss became involved in an argument with a local railroad detective, Thomas Barge. Using this as a pretext for a confrontation, Johnson met Bliss on the street in Price. Words were exchanged gunfire ensued, and Bliss lay dying on the ground and before he died he recognized Johnson.^xxvii   So ended the criminal career and life of James Bliss a.k.a. C. L. "Gunplay" Maxwell, a.k.a. William the Seaman.
       At the time of the stagecoach robbery, Rawhide was a booming mining town that was more "boom" than mining. Its fame was short lived and it soon declined to become one of Nevada's obscure ghost towns. The west was in a period of transition. Automobiles would soon replace the horse and buggy. The telephone would replace the telegraph. Scientific forensic methods such as finger prints, firearm identification and the collection of physical evidence were being studied and increasingly applied in the field of criminal investigations. Although, the 1908 holdup was not the last stagecoach robbery in Nevada, it was probably the last strong box stage robbery the Wells, Fargo & Company would experience. The days of the highwaymen of the Old West were drawing to a close. Nevada and America were moving headlong into the Twentieth Century and stagecoach robberies would soon be replaced by more modern methods of relieving individuals and businesses of their money and valuables.

Endnotes
i           - Lusius Beebe and Charles Cleg, U.S. West, the Stage of Wells, Fargo, (New York E. P. Dutton Co., 1949) 310
ii         - State of Nevada v. James Bliss, W.M. Walters, Justice Court of Rawhide Township, County of Esmeralda, 22 June 1908.
             Preliminary hearing transcript, County Clerks Office, Case #83 (513).
iii        - Report of weather, Mina, NV, 13 June 1908, NV State Climatologist, UNR.
iv        - Rawhide Rustler [NV], 13 June 1908, at 1, col. 2.
v         - Capt. Cox had arrived in Rawhide from Carson City June 9, 1908 to help settle a dispute between the NV State Police officers
             and the local miners and businessmen.  Carson City [Nevada] 9 June 1908, at 1 col. 6
vi        - Beebe and Cleg, U.S. West, 310.
vii       - State of Nevada v. James Bliss, W.M. Walters. Preliminary hearing transcript.
viii      - Richard Johnson, interview with author, 1992.   Collection of materials relating to Thomas O. Bliss (private), Carson City, NV.
ix       - Cornelius Cain, letter to W.A. Ingalls, Sheriff, Goldfield, NV. 30 Oct. 1908, Manuscript collection, Bancroft Library, Univ. of CA.
            Berkeley, CA., P-G258.
x        - State of NV v. James Bliss, W.M. Walters.   Justice Court Commitment - Held to answer robbery, 22 June 1908.
xi       - Goldfield Chronicle [Nevada], 1 August 1908, at 1 col. 1.
xii      - Guy Rocha and Sally Zanjani, The Ignoble Conspiracy.   Nevada: Oniversity of Nevada Press, 134
xiii     - State of NV v. W.M. Walters and James Bliss, First Judicial District of NV (Goldfield), indictment for robbery, 5 September 1908.
xiv     - Rocha and Zanjani, The Ignoble Conspiracy, 132
xv      - Rocha and Zanjani, The Ignoble Conspiracy, 82-84 Papers of Governor John Sparks, NV State Archives.
xvi     - Clarence Seaman, letter to Bessie, no date, manuscript collections, Bancroft lib. UC Berkeley, P-G 258
xvii    - Richard Johnson interview 1992
xviii   - State of NV v. W.M. Walters, District Court, 7th Judicial District Conviction and Commitment notice, 5 March 1909
xix     - W. Walters, letter to Board of Pardons, 29 September 1909.   Augustus Tinden, Esmeralda D.A., to W. Walters, NV State Prison
           Record No. 1239, NV State Archives, Carson City.
xx      - Supt. J.P. Donnelley, NV State Police, letter to J. Emmett Walsh, 30 January 1912.  J. Emmett Walsh, letter to Supt J.P.
           Donnelley, NV State Police, 31 January 1912.  J.P. Donnelley, letter to H.E. Breed, 2 February 1912.  NV State Prison Records,
           NV State Archives, Carson City, No. 1239.
xxi     - Albert M. Glinney, letter to Pardons Board, 8 December 1910, NV State Prison Records, NV State Archives, No. 1249.
xxii    - R. Johnston, "The Outlaw & The Jewel Thief," Nat'l Ass. and Center for Outlaw & Lawman History, Vol. III, 3 Winter, 1977-78, 5.
xxiii   - R. Johnston, "The Robbery That Was to Have Been,"Nat'l Ass. and Ctr for Outlaw & Lawman History, Vol. IV, No. 4 June 1979, 10.
xxiv   - Arthur Pratt, Warden Utah State Prison, letter to George Curtis, manuscript Collections Bancroft Lib, UC Berkeley, P-G 258
xxv    - Charles Kelly, The Outlaw Trail (1938 reprint, New York: Devin-Adair Co, 1959) 185
xxvi   - R. Johnston, "Ed Johnson Kills 'Gunplay' Maxwellf," Nat'l Ass. and Ctr for Outlaw & Lawman History, Vol VII, No. 1, Spring 1981.
xxvii  - Rocha and Zanjani, The Ignoble Conspiracy, 132-134
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In 1875 a number of incendiary fires following in rapid succession caused great excitement in Carson City and the streets were patrolled by armed men at night.  Several hard characters suspected of complicity in these incendiary fires were ordered to leave the city and all but one obeyed the summons.  The one who paid no attention to the warning of the "601" was a baseball player who was in the habit of sleeping in the engine house of the Curry Co.  He was taken from his bed by a party of masked men on the night of the 16th of December, 1875, and hanged from the cross-beam of the cemetery gate.  On his breast was pinned a placard bearing the simple inscription "601".  It is claimed that some of the leading citizens of Carson were in this necktie party and it is the general belief that an innocent man was hanged.

Adopted from the book: History of Nevada Vol. II 1913                                                                                            BACK TO THE TOP

       On the day of February 21, 1940 the headlines in the Las Vegas Review-Journal read BODY OF INDIAN FOUND.  This sparked memories for many in the town of the first murder this dead Indian had committed at Timber Mountain 30 years ago, just a few miles away from Searchlight in the McCullough Range.
         Queho, a local southern Nevada Indian, had worked at various menial jobs throughout the Searchlight area.  He had been cutting wood for J.M. Woodworth, a timber and firewood contractor who had refused to pay him.   This made Queho fly into a rage and he beat the man to death with a piece of timber.  This was the first murder of what was to become a thirty year odyssey.
         Queho soon struck again.  The second murder took place near the  Gold Bug Mine, near the river in Eldorado Canyon.   The Gold Bug Mine was co-owned by Frank Rockefeller, brother to John D. Rockefeller.  Sometime later, Queho admitted to Canyon Charlie, a Indian elder nearly a hundred years old, that he had killed the mine's night watchman, his former employer.   The second murder occurred on the route between the Crescent area, where the woodcutter was killed, and the river.
         The local law thought they would have no trouble at all catching

Queho, who they considered to be just a little more than a ignorant savage.  They couldn't have been more than wrong.  Queho stole a horse from a man named Cox and the chase was on.  
         It was assumed by many that Queho would be easy to track, since he dragged one  leg as a result of an earlier injury.  The search party was  led by the operator of the Eldorado mine, a lawyer educated in Washington, DC, James Babcock.  Along with a contingent of lawmen from Las Vegas, Indian trackers and an Indian agent named DeCrevecoeur.
         The posse tracked Queho over 200 miles ranging from Crescent to Nipton, even working their way toward Pahranagat Valley, 150 miles to the north.  Running short on supplies, and growing weary, the posse gave up the pursuit.   At this point they began to believe this Indian was more cunning and smart than they gave him credit for.  Maybe he wasn't quite the "dumb" savage they had believed.

The first part was adopted from the book: Searchlight The Camp That Didn't Fall, 1998

The following is from the Las Vegas Review-Journal The First 100 People Who Shaped Southern Nevada web site

One afternoon, a local miner came into a clearing near Timber Mountain and there, seated on a rock, his .30-30 rifle across his lap, was the "ignorant savage" himself. Fred Pine, who had known Queho in Las Vegas, greeted him in his most amiable tone of voice. Queho responded in kind, no animosity in his voice. So they did lunch. Pine dug out a bag of sandwiches, and passed some of them to Queho. When he had finished, Queho told Pine that he, too, wanted to share his lunch, and produced a dried rodent of some sort. Pine gracefully declined. After about a half-hour, he decided to try and make an exit. He said good-bye and walked away, expecting to be felled at any moment. He wasn't.
       "I guess he just wasn't in a killing mood that day," Pine later recalled.
       If the newspapers were to be believed, he got into a "killing mood" again in 1913, when a 100-year-old blind Indian known as Canyon Charlie was found dead, a pickax wound in his head.
       In recalling the crime, the Las Vegas Evening Review-Journal of 1938 waxed sensational:
       "Charlie's meager supply of food was gone; mute testimony of the terrifying fact that this ghost-like maniac would kill for anything -- or nothing -- since he might easily have stolen the old man's belongings without resorting to murder." The fact is, this crime probably wasn't Queho's. The elder in question, Canyon Charlie, was his friend and confidant.
       Within the next two months, two more miners who were working claims at Jenny Springs on the Arizona side of the river, were found dead, shot in the back. Their provisions and personal items were taken. Shortly after that, an Indian woman was found dead, still clutching a bundle of the wood she had been gathering. She hadn't been robbed. Queho got the blame. He was also accused of slaying one James Patterson, who turned up some days later unhurt, though Reid says that during the course of the search for Patterson, another man had been found murdered. Queho got credit for his demise, too.
       As Queho hysteria grew, large rewards were offered for the villain's capture, eventually reaching $2,000. And the Searchlight Bulletin reminded its readers of the principle that guided most European/American Indian relations in the 19th century.
       "A good Indian is a dead Indian," it thundered.
       Between 1915 and 1919, Queho kept his head down. Even so, anytime a prospector disappeared in the desert, or a miner spent too long at the bar and fell asleep, and his wife began to panic, the demonic name of Queho was invoked.
       He was the bogeyman. Child won't behave? Tell him Queho will get him if he isn't good.
       On a cold January day in 1919, two prospectors named Hancock and Taylor set out from their camp near St. Thomas on the Muddy River, upstream from Eldorado Canyon. They left behind a third man, Brown, who was ill. Two days later, a neighbor stopped by the camp and found Brown hysterical with fear. His partners were gone, and he was unable to go search for them. A posse was rounded up in St. Thomas, and it set off downstream. It was a short trip. Hancock and Taylor were found four miles away, both shot in the back. Taylor's head had been smashed in with an ax handle. Nothing was missing but their shoes. Queho was, of course the prime suspect.
       About a week later, Maud Douglas, the wife of an Eldorado Canyon miner, woke up to hear some peculiar noises coming from the larder at the rear of the couple's cabin. She rose to investigate. She may have seen the figure of her killer, or the blinding flash as he fired his shotgun at close range and filled her chest with buckshot.
       It was Queho, everyone decided, doing his winter grocery shopping. On the floor, canned goods and cornmeal were piled, evidently left behind by the fleeing killer. Reid believes that Queho was indeed the killer, but points out that there is room for doubt.
       Maud Douglas had two children of her own, and responsibility for two others, Bertha and Leo Kennedy. The boy was but 4 years old at the time of the murder, but he later stated that Arvin Douglas, Maud's husband, had killed her. Bertha said that she had awakened Maud Douglas and asked for a glass of water, and that was the reason she was in the kitchen at the time. Still, authorities had all the evidence they needed -- Queho's footprints at the crime scene.
       It was an atrocity that truly motivated Southern Nevada. Sheriff Sam Gay ordered Deputy Frank Wait to round up a posse, hire the best trackers and once and for all kill or capture Queho. The party included several Indians. The posse tracked him north to Las Vegas Wash, to Callville, and on to Muddy Mountain, where they lost his trail in a snowstorm. Wait picked up more men in Moapa Valley, including five Indians, and the group split into two parties, one going in each direction, encircling the mountain. They found the remains of two freshly killed desert bighorn sheep, but not their man, whose trail eventually led back to Las Vegas Wash.
       At Black Canyon (current site of Hoover Dam) Wait awoke one morning and saw a blazing fire in the distance. He counted his posse and discovered that two of the Indians were gone. They were signaling Queho. When they returned, Wait sent them packing.
       By this time the exhausted and demoralized posse had dwindled to three men. Wait caught influenza and had to return to Las Vegas. It was the end of that phase of The Hunt for Red Queho. But he remained a very wanted man.
       In the early 1930s, Clark County Sheriff Joe Keate was an ardent Queho-chaser. He had first been sent to Southern Nevada in quest of Queho while serving as a state policeman, and seems to have developed a grudging admiration for his quarry. Reid said he once remarked that Queho was "able to starve a coyote to death and still have plenty of strength to continue." Keate had one close encounter with someone he believed to be Queho, when a bullet whistled past his ear one dark night. The shooter eluded him.
       Queho was not without friends. His countrymen certainly assisted him, while at the same time unanimously declaring that he was long dead. And, despite his fugitive status, many whites helped him as well. Murl Emery, the legendary Colorado River boatman, who operated a ferry at Nelson's landing in Eldorado Canyon for many years, never hid the fact that he saw Queho often, liked him, and wasn't slow in lending him a hand.
       "Why don't you let the poor Indian rest?" he was once quoted as saying.
       The hunt for the renegade Indian finally ended in February 1940. Charley Kenyon, along with brothers Art and Ed Schroeder, were prospecting along the Colorado about 10 miles below Hoover Dam. Charley and Ed were working the high sides of the steep canyon when they discovered what appeared to be a low stone wall. The spot was about 2,000 feet above the river and commanded a total view of the canyon. There was a trip wire, which was rigged to an alarm bell inside the cave on the other side of the wall. Inside the cave were the mummified remains of an American Indian male. He was in a fetal position, which suggested that he had died in pain. He had been bitten by a rattlesnake, which may have been the cause of death.
       "Some of his old pursuers," said Reid, "not wanting to acknowledge that they had been outsmarted, tried to say he had been dead since 1919."
       Not true. Blasting caps, dynamite and sheets of plywood, evidently stolen from the Hoover Dam job site, confirmed that the man had been active as late as the early 1930s. (He used the blasting caps to reload his own cartridges.) Also in the cave were the badge of the old night watchman from the Gold Bug Mine, a .30-30 Winchester saddle rifle, a repeating shotgun, a high-quality bow and a quiver of steel-tipped arrows, probably used for fishing. There were several pairs of eyeglasses, a clue that the Indian's eyesight failed in his old age. There also were numerous pairs of shoes of various sizes, which were used to patch the pair on Queho's feet.
       But was the corpse actually that of Queho? Old timer "Uncle" Joe Perkins insisted that the man was actually an Indian named Long Hair Tom, who was a close friend of Queho's. Tom, able to move among the white men and gather supplies, kept Queho supplied, and may have shared the cave with Queho -- perhaps even died in it. However, Indians who had known Queho since youth told authorities that he had double rows of teeth, something he had in common with the cave corpse.
       Wait, then Las Vegas chief of police, went to the cave, along with a party of 10 others, including Coroner A. J. Nelson, who held an inquest on the spot. The verdict was death by natural causes. Wait told the Las Vegas Review-Journal in 1948 that before leaving the cave, he had picked up the corpse and "planted a resounding kick on its posterior," then added that he had been waiting 20 years to do that.
       Charley Kenyon and the Schroeder brothers were paid $300 by the Las Vegas Elks Lodge, a far cry from the $2,000 once offered for the dreaded outlaw.
       "But," added Ed Schroeder, "we did get a bonus of a can of coffee out of the affair. We found it in the cave with the body. It was good coffee. We took it back to camp and used it down to the very last grain."
       A squabble then erupted over who owned the remains. The option of simply burying them doesn't seem to have been considered. Sheriff Gene Ward put the bones and artifacts in a display case in the county courthouse. Meanwhile, Wait sought out a man named Archie Kay of Moapa, who claimed to be Queho's next of kin. For $25, he gave Wait a bill of sale for Queho's remains and all artifacts found in the cave. The old lawman then presented the bill to the Boulder City justice of the peace, and demanded that Queho be released from county custody. The magistrate was evidently horrified at the entire notion, and refused to honor the bill. At the next election, a new justice of the peace was elected.
       The bones and artifacts then came into the possession of the Las Vegas Elks, who produced what was then the city's biggest public celebration, Helldorado. The Elks built a replica of Queho's cave, and furnished it with what was left of him and his effects. The bones and plunder were later stolen from Helldorado Village. The bones were scattered in Bonanza Wash and later recovered, but the artifacts remain missing.
       Roland Wiley, a former district attorney of Clark County, finally obtained a skeleton said to be that of Queho and respectfully interred it beside his Cathedral Canyon desert grotto near Pahrump.
       To some, the story of Queho is no more than a tale of a brutish killer. To others, American Indians in particular, it is the story of a man who was abused, hounded for his entire life, then, in death, rendered into a cheap carnival attraction.
       "Indians were granted no respect," Reid wrote. "And they were harassed and discriminated against in increasingly offensive ways. It is no wonder that Queho's fellow Indians helped him. Nor is it surprising that he became known among the few Indians of the area as someone who had stood up to the white man."                 

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