Dakota Diary 24 - The End

July 5th-12th

The time after the concert passed quickly. As far as the case for the Marquis went, the newspapers were full of what was happening every day.

O’Donnell told the newspapers his side of the story, and no doubt that is what he was going to be telling the judge when the case was reconvened.

This is more or less what he said.

“When Luffsey, Wannegan and I got down from our horses about a mile from the station, we had been riding our ponies at a walk, laughing and talking together. We were fired upon from the brush without any warning being given. We did not know that anyone was secreted in the brush. One ball struck my horse and the other my gun. Luffsey fell or got off his horse immediately after the firing of the first volley. The horse I was on died from the effects of the wound it received. Luffsey was dead before I reached the train station. I called out to the men who were shooting and asked what they were shooting for. They told me to throw down my arms. From the time I left the station to the time the first firing began I had no reason to apprehend any difficulty with anybody. I never had any cross word with the Marquis de Mores and I counted him as one of my friends.”

Other items in the newspapers told us a few things.

 It was a most unusual gathering. Stockmen from the Bad Lands, arrayed in the garb of the cowmen, with six-shooters strapped about their waists, sat on one side of the court room, and their countenances evidenced a grim determination to see that justice was done and that law must take its course. On the other side sat the servants and friends of the Marquis similarly garbed and similarly armed. To a keen observer the difference in the two factions was easily detected.

 Unfortunately for the good name of the Marquis, many of those numbered that day among his followers were renegades of the west, and outlaws of the Badlands. Outside of the clink of guns and the jingle of spurs as the men shifted about taking their seats in the court room, there was no disturbance and, on the surface, at least, all was set for a fair and impartial trial.

The Marquis, dressed with his customary meticulous care, presented a stately appearance. His entire bearing indicated annoyance that such a proceeding had been launched against a gentleman of his standing. As he was seated behind his attorneys the Marquis presented, indeed, the appearance of a gentleman of rank, and his presence alone seemed commanding.

The Marquis testified in his own behalf substantially as the altercation took place, although he never admitted that it was he who fired the fatal shot which resulted in Luffsey's death. He justified, however, his actions as the necessary defense of himself and property. Upon cross examination he admitted having killed two men before, but stated that both had been his challengers in duels fought in France. This admission instead of prejudicing his case, won him much favor, for the West in these days likes dash and daring.

While there was no proof offered that in the shooting up of Medora, Luffsey and his party were in any way attempting to do personal harm to the Marquis, and further there was no proof at the beginning of the engagement with the Marquis they intended anything further than to scare de Mores. As the shooting progressed, however, they no doubt acted with more serious intentions.

The testimony before Justice Collins was as complete and painstaking as that before Justice Bateman had been abbreviated, and continued, with a break on Sunday, through to Wednesday, July 11. So riveting were the proceedings, in fact, that according to the paper, they “served almost to demoralize some branches of Mandan’s business,” complained the Pioneer editor. “Real estate is dull because the men who would buy have been watching this case.”

July 12th

On Thursday morning Justice Collins reconvened court and lost no time in proclaiming the
defendants, the Marquis, Miller and Moore as “not guilty of the crime charged.” Collins ruled that it was justifiable homicide on the part of the Marquis and his co-defendants.

Since the attorneys had agreed the evidence produced in the Marquis’s hearing would be considered
applicable in the cases of O’Donnell and Wannegan, Justice Bateman bound them over for trial in district court. Bond was continued at $9,000.

July 13th, 1883

We have spent six weeks all together away from home, and we have enjoyed every moment of it. We did not come away with the satisfaction of having something material to remember Pa by, but we did come away with many good friends, who urged us to come and see them again.

Chief amongst these is Linda Slaughter. She and her daughters came to the train to see us off, and with her non-ending chat, she kept us from crying, which we feel rather like doing, now that we are actually about to leave.

“Here,” said Linda, as we finally got onto the train, “this is a little gift for you from the girls. They wanted you to have something to do while you are on the train. I don’t know what it is. They wanted it to be a secret. I rather suspect a book about Bismarck, myself, but you will have to wait til you open it to find out.”

So we waved them all goodbye and went to our seats, and then waved out of the window until we couldn’t see them anymore.

“Shall we open it now?” said Cora Sue.

“Well, why not? If it is a book, it will help pass the long hours between here and Minneapolis.”

It was a shoe box, but it rattled, so obviously the gift inside was not the same shape as the
box. It had been tastefully wrapped with a big blue bow on it. “Almost too pretty to unwrap,” I said.

“Well, let’s keep the bow and the paper and we can use it again,” said Cora Sue, always the
practical one.

But as soon as the wrapping was off, we found not a book but a very odd collections of things. First
of all there was a pair of men’s woolen socks. Then there were half a dozen stones and rocks, looking very much like the scoria we saw in the Badlands. Finally there were two well-faded pieces of notebook, and we both recognized our Pa’s handwriting on them.

“Oh, Cora Sue,” I said, “It’s some of Pa’s things,” and I picked up one of the rough socks and smelled it.

“Can you smell him on it?” she laughed.

“Not really, but it is so special that he did wear this, and these papers, are his words.”

“We already have those letters that he wrote Grandma.”

“But these are almost the last words he ever wrote. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

“Of course it does. I am as excited about it as you are. And these stones, which are just like the ones we admired so much in the Badlands, are ones that he picked to bring home - and maybe he meant them for us.”

“Oh, this is such a special present,” I said, with genuine tears in my eyes.

“It must be from the Dunns,” said Cora Sue. “They must have decided to give us some of Pa’s
things after all.”

“Here, there is a note. Maybe that will solve the problem.”

July 12

Bismarck

Dakota Territory

Dear Cora Sue and Mattie,

Now that you are safely away on the train, I can breathe a sign of relief. For the last two weeks, I have had to live with knowing that I was a common thief. But it was all for a good cause. Now let me
tell you how it happened.

You will remember when you came to our house and were talking about how you thought Mrs. Dunn really did have your Pa’s things. Well, I was pretty sure that you were right, and I was in a position to find out, which you weren’t. I asked my sister Jessamine, who you remember is a very good friend of Fannie, the Dunn’s daughter, if she had ever seen a suitcase or anything like it at their house. She said there was a bag sort of thing under the Dunn’s bed which she and Jessamine had seen one day when they were playing jacks in the hallway, and the ball had rolled under the bed.

Well, on the day of your introduction to Bismarck at the Lounsberrys, the Dunns asked me to baby-sit. I often do that for them, as I get on well with Fannie, and her little brother is no trouble either. They both went to sleep early, as I had hoped. As soon as I could, as I had no idea how early they might return from the party, I went into their bedroom and looked under the bed. Sure enough, there it was, a black oil cloth satchel with leather handles, just as you had described it. I opened it and looked inside. Then I took a piece of paper and made a list of it all. At first that was all I was
intending to do.

Here is the list: a dark blue wool shirt, two pairs blue and white cotton socks, cotton underwear with glass buttons, mosquito netting to drape his head and face, reading glasses, pencil, two combs – one cow hide and one black hard rubber, Bull Durham tobacco and a whetstone, and some pencils with chew marks on them. Pages of a notebook containing rough notes of the march to the Little Bighorn. Then there were a bunch of rocks which looked like coal, petrified wood, scoria and flint.

After I made the list, I thought of this plan to get some of these for you. I took one of the pairs of socks, but to make it look like there were still two there, I unrolled the second one and then rolled each sock up separately. I took a handful of the rocks, and then thought that if I untied the notebook, I could take two papers from the middle - and retie it and nobody would ever know. So that’s what I’ve done.

I know it is wrong to steal, but I figure that it was really them that stole from you, so I am just righting, at least partially, the wrong they did to you.

I enjoyed getting to know you, and hope to come out East and visit you  sometime.

Your friend,

Rosalind Slaughter

“Wow,” I said when we had finished reading it. “Now we really do have our proper physical souvenir of our Pa. We can each have one sock, one piece of paper and three rocks. Wasn’t that a nice thing for her to do? I sure hope she won’t get caught.”

“I doubt it. If somebody had seen something out of place, they would have checked by now, and somebody would have asked us about it. We were the most likely ones to want to have this stuff.”

“We must write and thank her, in some sort of code, so that she knows how much we appreciate it.”

“And, of course, we might actually have something else that Pa left behind, although we will never know for sure,” said Cora Sue.

“What do you mean?”

“We just might have a half sister there. And she is a nice girl. I wouldn’t mind at all if Fannie was our sister.”

“And you know something else. If she was our half-sister, and I am not saying that she is, well, it
would only be fair that she should have some of our Pa’s things as well - because, if it were true, he would have been her Pa.”

“Best leave that one alone. We have disturbed too many people in our visit already. Poor John
Carnahan with his guilty conscience. I do hope he will sleep better from now on.”

“Oh, Mattie, I do like this part of the world. Connecticut is going to seem so tame and ladylike
after being here in the rough and tumble of the wild west.”

“Well, we can always come again, you know. Maybe not to Bismarck, but how do you feel about
maybe taking a trip to Denver in a year or two? Then we can see how our other grandparents' part of the world compares to ours.”

“Good plan. Let’s do that,” said Cora Sue, and we sat back in our seats to enjoy the view of the
prairie rushing past our window. But we would certainly remember Bismarck.