P a g e 2 G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r ed in time to learn that Bannack had just rescinded the edict of banishment against himself and Reeves and that they were at liberty to return. Moore’s horse had been stolen while he was ill. Broadwater gave him another and promptly forgot all about him. Became Cattle Man Broadwater went from real estate and mining into the cattle industry. He bought beef in Deer Lodge and sold it in Bannack at a big profit. Payment was always in gold dust. On one deal he made $6,000. He was about the leave Bannack with his sack of dust when Moore suddenly turned up. He told Broadwater privately that there was a band of road agents at Bannack, with Sheriff Plummer at their head, and that they were planning to waylay Broadwater and rob and also possibly kill him. Moore, it seems, was a member of the road agent gang but this he kept secret. Photo by Jolene Ewert-Hintz Photo by Jolene Ewert-Hintz Moore further advised Broadwater to slip out of Bannack quietly and not to tell even his most intimate friend the hour of his leaving. Broadwater accepted the advice. He started for Deer Lodge early in the evening and rode until 3 a.m. Then he laid down to rest. The horse was tied to his wrist with a lariat. The horse awakened him with its snorts about daybreak—in time for him to see an Indian creeping toward him. He shot the Indian who, however, was able to run away. He resumed his journey. Ives and Cooper After traveling 20 miles he came upon two men seated by a campfire. They were George Ives and John Cooper. Both were doomed to be hanged, later on, by the Vigilantes for their many crimes. They were surprised to see him. Their behavior impressed him with the belief that they had been sent out to waylay him but had not expected him so soon. Their horses were grazing about two or three miles away from the fire along the foothills. They hailed him and urged him to wait for them. There were road agents along the way, they said. It would be better for the three to ride together. Broadwater pretended to consent. But, he said, since his horse couldn’t keep up with theirs he had better keep on riding; they would have no trouble in overtaking him. He further allayed their suspicions by dismounting within eye shot of them to lead his horse up a little hill. But as soon as he was out of sight he rode “hell for leather” for the second crossing of the river where the French squawman, Contway, was living with his Indian wife. It was the nearest shelter. It was a race for life.
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