Legends of the Old West - JESSE JAMES Ep. 5 | "Northfield: The Manhunt"

Episode Date: December 9, 2018

The Northfield raid was a disaster, and now the surviving members of the James-Younger gang face a desperate struggle to escape Minnesota. Hundreds of men chase them through the countryside until the outlaws are forced to make hard choices about their futures. They display extraordinary stamina as they outrun nearly all of the lawmen on their trails. Join Black Barrel+ for early access and bingeable seasons: blackbarrel.supportingcast.fm/join For more details, visit our website www.blackbarrelmedia.com and check out our social media pages. We’re @OldWestPodcast on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Fortnite created to give players of all ages, including kids and families, a safe digital space to play in. Download Fortnite on consoles, PC, cloud services, or Android and play Lego Fortnite for free. Rated ESRB E10+. John Ames rapidly dictated an urgent message to the telegraph operator.

It had been one hour since the robbery of the First National Bank and the gunfight on Division Street, and in that hour, Northfield, Minnesota had turned into a circus. People streamed in from everywhere to see the damage, especially the two dead robbers who still lay in the street. Ames was one of the founders of the bank, and he took it upon himself to send news of the disaster to the rest of southern Minnesota. Six of the eight to the rest of southern Minnesota. Six of the eight bandits had survived. They were on the run, but most were wounded. Ames needed to mobilize as many man-hunters as possible.

The outlaws they would be chasing were clearly violent, well-armed men. But beyond those obvious facts, he knew nothing about them. And that would be a constant problem in the coming days as various posses tried to track the bandits. They had no idea who they were dealing with. But that didn't matter right now, as Ames hovered over the shoulder of the telegraph operator. He needed to alert every town in southern Minnesota, every detective and county sheriff. His message was direct and to the point. It contained 33 words plus his name. Eight armed men attacked bank at two o'clock. Fight on street between

robbers and citizens. Cashier killed. Teller wounded. Two robbers killed. Others wounded. Send us some men in arms to chase robbers. John T. Ames. As a podcast network, our first priority has always been audio and the stories we're able to share with you. But we also sell merch. And organizing that was made both possible and easy with Shopify. Shopify is the global commerce platform that helps you sell and grow at every stage of your business. From the launch your online shop stage, all the way to the did we

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Go to shopify.com slash r-e-a-l-m now to grow your business, no matter what stage you're in. Shopify.com slash Realm. From Black Barrel Media, this is Season 3 of the Legends of the Old West podcast. I'm your host, Chris Wimmer, and this is the fifth episode of a six-part series on Jesse James. Eight members of the James Younger gang had ridden into Northfield, Minnesota to rob the First National Bank, but only six rode out. National Bank, but only six rode out. Those six now faced the Old West equivalent of the demanding survival course conducted by elite units of our modern military. The gang had to cross hundreds of miles on foot or on stolen horses. They lived mostly outside with no shelter. They were cold and

wet all day, every day, thanks to constant rains. They doctored numerous injuries with no medical equipment, and they subsisted on whatever food they could scavenge or steal. The raid on Northfield had been hell. The escape would be much, much worse. And now, here's Jesse James Episode 5, Northfield, The Manhunt As soon as the outlaws had pulled Bob onto a horse during the melee on Division Street, they had galloped south out of town and angled to the southwest. They had lost Clell Miller and Bill Chadwell during the

robbery, and now the six surviving men rode five horses away from Northfield, Minnesota, as fast as they could. And they could barely call it a robbery. They had taken exactly $26.60. If the plan had worked, the five men at the bank would have ridden back to the town square, where Jesse, Jim Younger, and Charlie Pitts would have covered the escape across the Iron Bridge. They would have headed west out of town before anyone knew what happened. Now they were headed southwest toward an area called the Big Woods in a race to stay ahead of the posses that would surely form behind them and the ones that would likely form in front of them

as the telegraph spread word of the robbery across the land in seconds. Big Woods was a simple but accurate name for the massive stretch of dense forest that loomed in their path. It was home to lakes and ponds, rivers and streams, and deep marshes, and also small villages and individual farms.

It would be the best place to hide, but it would also be their worst enemy. Back in Northfield, the telegraph operator worked quickly. He tapped out messages to every community south of town, and also to Minneapolis and St. Paul. At 4 p.m. on the day of the robbery, Thursday, September 7, 1876, trains pulled out of the Twin Cities heading south. They carried detectives from both cities as well as several armed men. The trains met in Mendota, where the men combined forces for the rest of the journey south. In small towns all over southern Minnesota, telegraph operators ran to the leaders of their community with the incredible news of the raid.

Men from every walk of life dropped everything and grabbed their weapons. They formed small posses and went in search of the robbers. The manhunt had begun. The first town southwest of Northfield was Dundas. The first town southwest of Northfield was Dundas. It was only three miles away, and the telegraph had surely carried the news to town before the gang arrived. The six outlaws rode through the business district with their senses on high alert. They scanned the streets and sidewalks for any sign that they had been recognized.

But the townspeople went about their business paying very little attention to the six men on five horses. No one in Dundas knew about the raid, despite the repeated messages that had been sent to its telegraph office. The operator had been away from his desk for more than an hour, and he hadn't received any of the urgent warnings. The outlaws rode through town, and no one was the wiser. But by the time they were safely beyond the little hamlet, they were in desperate need of a horse for Bob. He was in agony with his right arm shattered at the elbow from Henry Wheeler's bullet and he couldn't ride double any longer. The gang met a man on a wagon and told him a crazy story. The bank had been robbed in Northfield and they were hot on the trail of the bandits. The man didn't want to give up one of his two horses,

so an outlaw whacked him over the head with a pistol and stole a horse. As they pushed Bob onto the new horse, they saw two men racing toward them on fine horses. Their horses. The men were riding the animals of Clell Miller and Bill Chadwell. One of the outlaws shouted for the men to stop, and they did, wisely. The two men from Northfield had caught up to the bandits, but they were outnumbered and outgunned. They stayed in the road while the gang galloped away. The two men followed slowly at a distance, waiting for various posses to catch up with them. Now with six mounts,

the gang could move a little faster, but not much. Every hoofbeat sent stabbing pain through Bob's arm, and Cole's hip, and Jim's shoulder, and Frank's leg. They had fashioned a sling for Bob, but blood was still pouring out of his wound.

He had a horse, but now he needed a saddle. His mount had been hitched to a wagon, so he rode bareback until they spotted a farm on the road to Millersburg. They talked the farmer into loaning them a saddle and then continued toward the town. They passed Millersburg around 4.30 p.m. It had been two and a half hours since the raid, and they were only nine miles from Northfield. But luck was still with them. Millersburg was barely a speck on the road, and it didn't have a telegraph.

Posse's were flocking to the area, but other than the two men from Northfield, the gang hadn't met anyone who knew about the robbery. That changed an hour and a half later. Five citizens rode into Shieldsville at 6 p.m. with a wagon full of guns. The town was the next stop on the route the outlaws were following, and the men had made the long ride from Faribault to intercept the robbers. When they arrived, Shieldsville was quiet, so they went into a saloon to have a beer while they waited for the outlaws, or for news of the outlaws, or whatever

might happen. Either way, a beer sounded good after a long ride. About five minutes later, the James gang rode into town. They were sore and exhausted, and they stopped right next to the wagon loaded with guns. They watered their horses at the trough, and a few moments later, the men from Faribault stumbled outside. The outlaws drew their pistols in a blur of motion before the men could reach their guns in the wagon. The gang let the horses drink, and then mounted up. They fired at the water pump near the men to give them a good scare, and then galloped out of town. The men ran to their guns, but they couldn't have hit the bandits if they wanted to. The guns were unloaded. But a few minutes later, another squad rode into

town and joined up with the Faribault men. Now they were 14 strong, with loaded weapons, and they chased the bandits. When they were at the edge of rifle weapons, and they chased the bandits. When they were at the edge of rifle distance, they fired on the outlaws. One of the bullets clipped Cole's elbow, causing him to jerk the reins of Bob's horse, which he had been leading for his brother. Bob's horse spun, throwing Bob to the ground. He screamed in pain as his injured arm crashed into the dirt. His horse ran away, and with enormous effort effort Bob was able to climb up behind Cole The outlaws kept moving and as the sun disappeared over the horizon

They confronted a farmer named Sager They forced him to guide them through the growing darkness until they were beyond Kilkenny The next town in line They finally found shelter for the night in a farmhouse on the road to Waterville. They now had a spot to rest, and they dressed their wounds and made plans for the next day. While they regrouped, the manhunt grew and expanded. More than 200 men now scouted the roads, trails, bridges, fords, and river crossings. Rice County Sheriff Ara Barton organized the pursuit.

He wanted to confine them to the big woods, and he was hopeful of their capture the following day. That night, the rain began to fall. In Northfield, the biggest question on everyone's mind was, who were the robbers? And more specifically, who were the two dead robbers here in town? So many people wanted to get a look at the dead men that they were briefly displayed in the town square. An excited crowd gathered around them, but no one recognized them.

They carried nothing on them that could be used to identify them. It was a mystery, until Caleb Peterman arrived in town. He had come to see the bodies because he suspected that his brother-in-law might have been one of the robbers. He studied the men closely, and the crowd waited anxiously for his response. He didn't know the shorter of the two outlaws, but he confirmed the bigger one was his brother-in-law, Bill Stiles.

On the surface, the ID sounded good. It was assumed that the gang had a local guide, and a ruffian like Bill Stiles would have made sense. But as the story of the ID hit the papers, it quickly fell apart. Of the many problems with Peterman's identification, the biggest was the size. His brother-in-law, Bill Stiles, was five feet eight inches tall. Bill Chadwell was six-four. One of the gang members was using an alias, but it wasn't Chadwell. With Peterman's mistake revealed, Northfield was back to square one. But regardless of who the outlaws were, the governor and the bank issued rewards for their capture.

Combined, the two rewards were worth $2,000 on Friday. By the end of the week, they would be up to $1,000 per, and a total of 9,000 if someone could catch them all. The gang hardly slept, despite their exhaustion, and they were up and moving early on Friday. Around noon, they tried to cross the Cannon River but were turned back by a sudden shotgun blast from a farmer who was on patrol with a small posse. The farmer surprised the bandits, but he also surprised his own men. The posse retreated at the sound of the shot, and when they did, the gang slipped across the river. A half an hour later, the outlaws struck another farm and tried to convince a German farmer to loan them two new horses and saddles. They said they were lawmen on the trails of robbers,

but when the man hesitated, they stopped talking and pulled their guns. They took the farmer's son with them as a guide, and when he performed his task, they sent him back home. On the road home, the boy met a man who told him of the Northfield raid, and now he realized he had just helped the gang of outlaws who were the most wanted men in the state. A posse spotted the bandits one final time before darkness fell, but then the outlaws melted into the trees and disappeared like ghosts. Even though they didn't know the area,

they had spent their whole lives in the saddle as bushwhackers and then robbers. They knew how to avoid capture. As Friday closed, the people of Northfield still weren't sure who would rob their bank. A detective with the Adams Express Messenger Company, who had tracked the James Younger gang since the Rocky Cut robbery, was certain the Missouri boys had done the job. But then he misidentified the photos of Clell Miller and Bill Chadwell, and the chief of police in St. Louis chimed in to say the gang couldn't be in Minnesota because he was searching for them down in Texas.

In the dead of night, Henry Wheeler, the 22-year-old medical student from the University of Michigan, snuck into the town graveyard with a couple classmates. They found the unmarked graves of Miller and Chadwell and dug up the bodies. They stuffed them into barrels and rushed them to the train depot. As dawn broke the next day, Miller and Chadwell were speeding east to be used as cadavers for research, and their friends were moving west. used as cadavers for research, and their friends were moving west. The weekend was full of missteps and false starts for the manhunters, despite the fact that there were now at least 500 men in the field searching for the six bandits. Special trains shuttled men to the search areas, and telegraphs operated 24 hours a

day. But Big Woods was home to thousands of feral hogs, in addition to every other form of life, and the hogs tore up the ground so the posses couldn't track the outlaws. And when the posses did think they had the right trail, they realized they had only crossed each other's tracks as hundreds of men poured over the same ground. And it rained. Man, did it rain.

By the end of the month, not even the old-timers could remember so much rain in September. It turned the roads to mud and blotted out the trail and sent many searchers home in disgust. That weekend, the robbers seemed to vanish. But they didn't vanish completely. On Saturday, September 9th, two boys spotted them near Marysburg and rushed away to tell the lawmen. They informed Minneapolis detective Mike Hoy of their wonderful discovery, and he disregarded it. Hoy was locked in a fierce rivalry with his counterpart from St. Paul, Detective John Brissett. They hated each other, and at this point, there was no central leader of the search

effort, so they sent conflicting orders that opened holes for the bandits to slip through. And they had the same problems as the outlaws. They didn't know the area, and their maps were unreliable. They were just as lost as the men they were chasing. Meanwhile, as the manhunters floundered, the outlaws were as miserable as they had ever been. They had been forced to abandon their horses, leaving them tied to trees, and now they were on foot. They were soaked to the bone. Their riding boots were not meant for hours of walking in these conditions, and they tore up the men's feet. The gang scavenged food from fields or stole it from farmhouses. They rested

during the day and marched all night. They skirted Madison Lake and then Eagle Lake and were within three miles of Mankato when they had another stroke of luck. They found an abandoned farmhouse that would be their hideout. As the outlaws closed in on the farmhouse, and Hoy and Brissette closed in on nothing, the people of Northfield attended a funeral. On Sunday afternoon, September 10th, three days after the robbery, Joseph Lee Haywood was laid to rest. The memorial service for the bookkeeper of the First National Bank drew 800 to 1,000 people, half the town of Northfield.

Hardware store owners Manning and Allen, who had been instrumental in fighting the gang, were pallbearers. In the days that followed, a fund was set up to help Haywood's wife and young daughter. Banks from all over Minnesota sent money when they heard of its creation, and then banks from Canada, New York, Boston, and San Francisco sent donations as well. But there was still no news of the robbers. The gang holed up in the abandoned farmhouse Sunday night, Monday, Tuesday, and Tuesday night. They dressed their wounds and stayed out of the rain and tried to figure out what to do next. As they stayed dry in their camp on Tuesday morning, the posses finally discovered the horses they had abandoned four days ago. At first, the manhunters were delighted by their find.

But as they examined the scene more closely, they found out the animals had been there for days, and the searchers were once again dejected. Another ray of light seemed to shine on them late Tuesday when a report of suspicious men came in from an area near Mankato. But another downpour cursed the manunters and obliterated the trail. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. It wasn't the outlaws.

By Wednesday morning, September 13th, Detectives Hoy and Brissette had had enough. They put their men on trains and began the disappointing trip back to the Twin Cities. They would get another chance, though, that very afternoon. Around 6 a.m. Wednesday morning, Thomas Jefferson Dunning went to bring in his boss's cows for milking. He was a hired hand on a farm, and he had just started his routine when he was startled by six haggard-looking men. The outlaws used their standard lie,

that they were a posse chasing robbers, and they accused Dunning of being one of the bandits, so he was instantly thrown off balance. He stammered that he was no such thing, but the men pulled their pistols and tied his hands behind his back. They instructed Dunning to show them the way to Mankato, and they began the march. Dunning repeated that he the way to Mankato, and they began the march. Dunning repeated that he was innocent over and over again, but the men were only interested in geography.

Which roads went around Mankato? Where could they cross the river? Could they swim it if they had to? What was the land like farther south? As they walked, Dunning slowly understood the situation. farther south. As they walked, Dunning slowly understood the situation. Jesse was the most talkative of the gang, and he eventually told Dunning about the raid. After three quarters of a mile, they decided the farmhand was more trouble than he was worth. They left him standing in the road as they moved a short distance away to discuss his fate. There were only three options.

Shoot him, tie him to a tree, or let him go. Jesse and Frank wanted to shoot him. It was the only way to guarantee his silence. Cole opposed the shooting, as Jesse knew he would. They were always on opposite sides. Bob seemed to be the deciding voice. Bob opposed the shooting as well, so they made a soft compromise. They let Dunning go, but they made him swear to keep their secret, and if he didn't, they would know about it. They would hunt him down and kill him, no matter how long it took. Dunning hurried back to the farm.

For a while, he thought about keeping the secret, but in the end, he knew he couldn't. He told the farm owner about his experience. The man immediately leapt onto a horse and galloped to Mankato. The telegraph lit up with the first reliable report in days. Detectives Hoy and Brissette learned the news as they traveled home, and both men pushed their posses off the train and took the next ones back to Mankato. The news reinvigorated the search effort. Men flocked to the Mankato area from miles around, and for the first time, a central commander took charge of the hunt. General Edmund Pope set up headquarters in Mankato, and by the end of the day, he had more than a thousand men combing the woods for the James Younger gang.

Around midnight, the gang decided not to bypass Mankato. They went right through it. For the first time, they actually knew a feature that could help them. The railroad tracks that ran out of town to the west were the same ones they had ridden in on three weeks earlier. They would use the tracks as their guide to get out of there. It was a dark night. The moon and stars were shrouded. They desperately searched for a hand car that would speed up their progress, but they had no luck there, so they kept walking. At one point, they were only four blocks from General Pope's headquarters, though neither party knew it at the time. Around 2 a.m., they made it to the railroad bridge over the Blue Earth River.

The manhunters had guarded every crossing in the previous weeks, and the outlaws expected this one to be watched as well. But as they studied it, they didn't see any guards. Cautiously, the outlaws walked across the bridge single file, six barely perceptible silhouettes. Barely perceptible, not invisible. Two men and a boy were stationed out of sight to watch the bridge. The boy spotted the bandits and urged the men to shoot, but the men ran away. The boy ran too, downstream to more manhunters. One of them rushed to General Pope's headquarters and relayed the news. Pope was devastated. By that point, the outlaws had disappeared into the unusually thick darkness. They would be impossible to track until

morning. After they crossed the bridge, the gang stumbled into a watermelon patch. They devoured as many as they could before continuing west along the tracks. Later, they made an even bigger discovery, a chicken coop. They snatched three birds to cook the next day. They walked three miles past the bridge and set up camp at the base of a ridge called Pigeon Hill. They built a fire to roast the chickens and tried to hide the flames by rigging their coats and blankets into a tarp. They started to cook their feast, but Cole was restless. They were only 50 paces from the railroad tracks. Yes, their spot was fairly hidden, but Cole thought it was still too close to the tracks.

He was right. Just before the man began to eat their meal, they heard yelling back near the tracks. Excited manhunters bounded into the brush and ran straight toward the camp. The outlaws raced deeper into the woods. They had to leave most of their supplies behind, their blankets, bridles, and food, but they escaped again. When the posse made it to camp, they found the gang's supplies, but not the gang. Detective Hoy had botched the job once again. He had been warned that if he found a good trail to take it slow and easy, make a good plan to snare the outlaws. Instead, while he and his men had

been up on the tracks, they had run right past the outlaws' footprints in the mud that led down to the camp. The last man in the group had spotted the prints and yelled for the detective to come back. When they saw the trail and the smoke from the fire, they burst into the brush instead of quietly encircling the gang. It was Thursday, September 14th, seven days after the raid, and the gang was still on the loose. Shop with Rakuten and you'll get it. What's it? It's the best deal. The highest cash back.

The most savings on your shopping. So join Rakuten and start getting cash back at Sephora, Old Navy, Expedia, and other stores you love. You can even stack sales on top of cash back. Just start your shopping with Rakuten to save money at over 750 stores. Join for free at Rakuten.ca or get the Rakuten app. That's R-A-K-U-T-E-N. Thursday night was the breaking point for the outlaws. They had narrowly evaded Hoy's Posse and had used all their wiles to stay out of reach.

They waded through streams and stepped from rock to rock for long stretches. They walked on their heels and then on their toes and doubled back on their trail and then doubled back again. But that night, an argument erupted. Jesse and Frank had been right about Dunning. They should have killed him. Releasing him led directly to their current situation. Now, they needed to move with speed all night and put many miles between themselves and the posse. But Bob was a problem. His serious injury slowed them down. Jesse and Frank felt they were forced to make a difficult decision. They had wives at home and Jesse had a young son. In the interest of self-preservation,

at home and Jesse had a young son. In the interest of self-preservation, they had to split off from the Youngers. Charlie Pitts, whose real name was Sam Wells, had a family too, but he was loyal to the Youngers and stayed with the three brothers. They all recognized the desperate situation they faced. Charlie and the Youngers gave most of their remaining valuables to the James boys. Charlie and the Youngers gave most of their remaining valuables to the James boys. They kept only a little cash for themselves. There was probably a heartfelt but short goodbye, and the James brothers slipped away into the darkness. The James Younger gang ended on a cold, rainy night in the big woods of southern Minnesota,

never to be reunited again. Around 3 a.m., Jesse and Frank came across the farm of Joseph Rockwood. They stole Rockwood's two big gray mares, and now they had reliable horses for the first time since they fled Northfield. The animals were about to do some hard riding. At 6 a.m., they stopped at a farm and bought a few supplies from the wife of the farmer. They looked a little rough around the edges, but they were nice enough, so she helped them, having no idea who they were. Later that morning, on Friday the 15th, Joseph Rockwood hurried to General Pope's headquarters in Lake Crystal with urgent news that his horses had been stolen. Now, Pope had to confront the

possibility that he was chasing two groups instead of one. All day, frantic reports of two men on Rockwood's mares came into headquarters, but the manhunters were always a step behind. That night, Frank and Jesse bunked with a German farmer who had not heard about the raid. They were stiff and sore and told the farmer they'd had a wagon accident. They left at 7 a.m. the next day, Saturday the 16th. At 2 p.m., they stopped at another farm and told the woman they encountered that they were on the trail of horse thieves. She gave them food, which they ate in the saddle before setting off again. She gave them food, which they ate in the saddle before setting off again.

At sunset, news of the 2 p.m. stopover reached the county sheriff and St. Paul detective John Brissett, who had been crisscrossing the area in search of the men on the gray mares. The next morning, Sunday the 17th, they found the trail and quickly sent a note to General Pope saying they were in hot pursuit, but they did not say they were at least 17 hours behind the James boys. Those were critical hours, and the brothers used every one of them. They rode all night and gained an insurmountable lead. The sheriff and the detective never laid eyes on Frank and Jesse James. While the brothers steadily moved southwest,

the Youngers and Charlie Pitts experienced more misery than they thought was possible. For five days and nights, they pushed west. They were sore and their boots were destroying their feet. They were soaking wet, day and night, and they were starving. Whatever realm existed beyond exhaustion, that's where they were. But despite their degraded condition, they were still free. They still eluded capture, which would have consequences for the Manhunters very soon. On Sunday morning the 17th, while Detective Brissette was just discovering the James Boys trail from the previous day, Jesse and Frank were stopping at a farm near Laverne, Minnesota. They were in the far southwest corner of the state, closing in on the border with Dakota Territory and Iowa.

Charles and Sarah Rolfe had not heard the news of the Northfield raid. When the brothers arrived at their farm, Charles was away from the house, so Sarah let the two men inside to eat. The riders had clearly been in the saddle for quite some time. They were so stiff they could barely get off their horses. They struggled to walk into the house. Frank was so sore he could hardly eat. Jesse explained to Sarah that they'd had an accident with their wagon and his brother had busted a couple ribs. When they finished, they thanked her and paid for their meal. But now they had to get back on their horses.

The task was so difficult they had to lead the animals over to a fence and climb up the rails like a ladder to get into the saddle. But they made it, and they rode away toward the state line. but they made it, and they rode away toward the state line. A short time later, Charles' brother-in-law visited the house and told the couple about the robbery. They were shocked. They had just fed two of the bandits. Charles raced into Laverne and told the county sheriff about the experience. The sheriff quickly rounded up some men and went in pursuit.

The small posse actually got within rifle distance of the outlaws. They could clearly see them. But then the sheriff's nerve gave out. He chose not to start a gun battle with the killers, so he followed them at a distance. It was another fateful mistake by law enforcement, and they lost the outlaws after dark. That night, Jesse and Frank crossed into Dakota territory and stopped at the farm of a Swedish immigrant. Their mounts had been great, but now they were used up. They swapped them out for two black horses in the stable, whether the Swede liked it or not. They took off again, but soon realized they had a problem.

One of the horses was blind in both eyes, and the other was blind in one eye. Somehow, they guided the blacks for 12 miles before they stole a pair of gray geldings. They passed through Sioux Falls in the middle of the night, and asked for directions from a stage driver at 3.30 a.m. As dawn broke, they found a place to stay out of sight during daylight hours. Messages were burning up the telegraph lines behind them, alerting every town in the area

to the presence of the outlaws. Posse's rode through the countryside all day, but never spotted the brothers. These searchers were part of a growing club. It seemed no one was capable of cornering either group of bandits. On this day, Monday, September 18th, Detective Mike Hoy of Minneapolis and Detective John Brissett of St. Paul

gave up their pursuit for good. They had been soundly beaten by the boys from Missouri, and they were savaged in the press for their failure. The James brothers spent that night with a Norwegian farmer who had no reason to suspect they were robbers. The next morning, Tuesday, September 19th, they came across two men in the road with wagons and stole the two best horses available. They wanted to cross the Big Sioux River from Dakota Territory into the northwest

corner of Iowa as soon as possible. A short while later, they splashed across the river, but as they did, they were spotted by three men who rode in advance of a small posse. The men followed Jesse and Frank across the river, but as soon as the outlaws reached a bluff, they dismounted and fired at the pursuers. The manhunters turned and retreated, because, in a consistent theme, they were somehow unarmed. As they waited for the rest of the posse to catch up, Jesse and Frank galloped away. And then, in another consistent theme, a storm rolled in and washed away the outlaw's trail. They had escaped. Again.

Early afternoon the next day, Wednesday, September 20th, the James boys had another major encounter. Dr. Sidney Mosher of Sioux City, Iowa, had received an urgent telegram that a woman was seriously sick on a farm several miles away. He grabbed his medical bag and rode in the direction of the farm, but he didn't know exactly how to get there. After a time, he feared he was lost, know exactly how to get there. After a time, he feared he was lost, and then he met two men on the road. He thought they looked like intelligent men, though they had clearly been in the wilds for quite some time. Their clothes were covered with dirt and grime, and the taller of the two men wore boots that were full of holes. The doctor asked the men if they knew the area, and if so, did they know how to reach the farm he was trying to find?

Jesse and Frank responded yes to both questions. But then they couldn't tell the doctor specific directions to the farm. The doctor knew about the raid and the hunt for the robbers, and he asked Frank and Jesse if they were searching for the killers. They said they were. Did he have any information? killers. They said they were. Did he have any information? The doctor had plenty. He filled the men on the posse from Sioux City that was looking for the robbers at that very moment. Jesse and Frank dropped the charade. They told the doctor they were part of the Northfield gang, and the doctor quickly became their prisoner. The three men spent the next several hours on the road traveling away from Sioux City. They stopped once to ask for food and another time to talk a farmer into giving them a saddle,

but otherwise, they kept moving. Around 8 p.m., they finally stopped. They dismounted, and Frank exchanged clothes with the doctor. When he gave the doctor his pants, there was a distinct bullet hole in the right leg. Jesse asked Frank if he should have the doctor dress his wound, but Frank refused. Jesse swapped coats with the doctor and then it was time to leave. They pointed the doctor in the direction of a speck of light way off in the distance. They told him to run for it, and he did, running as fast as he could in Frank's pants, which were six inches too long.

When he reached the light, he found a house that belonged to a German farmer. He nearly collapsed from exhaustion in the man's home and then told him a fantastic tale about the last few hours of his life. The next day, Thursday, September 21st, exactly two weeks after the raid, the doctor rode back into Sioux City and told his story to the authorities. Unlike many other sightings, he had actual proof he had met the James brothers. He was wearing their clothing. The bullet hole in the pants convinced everyone. Once again, messages buzzed over the telegraph lines,

alerting towns and railroad depots that the bandits were in the area and probably headed south toward Missouri. But Frank and Jesse had a massive head start. Catching them now would take a miracle. The same day Frank and Jesse rode through the western third of Iowa, within striking distance of Missouri, the younger brothers and Charlie Pitts were finally exiting the big woods of southern Minnesota. The woods had been their own private hell for nearly a week since the gang split, but now they were out of the woods and onto the prairie as they worked their way west. Cole and Charlie had stayed in a small village called Medelia while they were scouting the raid, and now they moved toward it to try to steal horses. On their scouting mission, they had stayed at a hotel called the Flanders House

that was operated by a Union Civil War veteran named Thomas Vaught, whom everyone called Colonel Vaught. When word of the raid had reached Medelia, Vaught immediately thought of the two strangers who had stayed in his hotel several days earlier. His instincts told him they were part of the gang and they'd be coming this way. He and two men spent a couple days guarding a bridge in the area, and in that time, a young man happened by. He was 17-year-old Oscar Sorbel. Oscar was small for his age and looked much younger than his years.

He appeared more like a boy than a young man. He was fascinated by the men standing guard and by all the excitement of the manhunt. Colonel Vaught gave the young man a treat by telling him to be on the lookout for the bandits and if he spotted them, he was to rush directly to Vaught. At 7am the very next day, Jim Younger and Charlie Pitts walked past Oscar Sorbel's father, who was milking a cow in the road in front of the family's house. It was Thursday, September 21st, two weeks since the raid. Jim and Charlie said a cheerful good morning to Oscar's father and kept walking. Oscar was carrying pails of milk near the barn when he

saw the two men. He knew instantly that they were robbers and he whispered as much to his father when the two men were safely away. Oscar's father said they seemed like nice men and he instructed his son to go back to work. Oscar returned to his milking but he couldn't contain his curiosity. He set aside his pail and hurried down the road after the men. But they had entered a stretch of woods, and he wouldn't follow them in there. When he returned home, he found out that two more men had stopped by the house, one of whom appeared to have his arm in a sling under his coat. Oscar was convinced the four men were robbers. He begged his father to let him ride

to Medelia to warn the lawmen. Finally, his father gave his consent. Oscar climbed onto an old horse and began the eight-mile trip to Medelia. But the roads were muddy, and at one point the horse tripped and flipped Oscar into the mud. Oscar arrived at the Flanders House Hotel an hour later and began shouting his news, but he was covered in mud from head to toe and most people just thought he was crazy. Colonel Vaught did not. Neither did County Sheriff James Glispin,

who was on the hotel porch nearby. Vaught, Glispin, and two more men grabbed their weapons and began the chase. Vaught, Glispin, and two more men grabbed their weapons and began the chase. Bob Younger was nearly spent. His arm had begun to heal in the last two weeks, but not in a good way. He couldn't straighten it, and he couldn't use his right hand at all. After they passed the Sorbel farm, they wound around Lake Linden and were approaching the marshes near Lake Hanska,

and Bob said he couldn't go any farther. He told his companions to leave him, but of course they wouldn't. Then, at 11 a.m., they heard riders approaching. They turned to see four men galloping toward them, with Sheriff Glispin in the lead. Glispin shouted for them to halt, but they began splashing through the marshes. The four manhunters fired shots at the outlaws, but they missed, and the bandits were soon out of range. The horses couldn't follow the fugitives through the marshes, so the hunters had to go two miles out of their way to continue the pursuit. But in that time, more men joined the posse. They made up ground, and soon

they spotted the bandits again. Their men were approaching the brush on the banks of the Watanwan River. The outlaws fired at the posse as they retreated toward the river. The posse returned fire, but they soon lost sight of the outlaws in the thickets near the water. The youngers in Charlie Pits had no choice. They had to wade into the freezing cold river and try to make it to the other side. The water swallowed them up to their chests and forced them to hold their guns over their heads, but they made it to the south bank. As they staggered out of the water and hurried across the prairie, they were spotted by a farmer's wife who shouted the alarm.

The woman ran to a hunting party on the road and said four men had come out of the river nearby. The party was led by Horace Thompson, the president of the First National Bank of St. Paul. He and his son guessed they had just stumbled onto the fugitives from Northfield. They grabbed their shotguns and began walking down the hill toward the river. The youngers came up from the river and saw the teams of wagons and horses on the road. They desperately wanted those horses, but then they saw two men walking in their direction, and the men looked like they had rifles. The outlaws only had pistols, so they rushed into the tall weeds to their left and moved back toward the river. In the last 30 minutes, Sheriff Glissman's posse had grown to 40 men.

They had been forced to cross the river a mile away, but now they converged on the thickets. They spread out and locked up the area. They had men on both sides of the river. The gang was surrounded. As the bandits hid in the weeds, they could hear the manhunters moving closer. They had men on both sides of the river. The gang was surrounded. As the bandits hid in the weeds, they could hear the manhunters moving closer. The searchers were excited. They knew they had their prey cornered.

Captain William Murphy called out for volunteers to walk into the thickets and flush out the bandits. Courage vanished from most of the manhunters. In the end, seven men got off their horses. Led by Colonel Vaught, Sheriff Glispin, and Captain Murphy, the team comprised Charles Pomeroy, Benjamin Rice, George Bradford, and S.J. Severson. They marched in a line, slowly pushing toward the thickets that hid the outlaws. The youngers and Charlie Pitts crouched in the willows, some of which were five feet high. Charlie spotted Sheriff Glispin moving toward him. He allowed the sheriff to get within 15 feet, then jumped up and aimed his pistol at Glispin.

Glispin swiveled toward Charlie with his single-shot rifle. They fired at each other at almost the same time. The sheriff's bullet slammed into Charlie's chest. He pitched forward and crashed to the ground, dead on the spot. Glispin dropped to a knee to reload his rifle. The youngers leapt to their feet and began firing. Posse men on both sides of the river opened up on the thickets. Gunfire roared in all directions. Then Captain Murphy went down, shot on the right side of the stomach. He looked down. The slug had scored a direct hit on his briarwood pipe.

The only mark on his body was a slight bruise. But the youngers were in the middle of an onslaught. Jim was hit in the leg. Then his head snapped around as a shot from Colonel Vaught smashed into the left side of his upper jaw and lodged in the roof of his mouth near the back of his throat. He fell forward, unconscious, with blood gushing from his face. Buckshot peppered Cole's back and head. Then he took a devastating wound. A ball struck him in the head right behind the right eye. He fell down beside Jim with blood pouring from his nose and mouth.

Bob was hit in the right lung, and now the revolver in his left hand clicked on empty cylinders. He was the only man standing, and the injury to his right arm prevented him from reloading. Charlie Pitts was dead. Bob's brothers were badly wounded, and he shouted for the manhunters to stop firing. He would surrender. It was over. News of the surrender reached Northfield that evening, Thursday, September 21st, 1876, exactly two weeks after the raid. The townspeople went wild. That night, they lit a huge bonfire in the middle of the town square. A band played, and people fired guns in the air and set off fireworks to celebrate. The jubilation was well-deserved and expected, but not fully complete. The James boys were still out there, somewhere.

Over the next two days, there were sightings near small towns in west-central Iowa. They were last seen by a girl near Ida Grove, and after that, they were gone. They had displayed near-superhuman stamina to stay ahead of their pursuit, and on Saturday the 23rd, the manhunt was officially called off. The boys had made it back to their home turf of Missouri, and they laid low for quite a spell. But the settled life wasn't in them, or at least, it wasn't in Jesse. He started a new gang, but this one couldn't hold a candle to the James Younger gang. This new lineup was a

junior varsity squad of misfits, and two of those misfits, a pair of brothers, would go on to achieve international fame, but not the kind they wanted. The end of the Jesse James story is next time on the Season 3 finale of the Legends of the Old West podcast. If you enjoyed the show, please give it a rating and a review on iTunes or wherever you're listening. You can check out our website at blackbarrelmedia.com and follow us on social media. Our Facebook page is Legends of the Old West podcast and our handles on Twitter and Instagram are at Old West podcast. Thanks again. We'll see you next week.