THE FAIRBANK TRAIN ROBBERY: JEFF MILTON TRADES
SHOTS WITH THE ALVORD STILES GANG,
By John D. Rose
“…get my six-shooter out of my bag and put it under my pillow. I’ll feel better with it there.” -Jeff Milton
If anyone assumed that the dawn of the 20th Century meant the days of robberies had come to an end, they weren’t reading the local news. A gang of train robbers was hiding out in the area; no one knew who they were, but on September 9th, 1899, they held up a train at Cochise, a small depot outside of Wilcox, Arizona. They secured from this heist between $2,000 and $3,000. The crime remained unsolved. The gang was not identified till over one year later, in the wake of their most famous robbery in Fairbank. The New Mexico and Arizona railroad still came through the valley with regularity, moving passengers to and from Mexico, as well as massive shipments of cattle. Money moved on the railroad as well, making fine targets for bandits.
An Arizona lawman and his wife were taking a ride in their car, traveling back to their ranch, when she dozed off for a nap. She suddenly was awakened. “We were driving up the last long mesa to our ranch near the Arizona border when I woke from a brief nap against my husband’s shoulder to hear him say with a chuckle, ‘They told me at the hospital that my left arm would never be anything but a useless lump of flesh, always in the way, but, by jolly, here I am driving my car with one hand and hugging my wife with the other.’ And then I learned another chapter in the story of the battle in which he won that badge of courage, his crippled arm, and the longer and harder fought struggle he made to keep it.” Though clearly written with the sentiment of a proud wife, her account describes Jeff Milton, a well-respected man of formidable reputation who had spent years on horseback chasing outlaws. A man of resolve and commitment, lawbreakers preferred to avoid him, while honest citizens were pleased to see him.
“At dawn of February 15th, 1900, five men broke camp in a canyon of the Dragoon Mountains and set out to ride, by different routes, down the long treeless slope to Fairbank, Arizona, in the valley of the San Pedro. Around their campfire, the night before, they arranged to meet at dusk in the river bottom near the point where, in the summer rains, Walnut gulch pours its sudden floods into the river. And they took [a] mutual oath before parting, pledging themselves to kill the first man of them who should show fear when they came to carry out the thing they had planned to do.
“Behind them, across the mountains in Wilcox and Pearce were Burt Alvord, deputy-sheriff of Cochise County, and Billy Stiles, constable, leaders of a gang of rustlers, train-robbers, and cold-blooded killers of unarmed men, for no man was allowed to live who might suspect them of complicity in the outbreak of crime in that section.
“When the gang decided to hold up the [N. M. & A.] train at Fairbank, it had been agreed it should be done on a day when Wells Fargo express messenger Jeff Milton was not on the train…none of the Stiles-Alvord gang wanted to tangle with him. It seemed a simple matter to arrange, for Styles and Jeff were old-time acquaintances. In fact, Jeff had brought Billy to Cochise County a few years earlier as one of a posse on a hunt for outlaws. Jeff says Billy was a pretty good fellow before he went broncho. [rough, wild]
“Jeff used to ‘lay over’ in Nogales a day or two after his run to Gu[a]ymas, Sonora, on the west coast of Mexico, before making his trip to Benson and back and when Billy came from Wilcox to Nogales for a day, Jeff was glad to see his old compadre. Billy said he wanted to introduce a mining man to Jeff and asked him to let him know in advance just when he would make his next run to Benson, so Billy could make the necessary arrangements.” But the arrangements Stiles was really making were not to meet Milton with his imaginary “mining man,” but rather to avoid Milton when Stiles and his gang planned to rob the train at Fairbank. A trusting Milton never saw through Stiles’ plan. Milton’s wife described him as having “warm, friendly eyes [that] registered everything they saw on Jeff’s photographic memory.” She also recalled someone once saying to her that Jeff had eyes “too kind for an officer…”
Styles would understandably think that this arrangement would keep himself and his gang safe from Milton at Fairbank, but an unanticipated situation would serve to change the course of events. “But when Jeff, coming up from Gu[a]ymas on his next trip, received orders to go on through, relieving a messenger who had been suddenly taken ill, he completely forgot his agreement with Styles.” With the Stiles Alvord gang traveling in from the East, and Jeff Milton traveling along the N.M. & A. up from Nogales, the busy railroad stop of Fairbank was about to experience one of its most infamous incidents. “It was about dark that February afternoon, when the train…pulled into Fairbank. At that time Fairbank was a lively little community since it was the point where all mail, express, and freight to and from Tombstone was handled. The stage was waiting for passengers, and the usual crowd gathered on the station platform. As the train slowed down, Jeff threw open the door of the express car, greeted the Wells Fargo clerk, and began handing out packages. Suddenly a voice cried, ‘Hands up.’
“‘What’s going on around here?’ Jeff asked the clerk. ‘Just a bunch of drunken cowboys having a little joke, I reckon,’ was the reply. ‘Poor kind of joke. Apt to get somebody killed sometime,’ said Jeff, passing out another package. ‘Throw up your hands and come out of there,’ cried the voice. A shot sounded and Jeff’s Stetson [hat] left his head.
“‘If there’s anything you want, come and get it,’ shouted Jeff, reaching for the sawed-off, double-barreled shotgun which stood beside the door.
“Then from behind the by-standers whom they had lined up on the platform, five men, with high-powered 38.55 rifles, began pumping soft-nosed bullets at the white-shirted figure, a fine target with the light of the car at his back.
“Frightened by the noise, the stage horses were prancing, and the driver, [Ed Tarbell, see following account] who had left his high perch when the train came in, started to run toward them, but was menaced by a gun and ordered to stop. A rancher, nearly half a mile down the track, heard the fusillade and got up from the suppertable and went to his barn, thinking his horses were loose in their stalls and kicking.
“With his pistol at hand, Jeff might have jumped from the car and gone into the fray, but that weapon was on his desk in the rear of the car. His shot-gun would cut down friends as well as foes. So, with his shirt in ribbons, his left arm and side bleeding where they had been creased by bullets, Jeff stood helpless through those seconds which seemed like hours. Then a bullet shattered the upper bone in his left arm and, at its impact, the stalwart figure swung half-way round and crashed to the floor of the car.
“As he fell, the gang left shelter and rushed the car. But Jeff, who in boyhood had learned to shoot with one hand, was not yet out of the fight.
“One barrel from his gun and one bandit, eleven buckshot in his body, was down crying, ‘Look out for that damned---. He’s shootin’ an’ shootin’ to kill.’
“A second bandit, with a buckshot warming the seat of his trousers, was leaving the fight and never stopped until safely across the line in Mexico.
“Half-fainting, Jeff pulled the door shut. Blood was spurting into his face from his wounded arm. He fixed his left hand in the handle of a trunk, and with his right, ripped what remained of his shirt sleeve up to his shoulder, and twisted it around his arm above the wounds. Then he fainted.” In spite of the preceding moments, Milton was fortunate that he hadn’t fainted seconds earlier. If so, he would have bled to death while unconscious.
With Milton unconscious, the robbers seized the opportunity, but not without caution. “Before they would risk entering the car, the three remaining bandits circled it, pouring round after round of ammunition into it. Even then, they sent the engineer of the train in ahead in case Jeff should be alive and still able to shoot. But Jeff was lying, apparently dead, between two heavy trunks, his dog whimpering over him.
“It was a fruitless victory. The bandits, who had not expected resistance, were unable to open the safe…” The robbers fled the scene of the crime. “In the riddled express car, Jeff came to consciousness to find his dog licking his face. ‘Shuckins’, he thought, ‘I’ve never been this drunk before.’
“Then came the voice of Homer Pricket, conductor of the train, and as friends entered the car, the realization of what had happened came to him.
“Authority was received over the wire from Tucson to back the train to Benson where a special [train] met it and conveyed the wounded messenger to the hospital in Tucson.
“Next morning early, an eager posse was trailing the bandits up Walnut Gulch between Tombstone and the Dragoons. In the foot-hills at Buckshot Springs, they found Three Fingered Dunlap, abandoned by his companions and left to die. In extreme anguish, the terribly wounded man had begged them not to leave him, but they were determined to go on without him. Then he implored them to put him out of his misery, swearing he would give the gang’s secret away if he were found alive. But they felt sure he had only a few minutes of life remaining and continued their flight.
“Three Fingered Jack lived for several days after being removed to Tombstone and made good his threat, implicating the two Owens boys, Bob Brown, and Bravo Juan, the man who had ‘hightailed it’ to Mexico, as well as Billy Styles and Burt Alvord, who, though not present, had planned the robbery.
“It was difficult, at first, for people to believe that these two men, respected in the community, could be concerned in the violence of the past months, but on Jack’s testimony, the members of the gang were arrested and put in jail in Tombstone….Meanwhile, in Tucson, and later in San Francisco, Jeff was fighting to save his arm from amputation. Several inches of bone had been shattered and the doctors agreed he could not live unless the arm were removed at the shoulder, but Jeff felt he would rather be dead than to live with only one arm.
“One day his long-time friend, Frank King, was calling on him in the Tucson hospital. Jeff said, ‘King, get my six-shooter out of my bag and put it under my pillow. I’ll feel better with it there.’” Milton’s wounds would not heal, so his attending doctor, H. W. Fenner, sent him to the Southern Pacific Hospital in San Francisco.
“When next the doctor, also an old friend, came in, Jeff explained that it wouldn’t be safe for anyone to try to amputate his arm. He had been lying in the hospital in San Francisco for nearly eight months and had grown to be on good terms with the staff, when the head surgeon came into his room one day and sat down for a chat. They talked aimlessly for a time and then the doctor asked, ‘Have you ever made your will, Milton?’” By this time his arm was stinking and his left leg swollen the size of his body.
‘Why, no, Doc. Haven’t anything to will anybody.’ ‘Oh, you must have a lot of little stuff in Arizona that you would like some of your friend to have; and everyone has some arrangements to make.’
“He hesitated a moment and then continued, ‘A short time ago I got to thinking things over and made my will. Got everything straightened up. Something every man should do.’
“Jeff tried to show polite interest in what he felt did not concern him, but was startled into closest attention at the next words.
“‘We’ve decided to take your arm off at the shoulder day after to-morrow. It wont be dangerous, but you will be here in the hospital quite long time.’
‘See here, Doc…You remember when I first came I told you there’d be no arm taken off. Well, I’m still in the same frame of mind.’ ‘But if, by miracle you should recover without the operation, the arm would be just a dangling piece of flesh, always in the way.’
“At that Jeff rang the bell and when the nurse came in told her to have his bill made out.
“‘What’s that for?’ asked the surgeon. ‘I’m paying my bill and getting ou[t] of here today. That talk about wills doesn’t sound good to me.’
“‘But you can’t do that’, exclaimed the doctor, jumping up and approaching the bed. ‘We can’t permit you to leave, man. Think of the reputation of this hospital.’
“‘It’s my arm I’m thinking of, Doc,’ retorted Jeff, pounding each word out on the side of the bed with his good hand. ‘I’m quitting this place to-day and if anyone tries to stop me, he’ll be carried out feet foremost. Nurse, get that bill and call a carriage.’
‘There was, at that time in San Francisco, a celebrated surgeon whom Jeff had known well in Tombstone and Nogales, Dr. George Goodfellow. At one time he had said ‘Milton, you’re in [a] mighty dangerous business and some day you’ll get pretty badly shot up. If you aren’t killed outright and I can get to you, I’ll save your life. Don’t let anyone else touch you, but send for me and I’ll come at once.’
“The morning after the hold-up in Fairbank, Dr. Goodfellow saw an account of the fight in the papers and wired Wells Fargo’s office in Tucson. He learned Jeff had been operated on, the surgeons having cleaned the wound and attempted to reconstruct the missing framework from piano wire.
“Goodfellow was unreasonably hurt that Jeff had not sent for him, but Jeff was in no frame of mind for logical thinking nor for remembering Dr. Goodfellow’s promise when he reached the hospital. Now, however, Jeff had one of his friends call Dr. Goodfellow on the ’phone, and then accompany him to the Lane Hospital where Goodfellow took over the case, saying, ‘You and I will be down at Zincan’s in a few weeks, Milt, having a champagne supper.’
“The surgeon made good on his word, and eventually Jeff returned to Nogales, but with his left arm hanging helpless, the fingers of the hand tightly clenched, and even Dr. Goodfellow holding out no hope that hand and arm would ever [be] useful again.
“A man living in Nogales at the time says Jeff’s determination to regain the use of hand and arm, and the persistence of his efforts, together with the success which crowned them, will always be a lesson in the overcoming of handicaps. With several inches of the bone missing above the elbow joint, his arm had shortened. To his wrist Jeff tied a money sack filled with No. 8 shot. This hung just right to dangle against his closed fingers as he walked, and was a constant reminder to him to struggle with will and muscle to move the fingers and catch hold of the bag. The day came when his fingers made response, and in time they regained their normal strength and freedom of motion.
“Then, since the arm could not raise the hand, Jeff had to devise new ways of eating, tying his necktie, holding and driving a nail, shooting a rifle, and countless other activities. To-day he can do almost everything except ‘throw up both hands.’ It is problematic whether he would do that if he could.”
An Arizona lawman and his wife were taking a ride in their car, traveling back to their ranch, when she dozed off for a nap. She suddenly was awakened. “We were driving up the last long mesa to our ranch near the Arizona border when I woke from a brief nap against my husband’s shoulder to hear him say with a chuckle, ‘They told me at the hospital that my left arm would never be anything but a useless lump of flesh, always in the way, but, by jolly, here I am driving my car with one hand and hugging my wife with the other.’ And then I learned another chapter in the story of the battle in which he won that badge of courage, his crippled arm, and the longer and harder fought struggle he made to keep it.” Though clearly written with the sentiment of a proud wife, her account describes Jeff Milton, a well-respected man of formidable reputation who had spent years on horseback chasing outlaws. A man of resolve and commitment, lawbreakers preferred to avoid him, while honest citizens were pleased to see him.
“At dawn of February 15th, 1900, five men broke camp in a canyon of the Dragoon Mountains and set out to ride, by different routes, down the long treeless slope to Fairbank, Arizona, in the valley of the San Pedro. Around their campfire, the night before, they arranged to meet at dusk in the river bottom near the point where, in the summer rains, Walnut gulch pours its sudden floods into the river. And they took [a] mutual oath before parting, pledging themselves to kill the first man of them who should show fear when they came to carry out the thing they had planned to do.
“Behind them, across the mountains in Wilcox and Pearce were Burt Alvord, deputy-sheriff of Cochise County, and Billy Stiles, constable, leaders of a gang of rustlers, train-robbers, and cold-blooded killers of unarmed men, for no man was allowed to live who might suspect them of complicity in the outbreak of crime in that section.
“When the gang decided to hold up the [N. M. & A.] train at Fairbank, it had been agreed it should be done on a day when Wells Fargo express messenger Jeff Milton was not on the train…none of the Stiles-Alvord gang wanted to tangle with him. It seemed a simple matter to arrange, for Styles and Jeff were old-time acquaintances. In fact, Jeff had brought Billy to Cochise County a few years earlier as one of a posse on a hunt for outlaws. Jeff says Billy was a pretty good fellow before he went broncho. [rough, wild]
“Jeff used to ‘lay over’ in Nogales a day or two after his run to Gu[a]ymas, Sonora, on the west coast of Mexico, before making his trip to Benson and back and when Billy came from Wilcox to Nogales for a day, Jeff was glad to see his old compadre. Billy said he wanted to introduce a mining man to Jeff and asked him to let him know in advance just when he would make his next run to Benson, so Billy could make the necessary arrangements.” But the arrangements Stiles was really making were not to meet Milton with his imaginary “mining man,” but rather to avoid Milton when Stiles and his gang planned to rob the train at Fairbank. A trusting Milton never saw through Stiles’ plan. Milton’s wife described him as having “warm, friendly eyes [that] registered everything they saw on Jeff’s photographic memory.” She also recalled someone once saying to her that Jeff had eyes “too kind for an officer…”
Styles would understandably think that this arrangement would keep himself and his gang safe from Milton at Fairbank, but an unanticipated situation would serve to change the course of events. “But when Jeff, coming up from Gu[a]ymas on his next trip, received orders to go on through, relieving a messenger who had been suddenly taken ill, he completely forgot his agreement with Styles.” With the Stiles Alvord gang traveling in from the East, and Jeff Milton traveling along the N.M. & A. up from Nogales, the busy railroad stop of Fairbank was about to experience one of its most infamous incidents. “It was about dark that February afternoon, when the train…pulled into Fairbank. At that time Fairbank was a lively little community since it was the point where all mail, express, and freight to and from Tombstone was handled. The stage was waiting for passengers, and the usual crowd gathered on the station platform. As the train slowed down, Jeff threw open the door of the express car, greeted the Wells Fargo clerk, and began handing out packages. Suddenly a voice cried, ‘Hands up.’
“‘What’s going on around here?’ Jeff asked the clerk. ‘Just a bunch of drunken cowboys having a little joke, I reckon,’ was the reply. ‘Poor kind of joke. Apt to get somebody killed sometime,’ said Jeff, passing out another package. ‘Throw up your hands and come out of there,’ cried the voice. A shot sounded and Jeff’s Stetson [hat] left his head.
“‘If there’s anything you want, come and get it,’ shouted Jeff, reaching for the sawed-off, double-barreled shotgun which stood beside the door.
“Then from behind the by-standers whom they had lined up on the platform, five men, with high-powered 38.55 rifles, began pumping soft-nosed bullets at the white-shirted figure, a fine target with the light of the car at his back.
“Frightened by the noise, the stage horses were prancing, and the driver, [Ed Tarbell, see following account] who had left his high perch when the train came in, started to run toward them, but was menaced by a gun and ordered to stop. A rancher, nearly half a mile down the track, heard the fusillade and got up from the suppertable and went to his barn, thinking his horses were loose in their stalls and kicking.
“With his pistol at hand, Jeff might have jumped from the car and gone into the fray, but that weapon was on his desk in the rear of the car. His shot-gun would cut down friends as well as foes. So, with his shirt in ribbons, his left arm and side bleeding where they had been creased by bullets, Jeff stood helpless through those seconds which seemed like hours. Then a bullet shattered the upper bone in his left arm and, at its impact, the stalwart figure swung half-way round and crashed to the floor of the car.
“As he fell, the gang left shelter and rushed the car. But Jeff, who in boyhood had learned to shoot with one hand, was not yet out of the fight.
“One barrel from his gun and one bandit, eleven buckshot in his body, was down crying, ‘Look out for that damned---. He’s shootin’ an’ shootin’ to kill.’
“A second bandit, with a buckshot warming the seat of his trousers, was leaving the fight and never stopped until safely across the line in Mexico.
“Half-fainting, Jeff pulled the door shut. Blood was spurting into his face from his wounded arm. He fixed his left hand in the handle of a trunk, and with his right, ripped what remained of his shirt sleeve up to his shoulder, and twisted it around his arm above the wounds. Then he fainted.” In spite of the preceding moments, Milton was fortunate that he hadn’t fainted seconds earlier. If so, he would have bled to death while unconscious.
With Milton unconscious, the robbers seized the opportunity, but not without caution. “Before they would risk entering the car, the three remaining bandits circled it, pouring round after round of ammunition into it. Even then, they sent the engineer of the train in ahead in case Jeff should be alive and still able to shoot. But Jeff was lying, apparently dead, between two heavy trunks, his dog whimpering over him.
“It was a fruitless victory. The bandits, who had not expected resistance, were unable to open the safe…” The robbers fled the scene of the crime. “In the riddled express car, Jeff came to consciousness to find his dog licking his face. ‘Shuckins’, he thought, ‘I’ve never been this drunk before.’
“Then came the voice of Homer Pricket, conductor of the train, and as friends entered the car, the realization of what had happened came to him.
“Authority was received over the wire from Tucson to back the train to Benson where a special [train] met it and conveyed the wounded messenger to the hospital in Tucson.
“Next morning early, an eager posse was trailing the bandits up Walnut Gulch between Tombstone and the Dragoons. In the foot-hills at Buckshot Springs, they found Three Fingered Dunlap, abandoned by his companions and left to die. In extreme anguish, the terribly wounded man had begged them not to leave him, but they were determined to go on without him. Then he implored them to put him out of his misery, swearing he would give the gang’s secret away if he were found alive. But they felt sure he had only a few minutes of life remaining and continued their flight.
“Three Fingered Jack lived for several days after being removed to Tombstone and made good his threat, implicating the two Owens boys, Bob Brown, and Bravo Juan, the man who had ‘hightailed it’ to Mexico, as well as Billy Styles and Burt Alvord, who, though not present, had planned the robbery.
“It was difficult, at first, for people to believe that these two men, respected in the community, could be concerned in the violence of the past months, but on Jack’s testimony, the members of the gang were arrested and put in jail in Tombstone….Meanwhile, in Tucson, and later in San Francisco, Jeff was fighting to save his arm from amputation. Several inches of bone had been shattered and the doctors agreed he could not live unless the arm were removed at the shoulder, but Jeff felt he would rather be dead than to live with only one arm.
“One day his long-time friend, Frank King, was calling on him in the Tucson hospital. Jeff said, ‘King, get my six-shooter out of my bag and put it under my pillow. I’ll feel better with it there.’” Milton’s wounds would not heal, so his attending doctor, H. W. Fenner, sent him to the Southern Pacific Hospital in San Francisco.
“When next the doctor, also an old friend, came in, Jeff explained that it wouldn’t be safe for anyone to try to amputate his arm. He had been lying in the hospital in San Francisco for nearly eight months and had grown to be on good terms with the staff, when the head surgeon came into his room one day and sat down for a chat. They talked aimlessly for a time and then the doctor asked, ‘Have you ever made your will, Milton?’” By this time his arm was stinking and his left leg swollen the size of his body.
‘Why, no, Doc. Haven’t anything to will anybody.’ ‘Oh, you must have a lot of little stuff in Arizona that you would like some of your friend to have; and everyone has some arrangements to make.’
“He hesitated a moment and then continued, ‘A short time ago I got to thinking things over and made my will. Got everything straightened up. Something every man should do.’
“Jeff tried to show polite interest in what he felt did not concern him, but was startled into closest attention at the next words.
“‘We’ve decided to take your arm off at the shoulder day after to-morrow. It wont be dangerous, but you will be here in the hospital quite long time.’
‘See here, Doc…You remember when I first came I told you there’d be no arm taken off. Well, I’m still in the same frame of mind.’ ‘But if, by miracle you should recover without the operation, the arm would be just a dangling piece of flesh, always in the way.’
“At that Jeff rang the bell and when the nurse came in told her to have his bill made out.
“‘What’s that for?’ asked the surgeon. ‘I’m paying my bill and getting ou[t] of here today. That talk about wills doesn’t sound good to me.’
“‘But you can’t do that’, exclaimed the doctor, jumping up and approaching the bed. ‘We can’t permit you to leave, man. Think of the reputation of this hospital.’
“‘It’s my arm I’m thinking of, Doc,’ retorted Jeff, pounding each word out on the side of the bed with his good hand. ‘I’m quitting this place to-day and if anyone tries to stop me, he’ll be carried out feet foremost. Nurse, get that bill and call a carriage.’
‘There was, at that time in San Francisco, a celebrated surgeon whom Jeff had known well in Tombstone and Nogales, Dr. George Goodfellow. At one time he had said ‘Milton, you’re in [a] mighty dangerous business and some day you’ll get pretty badly shot up. If you aren’t killed outright and I can get to you, I’ll save your life. Don’t let anyone else touch you, but send for me and I’ll come at once.’
“The morning after the hold-up in Fairbank, Dr. Goodfellow saw an account of the fight in the papers and wired Wells Fargo’s office in Tucson. He learned Jeff had been operated on, the surgeons having cleaned the wound and attempted to reconstruct the missing framework from piano wire.
“Goodfellow was unreasonably hurt that Jeff had not sent for him, but Jeff was in no frame of mind for logical thinking nor for remembering Dr. Goodfellow’s promise when he reached the hospital. Now, however, Jeff had one of his friends call Dr. Goodfellow on the ’phone, and then accompany him to the Lane Hospital where Goodfellow took over the case, saying, ‘You and I will be down at Zincan’s in a few weeks, Milt, having a champagne supper.’
“The surgeon made good on his word, and eventually Jeff returned to Nogales, but with his left arm hanging helpless, the fingers of the hand tightly clenched, and even Dr. Goodfellow holding out no hope that hand and arm would ever [be] useful again.
“A man living in Nogales at the time says Jeff’s determination to regain the use of hand and arm, and the persistence of his efforts, together with the success which crowned them, will always be a lesson in the overcoming of handicaps. With several inches of the bone missing above the elbow joint, his arm had shortened. To his wrist Jeff tied a money sack filled with No. 8 shot. This hung just right to dangle against his closed fingers as he walked, and was a constant reminder to him to struggle with will and muscle to move the fingers and catch hold of the bag. The day came when his fingers made response, and in time they regained their normal strength and freedom of motion.
“Then, since the arm could not raise the hand, Jeff had to devise new ways of eating, tying his necktie, holding and driving a nail, shooting a rifle, and countless other activities. To-day he can do almost everything except ‘throw up both hands.’ It is problematic whether he would do that if he could.”
A FAIRBANK SHOOTOUT
“A HOLD UP The N.M. & A. Train Held Up at Fairbank
ONE ROBBER CAUGHT ‘Three Fingered Jack’ is Wounded and Run Down By the Posse.
“A HOLD UP The N.M. & A. Train Held Up at Fairbank
ONE ROBBER CAUGHT ‘Three Fingered Jack’ is Wounded and Run Down By the Posse.
MESSENGER MILTON SHOT”
“Fairbank was the scene of a hold up last night, three masked men armed to the teeth making a raid on the N.M. & A, train just as the north bound passenger train pulled into and stopped at the station.
The movements of the robbers and their methods would indicate that they were no novices in their work, exhibiting plenty of nerve and reckless courage and during their brief stay made things very exciting as a hold up usually is. The robbers secured but little booty for their trouble and although various reports are given out as to the amount of money secured it is authentically stated that but one package, containing $17 in Mexican money, which happened to be out of the safe in the express car is missing.
“The particulars as learned by the Prospector from several eye witnesses is to the effect that as soon as the train stopped and the agents and helpers were busy unloading and loading mail and express matter, three men were seen to emerge from the side of the depot platform. One of the three men went to the engine and the other two hurried to the express car, ordering everybody to throw up their hands and immediately began shooting by way of enforcing the order. The bystanders, with hands aloft, were somewhat scattered and the leader commanded all to ‘bunch up’ punctuating his remarks with comprehensive profanity. It is needless to say all hastened to obey. Presently the engineer and fireman came from their post and were marched to the crowd w[h]ere they were also commanded to remain with hands up. The first robber who stopped at the engine had marched the two railroaders to the crowd at the point of a pistol.
“Meanwhile a fussil[l]ade of shots was kept up and the mail and express car was perforated with shots. Express Messenger J.D. [Jeff] Milton appeared at the door of his car with a Winchester and began firing at the robbers. At the first fire from Milton one of the robbers was positively seen to fall to the ground. Whether he was wounded or not is not known but he returned the fire as did also the others, when suddenly Milton dropped having been shot in the right arm. At this exciting moment the horses on the Tombstone stage, who were nearby, became frightened from the shooting and started to run away. Driver Ed Tarbell, who was in the ‘bunched’ crowd started to head them off when one of the robbers sternly ordered him to halt, Ed wisely halted. Then the robber who had fallen to the ground as stated above, fired several shots at the fleeing animals, one bullet taking effect…and effectually stopped the runaway although at the probable cost of the horse which may die.
“When it was evident that Milton was helpless, one of the robbers climbed into the express car with a sack and hurriedly rummaged through papers, packages etc. The…safe was locked and but little value was found. Quite a number of things were overlooked in the hurry of the robber and no attempt was made to blow open or have the messenger unlock the iron box. It is said but one package containing $17 Mexican money is gone…
“The leader of the robbers then turned his attention to the depot and inquired of the ‘crowd’ where the agent was. Agent Gay was in the ‘bunched crowd’ but discretly [sic] kept silent and none of the others cared to impart…his whereabouts. With another voluminous outburst of profanity, the robber went to the door of the depot which was locked. He kicked down the door, walked in, found all the safes locked and came out empty handed. The three robbers walked off together going west of the depot where it is presumed they had horses ready in waiting.
“The train immediately backed to Benson for medical assistance for Messenger Milton. It is understood the bones in his arm are so shattered that amputation will be necessary. The injury to Milton is to be regretted. He was a brave and efficient officer and well know[n] here.
“A Sheriff’s posse was organized last night in Tombstone and were at the scene as soon as possible. Trailing was impossible last night as no trails could be found. This morning more officers were sent out and notifications were dispatched in every direct ion to keep a sharp lookout. No clew whatever is had to the identity of the robbers thus far.”
The case would break open quickly. “LATER. Just as we go to press Deputy Sheriff Geo [George] Bravin arrived with the information that one of the robbers was found and proved to be Three Fingered Jack, the notorious character who was recently released from the county jail here [Tombstone]. Jack was found shot in the abdomen being the wound he received from Messenger Milton during the hold up. ” One by one, the robbers were hunted down and brought to justice.
The movements of the robbers and their methods would indicate that they were no novices in their work, exhibiting plenty of nerve and reckless courage and during their brief stay made things very exciting as a hold up usually is. The robbers secured but little booty for their trouble and although various reports are given out as to the amount of money secured it is authentically stated that but one package, containing $17 in Mexican money, which happened to be out of the safe in the express car is missing.
“The particulars as learned by the Prospector from several eye witnesses is to the effect that as soon as the train stopped and the agents and helpers were busy unloading and loading mail and express matter, three men were seen to emerge from the side of the depot platform. One of the three men went to the engine and the other two hurried to the express car, ordering everybody to throw up their hands and immediately began shooting by way of enforcing the order. The bystanders, with hands aloft, were somewhat scattered and the leader commanded all to ‘bunch up’ punctuating his remarks with comprehensive profanity. It is needless to say all hastened to obey. Presently the engineer and fireman came from their post and were marched to the crowd w[h]ere they were also commanded to remain with hands up. The first robber who stopped at the engine had marched the two railroaders to the crowd at the point of a pistol.
“Meanwhile a fussil[l]ade of shots was kept up and the mail and express car was perforated with shots. Express Messenger J.D. [Jeff] Milton appeared at the door of his car with a Winchester and began firing at the robbers. At the first fire from Milton one of the robbers was positively seen to fall to the ground. Whether he was wounded or not is not known but he returned the fire as did also the others, when suddenly Milton dropped having been shot in the right arm. At this exciting moment the horses on the Tombstone stage, who were nearby, became frightened from the shooting and started to run away. Driver Ed Tarbell, who was in the ‘bunched’ crowd started to head them off when one of the robbers sternly ordered him to halt, Ed wisely halted. Then the robber who had fallen to the ground as stated above, fired several shots at the fleeing animals, one bullet taking effect…and effectually stopped the runaway although at the probable cost of the horse which may die.
“When it was evident that Milton was helpless, one of the robbers climbed into the express car with a sack and hurriedly rummaged through papers, packages etc. The…safe was locked and but little value was found. Quite a number of things were overlooked in the hurry of the robber and no attempt was made to blow open or have the messenger unlock the iron box. It is said but one package containing $17 Mexican money is gone…
“The leader of the robbers then turned his attention to the depot and inquired of the ‘crowd’ where the agent was. Agent Gay was in the ‘bunched crowd’ but discretly [sic] kept silent and none of the others cared to impart…his whereabouts. With another voluminous outburst of profanity, the robber went to the door of the depot which was locked. He kicked down the door, walked in, found all the safes locked and came out empty handed. The three robbers walked off together going west of the depot where it is presumed they had horses ready in waiting.
“The train immediately backed to Benson for medical assistance for Messenger Milton. It is understood the bones in his arm are so shattered that amputation will be necessary. The injury to Milton is to be regretted. He was a brave and efficient officer and well know[n] here.
“A Sheriff’s posse was organized last night in Tombstone and were at the scene as soon as possible. Trailing was impossible last night as no trails could be found. This morning more officers were sent out and notifications were dispatched in every direct ion to keep a sharp lookout. No clew whatever is had to the identity of the robbers thus far.”
The case would break open quickly. “LATER. Just as we go to press Deputy Sheriff Geo [George] Bravin arrived with the information that one of the robbers was found and proved to be Three Fingered Jack, the notorious character who was recently released from the county jail here [Tombstone]. Jack was found shot in the abdomen being the wound he received from Messenger Milton during the hold up. ” One by one, the robbers were hunted down and brought to justice.
“BRAVO JOHN”
“The strong Testimony Which Held Him to Answer”
“The strong Testimony Which Held Him to Answer”
“The examination of Thos Yoea, otherwise known as ‘Bravo John’ on U S charge of obstructing U.S. mail was had before Commissioner Emanuel this afternoon. ‘Bravo John’ had no attorney and did not care for one. ‘Bravo John’ is charged with being one of the five who held up the…train at Fairbank on Feb 15th. There were but three witnesses for the prosecution, Ed Tarbell whose testimony was to show that he witnessed the hold up. Deputy Sheriff Mullen one of the posse on the trail of the robbers told of the chase and running onto Three Fingered Jack lying wounded on the prairie. The deputy told of Three Fingered Jack’s dying statement saying that the Owing Brothers, Bravo John, John Brown and himself had robbed the train. ‘Bravo John’ was identified as the man referred to by Three Fingered Jack.
“W N [William,aka, Billy] Stiles, the confessed train robber in the Cochise holdup, was also an important witness in this case. He stated that he [had] seen the five men just named, at a ranch in the valley and they informed him that the party proposed to hold up the train at Fairbank on the night that the robbery was committed. The Owing Brothers had told him that they just sold their cattle and proposed making a haul and get out of the country. ‘Bravo John’ was present and one of the number.
“When the prisoner was asked if he cared to question witnesses he replied no and also refused to make any statement. Court Commissioner Emanuel held the prisoner over to await the action of the grand jury under bond of $10,000.
“The cases of Owing Bros and Bravo John also Downing and Alvord under territorial charges of trainrobbery will come up tomorrow.
“J.D. Milton, the fearless Wells Fargo messenger, who several weeks ago at Fairbanks sent one robber to the other side, was out yesterday from the hospital. Mr. Milton said that he still felt a pain in his left arm, the result of wounds inflicted by the robbers, and was otherwise better. The injured arm will be in plaster [of] paris for a long time and in the end it will be two inches shorter.”
“W N [William,aka, Billy] Stiles, the confessed train robber in the Cochise holdup, was also an important witness in this case. He stated that he [had] seen the five men just named, at a ranch in the valley and they informed him that the party proposed to hold up the train at Fairbank on the night that the robbery was committed. The Owing Brothers had told him that they just sold their cattle and proposed making a haul and get out of the country. ‘Bravo John’ was present and one of the number.
“When the prisoner was asked if he cared to question witnesses he replied no and also refused to make any statement. Court Commissioner Emanuel held the prisoner over to await the action of the grand jury under bond of $10,000.
“The cases of Owing Bros and Bravo John also Downing and Alvord under territorial charges of trainrobbery will come up tomorrow.
“J.D. Milton, the fearless Wells Fargo messenger, who several weeks ago at Fairbanks sent one robber to the other side, was out yesterday from the hospital. Mr. Milton said that he still felt a pain in his left arm, the result of wounds inflicted by the robbers, and was otherwise better. The injured arm will be in plaster [of] paris for a long time and in the end it will be two inches shorter.”
NO HONOR AMONG THIEVES
“JAIL DELIVERY Wm Stiles, Who Turned States Evidence, the Liberator
DEPUTY BRAVIN WOUNDED
Burt Alvord, Bravo John and Stiles Get Away…Posse in Pursuit
OTHER PRISONERS STAY
Halderman Brothers and the others Choose to Remain-Calmness of the Deputy
THE PRISONERS KINDNESS”
“JAIL DELIVERY Wm Stiles, Who Turned States Evidence, the Liberator
DEPUTY BRAVIN WOUNDED
Burt Alvord, Bravo John and Stiles Get Away…Posse in Pursuit
OTHER PRISONERS STAY
Halderman Brothers and the others Choose to Remain-Calmness of the Deputy
THE PRISONERS KINDNESS”
“About 3 p m Tombstone was thrown into a fever of excitement, the like of which has not visited our city since the days of the hanging of [John] Heath by an indignant mob. The occasion for this was the news of a jail break at the county jail and the shooting of Deputy Sheriff Geo Bravin who was wounded in an attempt to block the break for liberty.
“Despite the most precautionary measures taken by the Sheriff’s office to guard against any attack of friends of the prisoners in jail on [the] charge of train robbery to secure their release by force, as was feared, the expected happened, but from a source that was never suspicioned, the dastardly work being done by Wm Stiles, the self confessed train robber who turned states evidence against his pals, then further proved his treachery by attempting to help them escape from jail, even at the sacrifice of the lives of any who might stand in the way. Fortunately the brave Deputy Sheriff, Geo Bravin, was not killed though he had a most narrow escape.
“Last evening Matt Burts was brought over from the Tucson jail for his preliminary examination here for train robbery. Wm Stiles the principal witness who turned states evidence, also arrived to testify. It was deemed advisable by the authorities and prosecution not to place Burts in jail in company with the other prisoners on some charge for reasons that are obvious. As a consequence Burts was under guard of the two deputies. His trial was to be had today and was again to be taken to the Tucson jail tomorrow.
“While the guards were away from the jail with Burts, Deputy Sheriff Bravin was left alone in charge of the jail. Wm Stiles, who, up to this time had helped the officers in everyway to prosecute his pals, and who was believed to be the last man to even think of aiding in a jail break, suddenly pushed a six shooter at Deputy Bravin, while in the front jail room and commanded him to deliver the keys of the jail. Bravin was unarmed…Bravin…knocked at the pistol of his assailant. At the same time Stiles shot and the Deputy fell. Stiles in an instant secured the keys and opened the main cell doors inviting all the prisoners to make a break for liberty. Burt Alvord and ‘Bravo John’ both charged with train robbery came out and, rushing to the front with Stiles, took three Winchester rifles and two six shooters…and hurriedly left, the three going down Fremont street to the ranch of John Escapule below town where they stole two horses, grazing near, and rode off toward the Dragoons two of the men riding one horse.
“The opportunity to escape was offered to the entire 24 prisoners in jail. As the Halderman brothers came out, Deputy Bravin spoke to them saying kindly that they better not attempt escape as they would not have time to get away. Both of the condemned men said: ‘all right George, we’ll stay.’ Wm Downing one of the accused train robbers refused to go at all as was also the case of the Owen brothers under the same charge: Sid Page also remained inside. Several of the other prisoners started to go and one prisoner named Griffith, at the request of the deputy, closed the iron door bars.
“The Halderman brothers seeing the wounded condition of the deputy, together with the other prisoners, carried him to a bed in the ante room and endeavored to relieve his pains.
“A few minutes after the escape several posses were in pursuit and are believed to be but a short distance behind the three fugitives. Many determined men offered their services and were sent out. The feeling runs high and should the escape[e]s be recaptured the probability for a lynching is exceedingly good.
“Bravin is shot through the calf of his leg the bullet passing below his knee, through the leg and taking off two toes on his other foot. He is resting easy at his home under the medical care of Dr. Walter. Up to this writing no news from the posses has been had.”
There would be no quick capture of this group. Nearly a month later a substantial reward was being offered. “A total reward of $1500 is now out on the heads of the Tombstone jail escape[e]s, Bert [Burt] Alvord, Wm. Stiles and Thos. Yoes, otherwise known as Bravo John.”
“Bob Brown charged with being one of the Fairbank train robbers, was brought to Tombstone yesterday from Texas, where he was arrested, and is now in the Tombstone jail. Brown made no resistance enroute and quietly came with the officer. He protests his innocence of the crime charged against him and expects to prove his case at the coming term of court.”
“Despite the most precautionary measures taken by the Sheriff’s office to guard against any attack of friends of the prisoners in jail on [the] charge of train robbery to secure their release by force, as was feared, the expected happened, but from a source that was never suspicioned, the dastardly work being done by Wm Stiles, the self confessed train robber who turned states evidence against his pals, then further proved his treachery by attempting to help them escape from jail, even at the sacrifice of the lives of any who might stand in the way. Fortunately the brave Deputy Sheriff, Geo Bravin, was not killed though he had a most narrow escape.
“Last evening Matt Burts was brought over from the Tucson jail for his preliminary examination here for train robbery. Wm Stiles the principal witness who turned states evidence, also arrived to testify. It was deemed advisable by the authorities and prosecution not to place Burts in jail in company with the other prisoners on some charge for reasons that are obvious. As a consequence Burts was under guard of the two deputies. His trial was to be had today and was again to be taken to the Tucson jail tomorrow.
“While the guards were away from the jail with Burts, Deputy Sheriff Bravin was left alone in charge of the jail. Wm Stiles, who, up to this time had helped the officers in everyway to prosecute his pals, and who was believed to be the last man to even think of aiding in a jail break, suddenly pushed a six shooter at Deputy Bravin, while in the front jail room and commanded him to deliver the keys of the jail. Bravin was unarmed…Bravin…knocked at the pistol of his assailant. At the same time Stiles shot and the Deputy fell. Stiles in an instant secured the keys and opened the main cell doors inviting all the prisoners to make a break for liberty. Burt Alvord and ‘Bravo John’ both charged with train robbery came out and, rushing to the front with Stiles, took three Winchester rifles and two six shooters…and hurriedly left, the three going down Fremont street to the ranch of John Escapule below town where they stole two horses, grazing near, and rode off toward the Dragoons two of the men riding one horse.
“The opportunity to escape was offered to the entire 24 prisoners in jail. As the Halderman brothers came out, Deputy Bravin spoke to them saying kindly that they better not attempt escape as they would not have time to get away. Both of the condemned men said: ‘all right George, we’ll stay.’ Wm Downing one of the accused train robbers refused to go at all as was also the case of the Owen brothers under the same charge: Sid Page also remained inside. Several of the other prisoners started to go and one prisoner named Griffith, at the request of the deputy, closed the iron door bars.
“The Halderman brothers seeing the wounded condition of the deputy, together with the other prisoners, carried him to a bed in the ante room and endeavored to relieve his pains.
“A few minutes after the escape several posses were in pursuit and are believed to be but a short distance behind the three fugitives. Many determined men offered their services and were sent out. The feeling runs high and should the escape[e]s be recaptured the probability for a lynching is exceedingly good.
“Bravin is shot through the calf of his leg the bullet passing below his knee, through the leg and taking off two toes on his other foot. He is resting easy at his home under the medical care of Dr. Walter. Up to this writing no news from the posses has been had.”
There would be no quick capture of this group. Nearly a month later a substantial reward was being offered. “A total reward of $1500 is now out on the heads of the Tombstone jail escape[e]s, Bert [Burt] Alvord, Wm. Stiles and Thos. Yoes, otherwise known as Bravo John.”
“Bob Brown charged with being one of the Fairbank train robbers, was brought to Tombstone yesterday from Texas, where he was arrested, and is now in the Tombstone jail. Brown made no resistance enroute and quietly came with the officer. He protests his innocence of the crime charged against him and expects to prove his case at the coming term of court.”
THE PLOT THICKENS
“A Confession of the Fairbank Train Robbery
“A Confession of the Fairbank Train Robbery
“…there was a sensation in the district court at Tucson yesterday when George Owings confessed the charge of train robbery in which he was implicated with Brown and several others. It was during the trial of Brown, the man who is said to be the leader of the band…Owings took the step he did without solicitation, it was as much a surprise to the district attorney as to the crowd that assembled in the court room to witness the trial.
“The confession was complete, the story was told with graphic effect, every detail and circumstance of the Fairbank holdup, the days of planning, the craftiness of Burt Alvord in providing protection for the men who were to take part in the affair, the preparation for the first nefarious work of the band which was to be but a beginning of a series of holdups. It was a scene which might form the foundation for a yellow-back novel, and the story would be one of more, than ordinary interest in thrilling scenes and picturesque description.
“George Owings and Louis Owings were arrested along with Alvord, Stiles, Bravo Juan [aka, Bravo John], Downing, [Matt] Burts and Brown soon after the Fairbank hold-up. Very little was known of the Owings brothers and but for the confessions made by Three-Fingered Jack when he was found dying upon [the] trail of the fleeing bandits these men would probably not have been suspected…Owings told of the part taken by Alvord, how he organized the gang, commissioned Bravo Juan the captain of the crowd, and secured men in Wilcox who would give their testimony that the men were innocently playing cards in a saloon in some town or camp at the time of the hold-up. Every possible protection was made, every care of the successful consummation of the crime, and Alvord looked after the preparation to the last. But he remained behind and let the others do the work. Owings’ confession left the defense of Brown in a precarious position, for Owings, too, was to be tried for interfering with the United States mail. When he was taken back to his cell he told his brother what he had done, and Louis this morning came into court and pleaded guilty along with George.”
By the following December Billy Stiles and Matt Burts were back in custody and testifying at the Downing hearing. It revealed a remarkable tail of outlawry, theft, treachery, and proof that this was not the happiest bunch of criminals, nor did they all get along with each other. Matt Burts admitted that “He would like to see Downing’s neck broke.” Stiles made light of his treachery to the authorities who had trusted him saying “…the whole matter of the Cochise county jail delivery was gone over.” The Stiles Alvord gang would long be remembered less for their crimes, and more for the treachery of Billy Stiles, who betrayed his outlaw comrades by first testifying against them, gaining the trust of Deputy Sheriff Bravin, and then shooting him in favor of their escape. Jeff Milton would remain a lawman, later bringing to justice the perpetrator of a bank robbery in Tombstone.
“The confession was complete, the story was told with graphic effect, every detail and circumstance of the Fairbank holdup, the days of planning, the craftiness of Burt Alvord in providing protection for the men who were to take part in the affair, the preparation for the first nefarious work of the band which was to be but a beginning of a series of holdups. It was a scene which might form the foundation for a yellow-back novel, and the story would be one of more, than ordinary interest in thrilling scenes and picturesque description.
“George Owings and Louis Owings were arrested along with Alvord, Stiles, Bravo Juan [aka, Bravo John], Downing, [Matt] Burts and Brown soon after the Fairbank hold-up. Very little was known of the Owings brothers and but for the confessions made by Three-Fingered Jack when he was found dying upon [the] trail of the fleeing bandits these men would probably not have been suspected…Owings told of the part taken by Alvord, how he organized the gang, commissioned Bravo Juan the captain of the crowd, and secured men in Wilcox who would give their testimony that the men were innocently playing cards in a saloon in some town or camp at the time of the hold-up. Every possible protection was made, every care of the successful consummation of the crime, and Alvord looked after the preparation to the last. But he remained behind and let the others do the work. Owings’ confession left the defense of Brown in a precarious position, for Owings, too, was to be tried for interfering with the United States mail. When he was taken back to his cell he told his brother what he had done, and Louis this morning came into court and pleaded guilty along with George.”
By the following December Billy Stiles and Matt Burts were back in custody and testifying at the Downing hearing. It revealed a remarkable tail of outlawry, theft, treachery, and proof that this was not the happiest bunch of criminals, nor did they all get along with each other. Matt Burts admitted that “He would like to see Downing’s neck broke.” Stiles made light of his treachery to the authorities who had trusted him saying “…the whole matter of the Cochise county jail delivery was gone over.” The Stiles Alvord gang would long be remembered less for their crimes, and more for the treachery of Billy Stiles, who betrayed his outlaw comrades by first testifying against them, gaining the trust of Deputy Sheriff Bravin, and then shooting him in favor of their escape. Jeff Milton would remain a lawman, later bringing to justice the perpetrator of a bank robbery in Tombstone.
The above information is in part excerpted from On the Road to Tombstone, by John D. Rose, published in 2012. This is the first book devoted in great detail to not only the Fairbank Train Robbery, but also the town of Fairbank, Contention City, and legendary Drew’s Station. For more on this story and other research breakthroughs, this book is available at https://www.createspace.com/3952635 as well as Amazon.com.
Copyright John D. Rose, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018. All rights reserved.