Stagecoach Hold-ups

This was first posted back in 2011, not long after Family Secret was published. Andi had a lot to say about her wretched brother-in-law Troy Swanson and his robbing of stagecoaches (when he wasn’t swindling folks). Since then, however, much has changed. Andi has recently been involved in a stagecoach holdup of her own. With that new development, this post has been completely updated.

See More Andi’s Journal Entries >>

July 1886, a few weeks after returning home from Yosemite

Now that I have been through a real, live stagecoach robbery, the words I scribbled down on a piece of composition paper after Kate returned home six years ago seem silly. And embarrassing. But I believe in being transparent, so I have faithfully copied my childish scrawl from that piece of paper into my current journal. When Riley read it, he laughed out loud and asked, “Did you get your wish, my princess? Was that stagecoach robbery as exciting as you had hoped?” I did not answer. Instead, I gave Riley a frown and reminded him of this verse in Corinthians. Below is my childish journal entry from age 12, after Kate returned.

“When I was a child, I spake as a child . . .” 1 Corinthians 13.

October 1880

I was not excited to learn that my new brother-in-law might be a stagecoach robber. When Kate announced that little bit of news at supper, my mouth fell open. Why would anybody want to rob a stagecoach? Well, mostly for the strong box, I think, and for the passengers’ valuables.

One place where stagecoaches get robbed (according to the Fresno Expositor newspaper, which Mitch likes to read out loud) is along the road up to the Yosemite Valley, up in the Sierras. Later on, Yosemite will become the first national Park in the U.S. But in 1880, Yosemite is wild and rugged. When that fella, John Muir, wrote about the beauty of those mountains, word got around. Then everybody wanted to visit it. They also wanted to see the giant sequoias (and so do I).

Twenty miles north of Fresno, in Madera, the Yosemite Stage and Turnpike Company offers trips to Yosemite for $45 round trip. That’s a heap of money, when you think that most folks earn only a dollar a day around here. Only rich folks can afford these trips. And it takes all day to get there. I’m not in a hurry to visit Yosemite, but Mother thinks we might take a look at it this next summer (we never got around to it, what with Mitch being shot up in the mountains and that long time of caring for him. I reckon by the time I got back, I was tired of the mountains). Anyway, the roads are dusty and dangerous, steep and narrow. And because the rich folks are on these stages, it hasn’t taken the road agents (that’s another word for outlaws) long to figure out they are easy pickin’s.

I’ve heard tell that these highwaymen (yet another word for outlaw) hold up the stage in the middle of nowhere. They steal watches, rings, money, and even buttons (I wonder if they take them all so ladies’ dresses don’t stay up. Wouldn’t Melinda yell about that!) They also demand the cash box the driver carries under his seat.

I would think these robberies would scare the tourists away (but they wouldn’t scare me. It sounds kind of exciting, actually). And guess what? Other folks feel the same way as I do. I read in the paper the other day that some visitors think it’s “romantic” to be held up by stagecoach robbers. While the men passengers are on the alert, prepared for the terrible possibility of getting robbed on the trip, the ladies think differently. They would like some extra excitement on their trip to the Yosemite Valley.

Boy oh boy! I can’t wait until I finally get a chance to take the stage up to the valley. The idea of an exciting encounter with a real, live road agent in the dark forests of a mountain trail would go a long way in getting me excited about a trip up to Yosemite. Being right there in the middle of a stagecoach robbery would be the most exciting thing ever. I would sure have a story to tell Cory and the rest of the kids when we went back to school!

June 1886

I was just a silly young girl back then. Now that I have experienced the very thing I wished for, I would take all my silly words back. Especially when I learned who the robber, Big T. actually was (no spoiler alert for the book, Yosemite at Last). I was so scared! I wondered if I would ever see Riley again. And on our bridal trip too! I couldn’t believe he and I had just heard a foolish couple talking about this very thing the morning we boarded the stage. It’s like . . . well, it’s like they were a couple of prophets right out of the Old Testament . . . the gloomy prophets.

One lady asked the waiter at breakfast, “Do you think they will rob us this trip?”

“Oh, no, madam,” came the waiter’s cheerful reply. “There is no danger at all.”

“Oh,” the lady said, downcast. “I do wish they would!”

As I bring this journal entry to a close, I am grateful God watched over Riley and me. And I plan to be very careful about what I “wish for” in the future. After all, I might just get it!