Clutching a suitcase in one hand and a satchel full of cash in the other on Oct. 15, 1878, Mifflin Kenedy caught the train for Dodge City where his son Spike was charged with the murder of a popular female entertainer.
As the owner of the Laureles Ranch near Corpus Christi, the Pennsylvania Quaker and former sea captain had money to burn and had already spent a chunk of his fortune buying Spike’s freedom. But the young hellraiser’s past escapades could not compare to the world of trouble he had gotten himself into in the Kansas cowtown.
In the looks department, 23-year-old James “Spike” Kenedy took after his mother, the attractive daughter of a former provincial governor of Spanish Texas. Like so many rich kids before and since, the apple of his wealthy daddy’s eye felt he was above the law and free to do as he pleased.
An incident in Ellsworth, Kan., six years earlier cemented that idea in Spike’s head. When an argument over a poker hand resulted in gunshot wounds for the Texas teenager and an adversary, Mifflin greased enough palms to make his legal problems disappear.
Hoping to keep the ne’er-do-well closer to home where he just might settle down, the frustrated father set him up with a cattle ranch in the Panhandle. Instead of taking the opportunity to grow up, Spike left the hard work of punching cows to the hired hands and made straight for Dodge City.
He arrived in the “Bibulous Babylon of the Frontier” about the same time as Dora Hand, a 34-year-old stage performer from back east who had relocated at the urging of her friend Fannie Garretson. An Old West historian outdid himself with this over-the-top description of Dora: “By all accounts, she was a beautiful creature, with a face and voice which gave men strange nostalgic dreams of better days and finer surroundings.”
Spike fell hard for the singer and mistook her flirtatious manner for genuine affection. Dog Kelley, the mayor and part-owner of the Alhambra Saloon where Dora sang five nights a week, took pleasure in bursting the lovesick puppy’s bubble. Humiliated by the revelation, Spike retaliated with his fists only to be beaten to a pulp.
When the bruised and battered prodigal son spurred his mount out of town, the mayor and everyone else in Dodge presumed he was going back to Texas to lick his wounds. But that was not the case, as a Wyatt Earp biographer later explained: “Jim Kennedy (sic) elected to kill Kelley in his sleep by shooting through the flimsy wall of the bedroom at the front of the mayor’s two-room shack” behind the Great Western Hotel.
In the predawn darkness of Oct. 4, 1878, Spike slipped unseen into Dodge, stopped his horse outside Kelley’s shack and fired two shots through the wall where he believed his tormentor was sleeping.
What he did not know at the time was that Dog Kelley had given his bed to Dora Hand for the night. One of the .44 caliber slugs pierced her side killing the woman instantly.
Even though there were no eyewitnesses to the “ride-by” shooting, the unanimous opinion was that Spike Kenedy had committed the despicable crime. Sheriff Bat Masterson and Assistant Marshal Wyatt Earp at first resisted public pressure to pursue the suspect, but at two o’clock that afternoon the future legends grudgingly gave chase with a large posse at their backs.
Despite the fugitive’s 10-hour head start, they caught up with him the following day. Spike tried to make a run for it, but Masterson used his .50 caliber rifle to knock him out of the saddle with a clean shot through the shoulder.
The first words out of Spike’s mouth amounted to an admission of guilt. “Did I kill him?” he asked Earp. Told he had taken Dora’s life instead of his intended target’s, the Texan turned on Masterson. “You ought to have made a better shot than you did!” “I did the best I could,” was Bat’s sarcastic response.
Mifflin Kenedy did not know the identity of the murder victim nor the circumstances of the crime until he met in private with Earp and Masterson. His sole concern was whether he had brought enough money.
Judging from the outcome, he had. A brief article in the Oct. 29, 1878, edition of a Dodge City newspaper reported the acquittal of James Kenedy. “His trial took place in the sheriff’s office, which was too small to admit spectators. We do not know what the evidence was or upon what grounds he was acquitted.”
Mifflin Kenedy outlived his three sons and one of two daughters. Spike died of natural causes in 1884 while awaiting trial for murder. His death came 12 years after his baby brother was laid to rest and four years before the lone surviving son was gunned down by a jealous husband.
The patriarch of the cattle clan went to his grave in 1895 with the knowledge there would be no one left to carry on the family name.
“Murder Most Texan” is a must read for fans of true crime and Texas history. Order your copy for $24.00 by mailing a check to Bartee Haile, P.O. Box 130011, Spring, TX 77393.
