When experts stumbled upon an old photograph of three friends from 1899, it seemed like just another relic of frontier history.

 

 

However, an intriguing detail hidden within the image would soon unravel a 125-year-old murder mystery that left even seasoned historians speechless.

Dr. John Thorne, a respected appraiser with 15 years of experience in authenticating western artifacts, had seen countless pieces of history.

But nothing could have prepared him for what he would discover in lot number 47 at the Legends of the West auction house.

The auction house had recently acquired the estate of a deceased Wyoming rancher, and among the dusty memorabilia was a single photograph.

This high-resolution scan depicted three rugged men posed outside a log cabin, each holding a rifle, their faces weathered by the harsh realities of frontier life.

On the back of the photo, faded ink read: “Hunters, Wyoming territory, 1899.”

At first glance, it appeared to be like many other frontier photographs, capturing the stoic demeanor of men in an unforgiving landscape.

But Dr. Thorne’s trained eye was drawn to details that others might overlook.

As he zoomed in to examine the rifle held by the man on the right, his breath caught in his throat.

 

 

Etched into the rifle’s stock was a striking silver wire inlay—a serpent eating its own tail, rendered with astonishing detail.

The craftsmanship was exceptional, indicative of custom work that would cost more than most men earned in a year.

However, it wasn’t the artistry that left Dr. Thorne trembling; it was the realization that he had seen this exact mark before.

It was the signature of US Marshal Everett Vance’s custom Winchester, a rifle reported stolen from his murdered body over a century ago.

Dr. Thorne immediately pulled every available record on Marshal Vance’s death, eager to connect the dots.

The official case file painted a grim picture of frontier justice gone awry.

On October 15th, 1899, Marshal Vance was ambushed while transporting a prisoner along a remote trail in Wyoming.

Both the marshal and his prisoner were found shot dead three days later by a passing cavalry patrol.

The crime scene suggested a professional ambush.

Vance’s horse was found nearby, unharmed but riderless.

His badge, wallet, and that distinctive custom rifle had all vanished.

Authorities quickly attributed the murders to the notorious Red Creek Gang, a group of outlaws terrorizing the region.

 

 

Despite extensive manhunts and substantial bounties, the gang seemingly vanished into the vast Wyoming wilderness.

The case officially went cold within six months, joining numerous other unsolved frontier murders in the territorial files.

Now, 125 years later, that missing rifle had apparently resurfaced in a photograph.

However, one question loomed large: if this was evidence of a crime, why would the perpetrators pose so casually for a formal portrait?

As Dr. Thorne studied the image, he noticed something he had initially missed—a small embossed logo in the bottom right corner.

It depicted a raven perched atop what appeared to be a camera lens, intricately detailed despite its tiny size.

Arthur Peton, the auction house’s semi-retired archivist, recognized the mark immediately.

“Albert the Raven Finch,” he said, his face lighting up.

Finch was a skilled frontier photographer known for his eccentric belief that photography captured souls, not just images.

Arthur explained that Finch meticulously documented every photograph he took.

He maintained logs detailing when each photo was taken, who was in it, and what he observed about their spiritual state.

“If this is one of Finch’s photographs,” Arthur continued, “then there’s a record of exactly who these men were and when this was taken.”

Finch’s logs were housed at the University of Wyoming, a treasure trove of frontier history.

After two days of searching through dusty volumes, Dr. Thorne finally found the entry that made his heart race.

“October 18th, 1899. Photograph commissioned by three friends at their workshop cabin, 15 miles northwest of Laram. Present: Silas, Jebidiah, and Caleb Cain.”

 

 

A quick genealogical search revealed a shocking connection: Caleb Cain was Marshal Everett Vance’s younger brother.

The revelation hit Dr. Thorne like a physical blow.

Marshal Vance’s real name had been Everett Vance Kaine, shortened for professional purposes.

Armed with this new information, Dr. Thorne dove into local newspaper archives.

What he found painted a picture of family discord that played out publicly in the weeks leading up to the marshal’s death.

The Laram Boomerang covered the story extensively, detailing a bitter dispute over a substantial ranch inheritance.

Everett wanted to sell the land for railroad investment, while Caleb aimed to keep and expand the cattle operation.

This dispute escalated into public shouting matches, with witnesses reporting threats and bitter recriminations.

Just five days before the marshal’s murder, the newspaper reported, “The Cain family dispute continues to divide our community.”

Marshall Vance had reportedly stated he would contest the inheritance in territorial court, while his brother vowed to protect the family legacy at any cost.

Suddenly, the photograph looked less like innocent hunters and more like a confession.

The timing was too perfect, and the family connection too damning.

Had Caleb and his friends killed Marshall Vance over a land dispute?

Determined to build a complete case, Dr. Thorne researched Caleb and his friends’ backgrounds.

He expected to find evidence of criminal activity or violent tendencies.

Instead, he discovered they were registered bounty hunters, exceptionally successful ones.

Over three years, they had captured over 30 wanted criminals, collecting nearly $15,000 in bounties.

Their reputation for tracking skills and marksmanship was well documented in law enforcement records.

However, a specific entry in the courthouse records shattered Dr. Thorne’s theory entirely.

On the day of Marshal Vance’s murder, the three friends had collected a $500 bounty for bringing in a cattle rustler.

Their alibi was ironclad; they were 300 miles away from the murder scene, witnessed by a dozen townspeople.

Dr. Thorne stared at the contradictory evidence spread across his desk.

The three friends had a clear motive to kill Caleb’s brother, yet they had the most solid alibi imaginable.

Frustrated but determined, he decided to map out the friends’ entire bounty hunting career.

From 1896 to 1899, they brought in wanted criminals every two to three weeks.

Yet, after the murder, their professional activity abruptly ceased for two full months.

They resumed their bounty hunting just three days after Albert Finch took their photograph.

The auction house postponed the sale while Dr. Thorne documented his findings.

 

 

His research revealed supporting evidence of Red Creek gang members found dead during the winter of 1899 to 1900.

Descriptions matched the three friends seen in various frontier towns during their supposed hiatus.

The auction catalog was completely rewritten.

Instead of selling a mysterious frontier photograph, they were now offering a piece of American justice.

The lot, including the rifle, photograph, and Dr. Thorne’s complete research documentation, sold for $847,000 to the Museum of Western Justice in Tombstone, Arizona.

In the end, a dusty photo of three friends from 1899 did more than identify a rifle.

It revealed how family bonds can survive even the worst feuds.

What hidden stories of loyalty and justice might be waiting in your own family’s old photographs?

If you love uncovering forgotten histories like this one, make sure to subscribe for more incredible stories.