Arrow, also called Arrowhead, was a major railroad stop during the building of the Moffat Road railroad over Rollins Pass. Arrow burst into bloom in 1904 when the rails approached the site, and when the incorporation was recorded on Dec. 31, 1904, it became the first incorporated town in Grand County.
Arrow grew to be a large community with a hotel, graveyard several businesses and two electric streetlights. The town was lively with construction workers and lumbermen, and then saloons followed quickly. The saloons, however, had a major problem – they were in the National Forest, where it was illegal to sell liquor. This method of doing business was risky, so it was the saloon owners who promoted incorporation. During the winter 1905-06, the town grew – with the surrounding lumber camps approximately 2,000 people were counted – and other vices followed the growing population. “Sporting house” girls moved in across the tracks. The girls generally stayed on the other side of the tracks, but once on a dare, two of the girls walked out of a saloon absolutely naked.
50th anniversary celebration at the deserted site of Arrow
Most of the saloons were at the top of a steep hill, giving them an advantage when they threw out troublesome customers. Tossed far enough out the door, drunks would roll down the hill, landing in a mud pit and usually they would stay there overnight. One saloon, not at the top of the hill, created a “pigpen” in one corner of the saloon. The pigpen was filled with several feet of sawdust from the sawmills and most drunks thrown on top of the sawdust would sleep soundly there all night.
Sawmills required a large capital investment and often funds were short, too short to pay a crew. A local joke grew that some sawmills had three crews – the one that had just left unpaid; the one at work, who wouldn’t be paid; and the one being recruited in Denver for the next week. Neil Ragling was a sawmill operator some of the time and a gambling man a lot more of the time. Instead of paying his workers, he usually leveled a shotgun at them and they hurried away without their pay.
The other player in the murder at Arrow was “Indian” Tom Reynolds, half Indian and all ornery. His saving grace was his way with horses. He loved horses as much as he loved whiskey and usually made his living driving wagons or caring for the horses of a freighter.
Indian Tom’s skill with horses impressed Grand County Commissioner Bob Throckmorton when he and his bride were leaving on their honeymoon trip with Indian Tom driving his big white horse. The road down Little Chicago Creek was snowy and steep and when the going got too fast, Indian Tom would cry out “Haunch.” To the amazement of Bob and his bride, the horse just sat down – a very efficient braking system.
On a September day in 1906, Indian Tom was upset, mostly at Ragling because a “soiled dove” had stolen a $20 bill from Indian Tom. Ragling promoted business for this particular house; Indian Tom was an “advance agent” for a competing house. Why Tom visited the competing house, no one ever knew.
Everybody in town knew some girls of ill repute were being brought to Arrow and a dance was going to be held for them on the second floor of the Graham saloon that night. Indian Tom mounted his black and white pinto and rode right into the saloon, ducking his head to get through the double door, and shot a hole through the mirror of the back bar and several rounds into the ceiling, scaring the city girls from Denver half to death. Quickly, the oil lamps were shuttered and Indian Tom disappeared.
Tension ruled the streets of Arrow the next day – even drunks figured out that all hell would likely break loose. Sure enough, Indian Tom came to town, threatening everyone he saw. He headed toward Jack Graham’s saloon again because the restaurant in the back room was popular.
The town constable was summoned. Ragling happened to be the constable. Indian Tom challenged Ragling to go get his gun. Ragling did, but he knew Indian Tom was probably the best marksman in Arrow, and instead of returning to the Graham saloon, he went to the Elk saloon and waited. Dusk came, but no oil lamps were lit in the Elk. Mark Wolf, the bartender, lost no love for Indian Tom because Wolf was a competing agent in the soiled dove business, so he deliberately kept the saloon dark while Ragling waited just inside the open door, hidden in a corner of the room. The three customers at the bar began sobering up with the excitement.
A street in Arrowhead, which is about 1,000 feet above Middle Park
Indian Tom’s spurs could be heard jingling along the boardwalk. It was too dark to see that the door was already open; when Tom stretched out his hand for the knob, Ragling, only 3 feet away, fired. The shot went straight through Indian Tom’s heart; his body stood for a moment before it collapsed. The drunks stumbled over his body as they scrambled out. Indian Tom’s body was moved to a slab in the back room and Wolf had a profitable night as the entire town came, drank and talked. Tom was soon buried in Kremmling.
A Coroner’s Jury ruled the next day that Ragling was guilty of murder in the first degree, but Wolf had engaged his own Denver lawyer to defend Ragling and the lawyer succeeded in moving the trial to Georgetown. A jury there acquitted Ragling at the trial a year later.
Ragling didn’t change his ways, however. “Dago Frank” shot him through the stomach in Fraser a few years later, but Ragling survived. He continued to gamble and have trouble meeting his payrolls up until the Great Depression, when he pulled his shotgun payday scheme once too often. An unpaid employee beat him to the draw and sent Ragling where he probably met up with Indian Tom once more.
