The Brothers Who Robbed, Charmed, and Were Hanged: The Brief Outlaw Lives of John and Charles Ruggles

In the rugged hills of Northern California in the late 19th century, two brothers thought they had found an easy way to make a living. Stagecoach robberies were nothing new in the post-Gold Rush West, but John and Charles Ruggles’ short-lived outlaw career stood out—not for the scale of their crimes, but for the public’s strange fascination with their good looks, the dramatic fallout of their final heist, and the mob justice that ended their lives.

From Tulare County to the Sierra Nevada: A Tale of Two Brothers

John and Charles Ruggles came from a well-regarded family in Tulare County, California. While Charles was considered the more promising of the two—educated and college-bound—John was trouble from the start. Described as a sex addict and habitual criminal, John spent much of his youth entangled with the law and served time in prison for robbery while still a young man. He married, had a daughter, but tragedy struck when his wife died of illness. Rather than stay and raise his child, John left his daughter with relatives and retreated to the Sierra Nevada mountains to “live off the land.”

It was there that John fell in with a man known only as Arizona Pete, and the pair began robbing stagecoaches across California and Nevada. Charles, worried for his brother’s wellbeing, tracked him down in the mountains. Instead of saving him, Charles was persuaded to join the outlaw trail. John promised him an easier life—one rich in gold coins, danger, and notoriety.

This crowded four-horse stagecoach, waiting outside a building in Redding, looks ready to go. On May 14, 1892, the Ruggles boys held up a stage of the same line within 5 miles of that northern California town.

The Weaverville Stage Robbery: A Bloody Turn

The brothers’ first major heist together took place on 10 May 1892, targeting the Weaverville stage. The takings were underwhelming, and so they set their sights on a more lucrative target—a heavily laden coach travelling uphill just north of Redding, California. On 12 May 1892, they ambushed the Redding & Weaverville Stage on Middle Creek Road. The coach, driven by Johnny Boyce and carrying George Suhr as its only passenger, was guarded by Amos “Buck” Montgomery, who rode inside with the strongbox.

Charles stepped onto the road, masked and armed, demanding the strongbox be thrown down. Boyce complied. But as soon as the box hit the ground, Montgomery fired from inside the coach. The blast tore into Charles’ face and chest, dropping him. Despite his injuries, Charles returned fire, wounding both Boyce and Suhr.

Hidden nearby, John retaliated, hitting Montgomery—who would die of his wounds shortly after. The horses, startled by the gunfire, bolted with the damaged coach. Thinking his younger brother was dying, John whispered goodbye, grabbed the heavy strongbox, and fled into the trees.

A Fugitive and a Confession

The wounded Charles was found shortly after by a posse and taken to Redding jail. His injuries, while severe, were not fatal. During questioning by Wells Fargo detective John Thacker, Charles named his brother as the other bandit. A reward of $1,100 was quickly placed on John’s head.

John, meanwhile, had taken refuge with his aunt in Woodland, California. She was appalled by what he had done and turned him in. On 19 June 1892, a Yolo County deputy arrested John in a restaurant. He was then transported by train back to Redding, where he was shocked—but elated—to find Charles alive.

In custody, John tried to save both their lives. He claimed that Montgomery, the slain stage messenger, had been secretly in on the job. He also told authorities that he had hidden the strongbox in Middle Creek, cleverly attaching a floating device near the surface to mark its location. While the authorities later recovered some letters in an express pouch near Lower Springs, the $5,000 in gold coins was never found.

Women, Fame, and Local Fury

Despite the violent crime and public outrage, the Ruggles brothers quickly attracted a strange kind of admiration—especially from local women. A newspaper later described the public mood:

“The recent sentimental attitude of a number of women toward the prisoners as well as the line of defense adopted by their counsel, who has been evidently endeavoring to implicate Messenger Montgomery as a party to the crime, had been denounced by a number of persons in the county…”

While awaiting trial in Redding jail, the “handsome brothers” were fed and pampered. Women brought them flower bouquets, cakes, fruits, and even offers of marriage. According to legend, this sudden attention prompted jealousy among local men and resentment within the wider community. Many felt the brothers were enjoying their moment in the spotlight far too much, especially given Montgomery’s death.

Vigilante Justice: The Lynching of the Ruggles Brothers

With their trial scheduled for 28 July 1892, tensions in Redding were escalating. But justice wouldn’t wait.

On the night of 24 July, a mob of 40 to 75 masked men stormed the jail. The only jailer on duty, George Albro, was powerless to stop them. The mob blew open the safe containing the keys, dragged the brothers from their cells, and ignored John’s final plea:

“Spare Charley, and I will tell you [where the gold is],” he offered.

The vigilantes showed no mercy. They led the brothers to a derrick at the corner of Shasta Street, near the railroad tracks and blacksmith’s shop. There, John, aged 33, and Charles, just 22, were hanged.

Their bodies remained on public display for three days, a macabre sight for passing train passengers. The local press approved:

“It was a disagreeable job, but under the circumstances appeared to be necessary for the public good and is an example to the courts.”

Aftermath

No one was ever prosecuted for the lynching, and public sentiment remained largely in support of the mob. While their crime had been brutal, the Ruggles brothers’ charm and good looks earned them an unlikely place in California outlaw lore. Their tale sits at the intersection of media sensationalism, gendered public reactions, and the kind of extrajudicial violence that was still common in frontier justice.

The gold coins were never recovered, despite John’s confession and clues. Middle Creek, where the treasure was allegedly hidden, lies about six miles west of Redding, and stories of “Ruggles gold” have persisted in the region ever since.

The story of John and Charles Ruggles is one of misguided loyalty, opportunism, and the violent end that awaited many who sought fortune through crime in the Wild West. What makes their tale unique isn’t just the botched robbery or the lynching, but the public fascination—particularly from women—that surrounded them during their final weeks.

Their downfall was swift. Their fame, however brief, left behind a legacy steeped in both romanticism and grim reality—a reminder of how quickly the American dream could turn into a hanging on Shasta Street.

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