The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger,

by Albert Bigelow Paine

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Title: Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger

A Story of Frontier Reform

Author: Albert Bigelow Paine

Release Date: November 30, 2021 [eBook #66849]

Language: English

Produced by: Graeme Mackreth and The Online Distributed Proofreading

Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from

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1
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN BILL MC-
DONALD, TEXAS

RANGER ***

[Illustration: _W.J. McDonald_]

CAPTAIN BILL McDONALD

TEXAS RANGER

_A Story of Frontier Reform_

BY

ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE

Author of "Th: Nast--His Period and

His Pictures," etc., etc.

With Introductory Letter by Theodore Roosevelt

2
"No man in the wrong can stand up

against a fellow that's in the right

and keeps on a-comin'."

Bill McDonald's Creed.

SPECIAL SUBSCRIPTION EDITION

Made by J.J. Little & Ives Co.

New York, 1909

Copyright, 1909, by

WILLIAM J. McDONALD

To

EDWARD M. HOUSE

3
WITHOUT WHOSE ENDURING

FRIENDSHIP, WISE COUNSEL

AND ACTIVE INTEREST THIS

BOOK WOULD NEVER HAVE

BEEN WRITTEN

CONTENTS

Page

Foreword: A letter from Theodore Roosevelt 11

I.--Introducing "Captain Bill" 13

II.--An Old-Time Mississippi Childhood

The kind of education for a young Ranger. Presence of

4
mind early manifested 16

III.--Emigration and Adventure

A boy at the head of a household. Meeting the "Devil

and his wife." An early reform 21

IV.--The Making of a Texan

Reconstruction and "treason." "Dave" Culberson to the

rescue. Education, marriage and politics 26

V.--The Beginning of Reform

Subduing a bad man. First official appointment. A

deputy who did things. "Bill" McDonald and "Jim" Hogg 33

VI.--Into the Wilderness

A New Business in a New Land. A "Sand-lapper" shows

5
his "sand" 43

VII.--Commercial Ventures and Adventures

Bill McDonald's method of collecting a bill; and his method

of handling bad men 48

VIII.--Reforming the Wilderness

The kind of men to be reformed. Early reforms in Quanah.

Bad men meet their match 55

IX.--Getting Even with the Brooken Gang

The Brooken Gang don't wait for callers. One hundred

and twenty-seven years' sentence for an outlaw 65

X.--New Tactics in No-Man's Land

A man with a buck-board. Holding up a bad gang single-handed 69

6
XI.--Redeeming No-Man's Land

Bill McDonald and Lon Burson gather in the bad men.

"No man in the wrong can stand up against a fellow that's

in the right and keeps on a-comin'" 78

XII.--Some of the Difficulties of Reform

"Frontier" law and practice. Caught in a Norther in

No-Man's Land 87

XIII.--Captain Bill as a Tree-Man

The lost drove of Lazarus. A pilgrim on a "paint-hoss."

A new way of getting information in the "Strip" 95

XIV.--The Day for "Deliveries"

The tree-man turns officer, and single-handed wipes out a

7
bad gang 106

XV.--Cleaning Up the Strip

Deputy Bill gets "stood off," but makes good. Bill Cook

and "Skeeter," "A hell of a court to plead guilty in!" 115

XVI.--Texas Ranger Service and Its Origin

The massacre of Fort Parker; Cynthia Ann Parker's capture.

Rangers and what they are for. Their characteristics

and their requirements 126

XVII.--Captain of Company B, Ranger Force

Capture of Dan and Bob Campbell. Recommendations for

a Ranger Captain. Governor "Jim" Hogg appoints his old

friend on the strength of them 136

XVIII.--An Exciting Indian Campaign

8
First service as Ranger Captain. Biggest Indian scare on

record 145

XIX.--A Bit of Farming and Politics

Captain Bill and his goats. The "car-shed" convention 149

XX.--Taming the Pan-handle

The difference between cowboys and "bad men." How

Captain Bill made cow-stealing unpopular 154

XXI.--The Battle with Matthews

What happened to a man who had decided to kill Bill

McDonald 165

XXII.--What Happened to Beckham

9
An outlaw raid and a Ranger battle. Joe Beckham ends

his career 176

XXIII.--A Medal for Speed

Captain Bill outruns a criminal and wins a gold medal 179

XXIV.--Captain Bill in Mexico

Mexican thieves try to hold up Captain Bill and get a surprise.

Mexican police make the same attempt with the

same result. President Diaz tries to enlist him 182

XXV.--A New Style in the Pan-handle

Charles A. Culberson pays a tribute to Ranger marksmanship.

Captain Bill in a "plug" hat 189

XXVI.--Preventing a Prize-Fight

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The Fitzsimmons-Maher fight that didn't come off at El

Paso, and why. Captain Bill "takes up" for a Chinaman 194

XXVII.--The Wichita Falls Bank Robbery and Murder

Kid Lewis and his gang take advantage of the absence of

the Rangers. They make a bad calculation and come

to grief. Good examples of Bill McDonald's single-handed

work, and nerve 199

XXVIII.--Captain Bill as a Peace-maker

He attends certain strikes and riots alone with satisfactory

results. Goes to Thurber and disperses a mob 214

XXIX.--The Buzzard's Water-Hole Gang

The Murder Society of San Saba and what happened to it

after the Rangers arrived 221

11
XXX.--Quieting a Texas Feud

The Reece-Townsend trouble, and how the factions were

once dismissed by Captain Bill McDonald 243

XXXI.--The Trans-Cedar Mystery

The lynching of the Humphreys and what happened to the

lynchers 250

XXXII.--Other Mobs and Riots

Rangers at Orange and at Port Arthur. Five against four

hundred 260

XXXIII.--Other Work in East Texas

Districts which even a Ranger finds hopeless. The Touchstone

murder. The confession of Ab Angle 265

12
XXXIV.--A Wolf-Hunt with the President

Captain Bill sees the President through Texas and accompanies

him on the "best time of his life." Quanah Parker

tells stories to the hunters 273

XXXV.--The Conditt Murder Mystery

A terrible crime at Edna, Texas. Monk Gibson's arrest

and escape. The greatest man-hunt in history. 290

XXXVI.--The Death of Rhoda McDonald

The end of a noble woman's life. Her letter of good-by 304

XXXVII.--The Conditt Mystery Solved

Captain Bill as a "sleuth." The tell-tale handprint. A

Ranger captain's theories established 308

13
XXXVIII.--The Brownsville Episode: An Event of National

Importance

The Twenty-fifth Infantry's midnight raid 315

XXXIX.--Captain Bill on the Scene

The situation at Brownsville. Rangers McDonald and

McCauley defy the U.S. army. Captain Bill holds a

court of inquiry 323

XL.--What Finally Happened at Brownsville

How State officials failed to support the men who quieted

disorder and located crime 341

XLI.--The Battle on the Rio Grande

Assassination of Judge Stanley Welch. A Rio Grande

election. Captain Bill ordered to the scene. An ambush;

a surprise, and an inquest. Captain Bill's last battle. 357

14
XLII.--The End of Rangering and a New Appointment

State Revenue Agent of Texas. The "Full Rendition"

Bill enforced. A great battle for Tax Reform, and a bloodless

triumph 373

XLIII.--Conclusion

Captain Bill McDonald of Texas--what he has been and

what he is to-day 388

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Page

Portrait of Capt. Bill McDonald _Frontispiece_

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Facsimile of Letter from Theodore Roosevelt 11

Introducing Reform in the Wilderness 46

Beginning a Campaign in No-man's Land 75

The Capture of Dan and Bob Campbell 138

The Battle with Matthews at Quanah 173

Quelling a Lynching Mob at Wichita Falls 211

In Camp with Theodore Roosevelt 283

Captain Bill's Last Battle 367

[Illustration: THEODORE ROOSEVELT'S LETTER TO CAPTAIN McDONALD

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON

December 19, 1908.

My dear Captain:

16
I am glad you are to publish your memorials. I shall always look back

with pleasure to our wolf hunt in Oklahoma. Yours has been a most

interesting life. You are one of the few men now living who served

in that warfare against crime and on behalf of order, which has well

nigh passed away with the old frontier conditions which called it

into being. For a number of years you were deputy sheriff, or deputy

marshal, or representative of the cattle men's association employed by

them to put a stop to cattle stealing and robbery under arms, and you

served for twenty years in that unique body, the Texas Rangers. It is a

career which henceforth it will be difficult to parallel.

With all good wishes, believe me,

Sincerely yours,

Theodore Roosevelt

Captain W.J. McDonald,

New Amsterdam Hotel,

New York, N.Y.]

17
FOREWORD

_A Letter from Theodore Roosevelt to Captain McDonald_

The White House,

Washington.

December 19, 1908.

MY DEAR CAPTAIN: I am glad you are to publish your memorials. I shall

always look back with pleasure to our wolf-hunt in Oklahoma. Yours has

been a most interesting life. You are one of the few men now living who

served in that warfare against crime and on behalf of order, which has

well-nigh passed away with the old frontier conditions which called it

into being. For a number of years you were deputy sheriff, or deputy

marshal, or representative of the cattlemen's associations, employed by

them to put a stop to cattle stealing and robbery under arms, and you

served for twenty years in that unique body, the Texas Rangers. It is a

career which henceforth it will be difficult to parallel.

With all good wishes, believe me,

18
Sincerely yours,

THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

CAPTAIN BILL McDONALD, TEXAS RANGER

Introducing "Captain Bill"

Captain Bill McDonald is a name that in Texas and the districts lying

adjacent thereto makes the pulse of a good citizen, and the feet of an

outlaw, move quicker. Its owner is a man of fifty-six, drawn out long

and lean like a buckskin thong, with the endurance and constitution of

the same.

In repose, Captain Bill is mild of manner; his speech is a gentle

19
vernacular, his eyes are like the summer sky. I have never seen him in

action, but I am told that then his voice becomes sharp and imperative,

that his eyes turn into points of gray which pierce the offender

through.

Two other features bespeak this man's character and career: his ears

and his nose--the former, alert and extended--the ears of the wild

creature, the hunter; the latter of that stately Roman architecture

which goes with conquest, because it signifies courage, resolution and

the peerless gift of command.

His nerves are of that quiet and steady sort which belong to a

tombstone and he does not disturb them with tobacco or stimulants of

any kind--not even with tea and coffee. In explanation, he once said:

"Well, you see, sometimes I have to be about two-fifths of a second

quicker than the other fellow, and a little quiver, then, might be

fatal."

Incidentally, it may be added that Captain Bill--they love to call him

that in Texas--is ranked as the best all-round rapid-fire marksman in

the State, and for the "other fellow" to begin shooting is believed to

be equivalent to suicide. Add to these various attributes a heart in

which tenderness, strict honesty and an overwhelming regard for duty

20
prevail, and you have in full, Captain William Jesse McDonald, formerly

Deputy Sheriff, Deputy U.S. Marshal and Ranger Captain, now State

Revenue Agent of Texas.

It is the story of this man that we shall undertake to tell. During

his twenty-five years or more of service in the field, he reduced

those once lawless districts known as the Pan-handle, No-man's Land,

and, incidentally, Texas at large to a condition of such proper

behavior that nowhere in this country is life and property safer than

in the very localities where only a few years ago the cow-thief and

the train-robber reigned supreme. Their species have become scarce

and "hard to catch" there now, and the skittish officials who used

to shield them have been trained to "stand hitched." The story of a

reform like that is worth the telling, for it is the unwritten history

of a territory so vast that if moved to the Atlantic seaboard it

would extend from New York to Chicago, from Lake Erie to the Gulf of

Mexico--its area equal to that of France and England combined, with

Wales, Belgium, the Netherlands and Switzerland thrown in, for good

measure. Furthermore, it is the story of a man who, in making that

history, faced death almost daily, often under those supreme conditions

when the slightest hesitancy--the twitch of a muscle or the bat of an

eyelid--a "little quiver," as he put it--would have been fatal; it is

the story of a man who time and again charged into the last retreat

of armed and desperate murderers and brought them out hand-cuffed,

21
the living ones, of course; it is the story of a man who, according

to Major Blocksom, in his report of the Brownsville troubles in 1906,

would "Charge hell with a bucket of water." In a word, it is the story

of a man who has done things, who is still doing them, and whose kind

is passing away forever.

II

An Old Time Mississippi Childhood

THE KIND OF AN EDUCATION FOR A YOUNG RANGER. PRESENCE OF

MIND EARLY

MANIFESTED

In those days when the Mississippi planter was only something less

than a feudal baron, with slaves and wide domain and vested rights;

with horses, hounds and the long chase after fox and good red deer;

with horn and flagon and high home wassail in the hall--in those days

was born William Jesse McDonald, September 28th, 1852. His father,

Enoch McDonald, was the planter of the feudal type--fearless, fond of

22
the chase, the owner of wide acres and half a hundred slaves--while

his grandfather, of the clan McDonald on its native heath, was a step

nearer in the backward line to some old laird who led his men in

roistering hunt or bloody fray amid the green hills and in dim glens of

Scotland.

That was good blood, and from his mother, who was a Durham--Eunice

Durham--the little chap that was one day to be a leader on his own

account, inherited as a clear a strain. The feudal hall in Mississippi,

however, was a big old plantation house, built of hewn logs and riven

boards, with woods and cotton-fields on every hand; with cabins for the

slaves and outbuildings of every sort. That was in Kemper County, over

near the Alabama line, with DeKalb, the county-seat, about twenty miles

away.

It was a peculiar childhood that little "Bill Jess" McDonald had. It

was full of such things as the home-coming of the hunters with a deer

or a fox--sometimes (and these were grand occasions) even with a bear.

Then there were wonderful ball-games played by the Bogue Chita and

Mucklilutia Indians; exciting shooting-matches and horse races; long

fishing and swimming days with companions black and white, and the ever

recurring chase, with the blood-hounds, of some runaway slave. There

was not much book-schooling in a semi-barbaric childhood such as that.

There was a school-house, of course, which was used for a church and

23
gatherings of any sort, and sometimes the children had lessons there.

But the Kemper County teaching of that day was mainly to ride well,

to shoot at sight, and to act quickly in the face of danger. That was

the proper education for the boy who was one day to make the Texas

Pan-handle and No-man's land his hunting ground, with men for his

quarry.

Presence of mind he had as a gift, and it was early manifested. There

was a lake not far away where fishing and swimming went on almost

continuously during the summer days, and sometimes the small swimmers

would muddy the water near the shore and then catch the fish in their

hands. They were doing this one day when Bill Jess was heard to

announce excitedly:

"I've got him, boys! I've got him! You can't beat mine!" at the same

instant swinging his catch high for them to see.

That was a correct statement. They couldn't beat his catch and

they didn't want to. What they wanted to do was to get out of his

neighborhood without any unnecessary delay, for the thing he held up

to view was an immense deadly moccasin, grasped with both hands by

the neck, the rest of it curling instantly around the lower arm. His

hold was so tight and so near its head that the snake could not bite

him, but the problem was to turn it loose. His friends were all ashore

24
and at a safe distance. He did not lose his head, however, but wading

ashore himself he invited them one after another to unwind that snake.

Nobody cared for the job and he told them in turn and collectively what

he thought of them. Then he offered the honor to a little slave boy on

attractive terms.

"Alec," he said, "ef you-all don't come an' unwind this heah snake,

I'll beat you-all to death an' cut off yo' ears an' skin you alive and

give yo' carcass to the buzzards."

Those were the days when a little slave-boy could not resist an earnest

entreaty of that sort from the son of the household, and Jim came

forward, his face gray with gratitude, and taking hold gingerly he

unwound a yard or so of water-moccasin from Bill Jess, who, with the

last coil, flung his prize to the ground, where it was quickly killed,

it being well-nigh choked to death already.

But even the great gift of presence of mind will sometimes balk at

unfamiliar dangers. It was about this time that the Civil War broke

out, and Enoch McDonald enlisted a company to defend the Southern

cause. The little boy left behind was heart-broken. His father was his

hero, and when by and by the news came that the soldiers were encamped

at Meridian--a railway station about fifty miles distant--the lad made

up his mind to join them. He set out alone afoot and being used to

25
finding his way in unfamiliar places he made the journey with no great

difficulty, eating and sleeping where opportunity afforded. He arrived

at Meridian one morning, and began to look over the ground and to make

a few inquiries as to his father's headquarters. There was a busy

place, where a lot of supplies were being unloaded from what appeared

to be little houses on wheels. They were freight cars, but Bill Jess

didn't know it. He had never seen a railroad before, and he followed

along the track with increasing interest till he reached the engine,

which he thought must be the most wonderful and beautiful thing ever

created. Then suddenly it let off steam, the bell rang and the air

was split by a screaming whistle. It was too sudden and too strange

for his gift to work. The son of all the McDonald's and of a gallant

soldier set out for the horizon, never pausing until halted by the

sentry of his father's camp.

He was permitted to enter, and was directed to the drill ground, where

his father, who had been promoted for bravery to the rank of Major,

was superintending certain maneuvers. The little boy in his eagerness

ran directly into the midst of things, and Major McDonald, suddenly

seeing him, was startled into the conclusion that some dire calamity

had befallen his family and only Bill Jess had escaped to tell the

tale. Half sliding, half falling he dropped from his horse to learn the

truth. Then gratefully he lifted the lad up behind him and continued

the drill. Eunice McDonald was only a day or two behind Bill Jess, for

26
her instinct told her where the boy had gone. They remained a few days

in camp and then bade their soldier good-bye. They never saw him again,

for he was killed at the battle of Corinth, October 3d, 1862, charging

a breastworks at the head of his regiment, his face to the enemy, as a

soldier should die.[1] The boy, Bill Jess, ten years old, went after

his father's effects, which included two horses, both wounded. These

he brought home, but his soldier father had been buried on the field,

where he fell.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Col. Rogers of Texas was killed in the same charge; Major

McDonald and Col. Rogers fell side by side, within a few feet of the

works.]

III

Emigration and Adventure

A BOY AT THE HEAD OF A HOUSEHOLD. MEETING "THE DEVIL AND HIS

WIFE." AN

27
EARLY REFORM

The boy of ten was now the head of the household. He had his mother and

sister, and most of the negroes still remained; but he was the "man

of the house" and was mature before his time. Except in the matter of

strength, he was a man's equal--he could do whatever a man could do.

Already he was a crack shot, and at the age of twelve he hunted deer,

and killed them, alone. Long before, even during his father's first

absence, he had followed runaway slaves with the blood-hounds and

without other assistance had captured them and marched them back to the

plantation. It was not a child's work, and we may not approve of it

to-day, but we must confess that it constituted a special training for

the part he was to play in after years.

The war ended at last, and with it the McDonald fortune. Slaves and

cotton were gone. Only a remnant of land, then worthless, remained.

Eunice McDonald, widowed, with two children--her home left desolate by

the ravages of war--knew not which way to turn. A bachelor brother with

his face set Texasward offered to make a home for her in the new land.

She accepted the offer, and in 1866 they reached east Texas and settled

in Rusk County, near Henderson, the county-seat. Here the brother and

sister made an effort to retrieve their broken fortunes, with moderate

success. All the family worked hard, and young McDonald, now in his

28
fifteenth year and really a man in achievements, did a man's part on

the farm, attending school a portion of the year. His uncle permitted

him to earn some money for himself by cutting wood and hauling it to

the village, and a part of this money he laid away. Such leisure as

he had, he spent in following the hounds, and presently, even as a

boy, became famous for his marksmanship. Coon hunting was perhaps his

favorite diversion, and frequently with his dogs he threaded the dark

woods all night, alone.

But he had not as yet achieved that perfect fearlessness which

distinguished him in later years, and there is still another instance

recorded where his presence of mind failed to work. This latter is a

curious circumstance, indeed, and should be investigated, perhaps, by

the Society of Psychical Research.

He had been out on one of his long night tramps and was very tired next

evening when his work was done. Coming in, he threw himself down on a

lounge in the hallway and was soon sound asleep. By and by his mother

came along and wakened him.

"It's bed-time, Bill Jess," she said.

He got up, walked out toward the gate, and she supposed he was awake.

When he really awoke, he was a mile from there, leaning on the gate of

29
one Jasper Smith, the father of two young ladies whom Bill Jess was in

the habit of visiting. Realizing where he was, and what might happen to

him if discovered just there, he set out for home down the wide public

road, when suddenly a little way ahead he saw two objects perched on

the top of the rail fence. At first he thought they were two men, and

was not disturbed; then all at once they had left the top of that fence

and in the wink of an eye, lit in the road directly in front of him.

"It was the devil and his wife," McDonald declared. "They had horns and

tails, exactly like all the pictures of the devil I ever saw. Of course

it might have been the devil and his brother; anyway they belonged to

that family. I got by those things. I didn't debate a minute, but went

home as fast as my legs could carry me, emptying my pockets as I ran,

which I had always heard the darkeys say would keep off witches. There

was a short way home by the graveyard, but I didn't take it. I kept

to the big road, and when I did get home, I didn't wait to go around

to the door, but went right in the open window where my mother was.

She said that I had imagined everything, but I hadn't. There was no

imagination about it."

Curiously enough, soon after this happened a little flock of

school-children passing near the same rail fence in daylight, saw

something that scared them so badly that some of them fainted. But by

this time Bill Jess had gathered himself, and taking his gun he loaded

30
it heavily and went devil hunting. However, without success.

In spite of this slight lapse, young McDonald probably considered

himself a man, now. We have seen that he was already calling on the

young ladies, and in the locality where he lived an ability to drink

whiskey was regarded as another manly achievement. There was a small

still-house located not far from his home, and he got into the habit

of visiting it and of tasting the output. One day he tasted too much

and did not return either in good season or condition. When his mother

prepared to administer punishment, he pulled away from her and stated

that he would not take a whipping. But Eunice McDonald was not one

to condone such rebellion. She put away the rod and bided her time.

One night when Bill Jess was fast asleep she wrapped and pinned

him securely in a sheet and laid on such a thrashing as gave him a

permanent distaste both for liquor and disobedience.

At another time it was attentions paid to a young lady that got him

into difficulties. The young lady was the sister of his school teacher,

and the latter did not approve of anything resembling attachment

between the two. One day the young wooer wrote a letter in school,

and passing it down the line it unluckily fell under the eye of the

teacher, who captured and read it, forthwith.

"I'll settle with you at recess, sir," he said, nailing Bill Jess to

31
the seat with his eye.

Bill Jess didn't care to have him settle. He was willing to let the

account run right along, and to knock off the interest. He decided not

to wait. The teacher had his back to the board, working out something

hard, when Bill Jess went away. He didn't rush wildly. He didn't even

run--not exactly--but he lost no time, tip-toeing out of there. Neither

did he go home. He'd gone home once in disgrace, and he remembered what

had happened. Eunice McDonald's combination of sheet and horse-whip

offered no fresh inducements in that direction. He walked twenty miles

to a saw-mill and got a job. Then, by and by, everything blew over;

everybody was sorry, and he returned home to forgiveness and safety. A

cyclone hit the school-house for some reason or other about this time

and demolished it, Bill Jess being raked out of the debris undamaged in

any particular. Perhaps this was vindication.

IV

The Making of a Texan

32
RECONSTRUCTION AND "TREASON." "DAVE" CULBERSON TO THE RES-
CUE.

EDUCATION, MARRIAGE AND POLITICS

But though still a boy in years, being not more than sixteen, his

youth really came to an end now. It was the period of Reconstruction

in the South--a time of obnoxious enforcements on the one hand, and

rebellious bitterness on the other, with general lawlessness in the

back settlements. The military dominated the towns and there were

continuous misunderstandings between the still resentful conquered and

the aggressive and sometimes insolent conquerors. Young McDonald, with

the memory of his hero father, shot dead while leading his regiment

against these men in blue, was in no frame of mind to submit to any

indignity, real or fancied, at their hands. It happened just at this

time that one Colonel Greene, a relative of the McDonalds, was murdered

by negroes, who, being arrested, confessed the killing, stating that

they had mistaken Greene for a mule-buyer supposed to have a large

sum of money. The men were lodged in jail, but it was believed that

under the "carpet-bag" military law then prevailing they would escape

punishment. In later years, young McDonald was to become one of the

most strenuous defenders of official procedure--one of the bitterest

opponents of lynch-law the State of Texas has ever known; but he was

hot-blooded in 'sixty-eight, and the situation was not one to develop

33
moral principles. When, therefore, a mob formed and took the negroes

out of jail and hanged them, there is no record of Bill Jesse having

distinguished himself in their defense as he certainly would have done

in later years. Indeed, it is likely that if he did not help pull a

rope that night it was only because the rope was fully occupied with

other willing hands.

Of course the military descended on Henderson and set in to discipline

it for this concerted lawlessness. The townspeople as a whole, and the

relatives of Colonel Greene in particular, resented this occupation.

Charley Greene, a brother of the murdered man, in company with Bill

Jess, presently got into trouble with some soldiers who were deporting

themselves in a manner considered offensive, and the result was a

running fight with the military in the lead. The soldiers made for

their quarters in the court-house. It would have been proper to

leave them alone, then--to retire flushed with victory, as the books

say, and satisfied. But Greene could not rest. He persuaded Bill

Jess to stay with him, and they rode up and down in front of the

court-house, occasionally taking a shot at the windows, to punctuate

their challenge to warfare. Finally Greene decided that they could

charge the court-house and capture it. He primed himself with liquor

for the onset, and refused to heed his companion's advice to abandon

the campaign. The two ascended the court-house stairs, at last, with

pistols cocked. Greene had one in each hand and, with them, shoved open

34
the double doors at the head of the stairs. That was another mistake.

The soldiers were "laying for him" just inside, and in an instant

later his arms were pinioned, and he was a prisoner. The doors swung

to, then, and Bill Jess stood outside, wondering whether he ought to

charge to the rescue, wait there and be captured, or retire in good

order. With that gift of logic and rare presence of mind which would

one day make him famous, he decided to get out of there. He had a plan

for organizing a rescue party, and did in fact get a crowd together,

but in the meantime, under cover of rain and darkness, the soldiers

had taken their prisoner from Henderson and he was well on the way to

Jefferson, where there was a stockade. No attempt was made at the time

to arrest young McDonald, though soldiers frequently loitered about his

home premises, and with these he had many collisions, usually coming

off victorious. He was strong, wiry and fearless, and he had then, as

always, that piercing eye and a manner of going straight at things

without flutter or hesitation.

Still, he was laying up trouble for himself, for Greene's

court-martial was coming off, and Bill Jess, who went over to see if

he could be of any assistance, was promptly arrested while nosing

about the stockade, and landed with his relative on the inside. This

was a serious matter. The boy realized that it was, as soon as the

gates closed behind him. He realized it still more forcibly when a few

days later he and Greene were led into the court-house for military

35
trial, and he took a look at the men who were to prosecute him for

aiding in the crime of treason. Nor was he reassured when one of the

lawyers present announced that he would "defend that boy's case."

For there was nothing inspiring about this champion's appearance.

Nothing about him except his generosity seemed worth while. He wore

ill-fitting home-spun clothes, smoked a common clay pipe and his long

hair straggled down over his forehead. His shirt collar was carelessly

unbuttoned, and his trousers, too short for him, revealed common

home-knit yarn socks. Moreover, his eyes were half-closed and he had

a general air of sleepy indifference which did not disappear until it

came his turn to take part in the proceedings. Then suddenly the sleepy

eyes became alive, the shaggy hair was tossed back, the clay pipe was

laid on the table, and Dave Culberson, afterward known as an eminent

lawyer and statesman, arose and made such a plea in behalf of the boy

whose father had died at Corinth, and whose mother and sister relied

on him to-day for protection, that only one verdict remained in the

minds of his hearers when he closed. Bill Jess was acquitted, but his

relative, Charley Greene, was less fortunate. He remained in a Northern

prison several years before he was finally released. Dave Culberson

afterward represented his district in Congress, and the boy he defended

eventually served the son, Charles A. Culberson--then Governor--now, in

1909, United States Senator from Texas.

It is likely that this bit of experience with hot-headed lawlessness,

36
and the result thereof, proved of immense value to young McDonald. From

that time forward we find him a peace-maker, a queller of disturbances,

a separator of combatants, even at great personal risk. He had never

been a seeker after trouble and he seemed now to develop a natural

talent for preserving the peace. Wherever guns are drawn, and they were

drawn pretty frequently and upon small provocation in that day and

locality, he stepped in without hesitation and the would-be slayers

were disarmed by what seemed a veritable sleight-of-hand. In 1871, when

he was nineteen years old, he decided to follow a commercial life,

and with the money saved from the sale of the wood he had cut and

hauled, he took a course in Soule's Commercial College, at New Orleans,

graduating in 1872. Penmanship came easy to him, and upon his return

to Henderson he taught a writing class. Within the year he was able

to establish a small store in connection with the ferry at Brown's

Bluff on the Sabine River, between Henderson and Longview. Here, with

his ferry assistant he kept bachelor's hall, not the most congenial

existence, perhaps, for one with his natural leaning toward female

society. At all events, he gave it up, by and by, and after a brief

sojourn in Longview established himself in Wood County, at Mineola,

then a newly established and busy railway terminus. This was in 1875,

and his venture was a success. Soon he was considered the leading

grocer of the town.

It was during this period that McDonald made the acquaintance of

37
James S. Hogg, who in later life, as Governor of Texas, was to confer

his most useful official appointment--that of Ranger Captain, thus

enabling him to do much of the work which has identified his name

with the State's constructive history. Hogg, then a young man, was

Justice of the Peace at the county-seat, Quitman, a few miles distant

from Mineola, and was also conducting a paper there. He bought his

groceries of McDonald, and the account ran along in a go-as-you-please

sort of a way. They were good friends, and courted together, and it

was through Hogg that young McDonald met Miss Rhoda Isabel Carter,

a young woman with fine nerve and force of character--just the girl

for a Texas regulator's wife. And such, in due season, she was to

become, for he married her in January, 1876. His friendship for Hogg

continued for some time after that, but came to a sudden end, one day,

when Hogg, who had been elected County Attorney, with characteristic

conscientiousness prosecuted McDonald and others for carrying concealed

weapons--McDonald's possession of such a weapon having been revealed

through his aiding in the capture of a gang of boisterous disturbers of

the peace. McDonald rose and defended his own case, declaring he had

quit business to do his duty as a good citizen, and that he would stay

in jail the balance of his days before he would pay a fine.

With his usual frank fearlessness he said some hard things to Hogg

in the presence of the court, and though discharged, the two were

estranged for a considerable period. Then a truce was patched up,

38
but only for a time. Both were sharply interested in politics and

on opposing sides in the congressional convention. They were near

coming to blows over their differences, and were only separated by the

intervention of friends. It is not pleasant to record this of these two

worthy men, but after all they were only human beings, and young, and

then the sequel makes it still further worth while.

The Beginning of Reform

SUBDUING A BAD MAN. FIRST OFFICIAL APPOINTMENT. A DEPUTY

WHO DID

THINGS. "BILL" MCDONALD AND "JIM" HOGG

But now came Bill McDonald's first official appointment and service.

Living just outside of Mineola was a man named Golden, alias George

Gordon, of hard character, and the owner of several bulldogs, similarly

endowed. Man and dogs became a menace to travel in that neighborhood,

as they lived near a public road and were allowed at large. The man was

39
particularly quarrelsome and ugly and was said to have killed several

more or less inoffensive persons. He always carried arms--the customary

pistol, and a bowie knife--the latter worn in a scabbard "down his

back." He was an expert at throwing this weapon, and altogether a

terror to the community. Bill McDonald would naturally resent the

domination of a man like Gordon, and when one day the latter came to

town with one of his unruly bulldogs, and the dog set upon and injured

McDonald's prized pointer, there was trouble, active and immediate.

McDonald's reputation as a good man to let alone was already

established at Mineola. He was known as a capable marksman--fearless,

resolute and very sudden. When, therefore, he produced a six-shooter

for the avowed purpose of killing the bulldog, its master, who,

like every bully by trade, was a coward at heart, interceded humbly

for the dog's life, promising to take the animal home and leave him

there. McDonald agreed to the arrangement, but for the benefit of the

community at large he promptly applied to Sheriff Pete Dowell for

a commission as deputy, in order that in future he might restrain

officially the obnoxious Gordon and others of his kind. The commission

was promptly conferred, and thus Bill Jess McDonald, quietly and

without any special manifest, stepped into the ranks of Texas official

regulators, where, in one capacity or another, he was to serve so long

and well.

But, however quiet his enlistment, his service was to be of another

40
sort. Those were not quiet days, and the officer who set out to enforce

the law was apt to become a busy person. Gordon very soon appeared

again in Mineola, and after investing in a good deal of bad whisky,

went on the war-path, flourishing a six-shooter and giving out the

information that nobody could arrest him. He was in the very midst of a

militant harangue when Deputy McDonald suddenly appeared on the scene,

and before Gordon could gather himself, he was, by some magic "twist

of the wrist," disarmed, arrested and on the way to the calaboose. He

demurred and resisted, but slept that night behind lock and bars. Next

morning he refused breakfast and demanded release. Deputy McDonald left

him in a mixed condition of reflection and profanity, returning at noon

to find him sober, subdued and hungry. Upon promise of good behavior

for the future, he was taken before a justice, where he pled guilty

and paid a fine. Then he took his place as the first example of a long

line of wonderful cures set down to Captain Bill McDonald's credit,

to-day; for he gave little trouble after that and remained mostly in

retirement, to be set upon, at last, by his own dogs, who inflicted

terrible wounds. His death soon afterward was thought to be the result

of this attack.

But the Gordon experience was mild enough, after all, compared with

the many which followed, and is only set down because it marks the

beginning of a career. Indeed, an episode of larger proportions was

already under way. In the timber lying adjacent to Mineola, some three

41
hundred tie-cutters were encamped, supplying cross-ties for the I. &

G.N. road. They were a drinking, lawless lot, and on Saturday nights

the Mineola streets were filled with riot and disorder. The city

marshal, George Reeves, and Deputy McDonald had on several occasions

made arrests and such enforcement of the law had been regarded by the

tie-gang as an affront to all. They sent word to the officers, at last,

that they would be on hand in full force, on the following Saturday,

and that the calaboose might as well go out of commission, so far as

they were concerned.

Saturday night came, and according to promise the tie-cutters were on

the street, numerous and noisy. McDonald and Reeves were among them,

keeping a general lookout for trouble, not always together. The saloons

were full, presently, and the men getting constantly more noisy and

quarrelsome. Seeing a commotion at the rear of a cheap hotel where a

number of the men had gathered, McDonald went over there, and found

Reeves surrounded. Without hesitation he shoved a way through, with his

pistol, until he stood by Reeves's side. Reeves had arrested a man, and

a general riot was imminent. The prisoner was very drunk and disorderly

and demanding that he be allowed to go to his room before accompanying

the officer. Of course the whole intention was to precipitate a general

fight, during which the officers were to be pummeled and battered to a

jelly. Catching the drift of matters, McDonald said:

42
"All right, take him to his room, if he's got one. I'll take care of

this crowd."

There was something in the business-like confidence of that statement

which impressed the crowd. And then he had such a handy way of holding

a six-shooter. Nobody quite wanted to die first, and Reeves started for

the back entrance of the hotel with his man. As they entered the door

the fellow reeled against the casing and fell to the ground. Then a

general stampede started, for it was called out that Reeves had struck

him. McDonald said:

"Stop you fellers! The fool fell down. I'll shoot the first man that

interferes!"

That was another discouraging statement from a man who had a habit of

keeping his word. It seemed to the crowd that an officer like that

didn't play fair. He didn't argue at all. Somebody was likely to get

hurt, if they didn't get that gun away from him. Movements to this end

were started here and there, but they didn't get near enough to the

chief actor to be effective. Finally when Reeves and his prisoner set

out for the calaboose, the crowd moved in that direction, timing their

steps to a chorus of threats and profanity. Reeves and McDonald made

no reply until they arrived at the lockup; then, the disturbers being

there handy, the officers began gathering them in, a dozen at a time.

43
It was a genuine surprise-party for the tie-men. They were too much

astonished for any concerted movement, and when invited at the points

of those guns to step inside and make themselves at home, they did not

have the bad taste to refuse.

"Step in, gentlemen; always room for one more," might have been

the form of the invitation, but it wasn't. It was a Bill McDonald

invitation and it was full of compliments and promises that burnt holes

wherever they hit anything. The calaboose was full in a brief time and

a box-car on a nearby switch was used as an annex. By the time it was

full, there were no more disturbers. The outer edges had melted away.

The woods were full of them. The turbulent tie-men of Texas were sober

and sensible by Monday morning and allowed to go, under promise of good

behavior, and upon payment of adequate fines.

Mineola suddenly became a moral town. Amusements of the old sort

languished. Drunk or sober, it was humiliating to flourish a gun, only

to be suddenly disarmed and marched to the calaboose by a man who acted

as if he thought he was gun-proof. It was hard to understand--it was

supernatural. It was better to go to the next town to nourish the gun.

But by this time Deputy Bill Jess was not satisfied with the quiet

life. He had found his proper vocation--that of active enforcement of

the law--and he was moved to pursue it in remoter places. A certain

44
desperate outlaw, a white man by the name of Jim Bean, had committed

crimes in Smith County, whence he had escaped to Kansas. There he had

killed a city marshal and returned once more to Smith County, which

adjoins Wood on the south. The officers of Smith County had surprised

Jim Bean and his brother Ed, at a small station where they had gone to

rob some freight cars, but the two men had handled their revolvers so

desperately that they had been allowed to escape, and pursuit of them

had been abandoned.

This was the kind of game that Deputy Bill always enjoyed hunting.

It was worth while. He made frequent still-hunts along the Sabine

River, the dividing line between Wood and Smith, hoping to locate his

quarry on the side of his jurisdiction. Perhaps the men knew of these

excursions and remained safely, as they believed, on the other side.

At last, however, the temptation to cross the line became too strong

for a hunter like Bill Jess. The impulse of the Ranger was already upon

him. He crossed the Sabine River into Smith, with his Winchester on his

saddle, and became an official poacher. The river bottom was overgrown

in places with tall cane-brake, and he had reason to believe that the

Beans were hiding, and storing their loot, in the dense growth. He had

heard a rumor, too, that a certain family of swamp-dwellers (negroes)

were in league with the men, and, reflecting on the matter, he

concluded to visit this house, both for the purpose of investigation,

and to borrow a shot-gun, which he thought might be more useful, in a

45
man-chase through a thick cane-brake swamp, than his rifle. Arriving at

the suspected house, he told in his mildest manner a tale of a wounded

deer not far away, and borrowed a shot-gun, as well as the information

that the men and dogs of the place were in the brakes. He now began a

careful still-hunt for his game, and presently came full upon Jim Bean,

who was on a horse, with a shot-gun, guarding some stolen hogs. Bean

was a great burly creature, more animal than man, from having lived and

slept so long in the woods and brakes. He had been shot at many times,

and had been desperately wounded, but such was his natural vitality,

and so hardened was he by exposure that it seemed impossible to kill

him.

Before Bean could move, now, Deputy McDonald had him covered and

commanded him to get off his horse or he would shoot him dead. Bean

obeyed and McDonald threw his own leg over his saddle and slid to the

ground, still covering Bean with his gun. Suddenly Bean made a dash for

a large tree, turning to shoot just as he reached this cover. McDonald

was too quick, however, and let go with two loads of buckshot, which

struck Bean in several places, knocking him down. He then made off in

the direction of a slough, toward thick hiding. The shot-gun was a

muzzle loader and before McDonald could get it charged again he heard

somebody coming through the brush. It was Ed Bean and some negroes. He

was ready for them by the time they came in sight, and throwing his gun

to position he commanded them to halt. Instead of doing so they turned

46
and disappeared in the direction from which they had come. McDonald

now mounted his horse and started in pursuit of the wounded Jim Bean.

He found where he had crossed the slough, and presently came to the

desperado's gun, which had been thrown away in his hurry. Blood-stains

made the trail easy to follow. Soon a powder-horn and then a pair of

boots lay in the path of flight. McDonald followed six miles to a cabin

occupied by negroes. Bean was not in the cabin, but barefoot prints

led into the woods. The man-hunter followed them and finally overtook

their owner. It was not Bean. The officer had been tricked--Bean had

escaped while his pursuer had been following this false lead. It was

dark, now, and further search was hopeless. Next morning the outlaws

had vanished from the country. They never returned and were heard of no

more until some time after, when news came from Wise County that both

the Bean brothers had been killed, resisting arrest.

While this episode did not turn out altogether successfully, inasmuch

as the game got away, it had a better result in that it effected a

complete reconciliation between McDonald and his old, and what was to

be his lifetime friend, James S. Hogg. Certain jealous officials were

bent upon making trouble for the young deputy for overstepping his

authority by working outside of his own county, and especially for

shooting a man in attempting an illegal arrest. McDonald held that

the conditions justified his act, and was going to make his fight on

that ground. But it never came to a fight, for when the matter was

47
brought to the notice of the grand jury, Hogg, by this time District

Attorney, went before that body, and regardless of the old animosity

between McDonald and himself, and of the fact that they were not yet on

speaking terms, declared that if the jury found an indictment against

the deputy for so worthy an undertaking as that which, irregular

or not, had resulted in ridding the country of a gang of outlaws,

he would _nolle pros_ the case--in other words, he would refuse to

prosecute.

When McDonald heard of this, he went to his old friend at once.

"Jim," he said, "you're a gentleman, and I know I want to act right.

Let's not be enemies any more." And they never were.

Ten years later, Jim Hogg, as Governor of Texas, would make it possible

for Bill McDonald to bring down criminals in any county of that mighty

State. But this is further along in our story.

VI

Into the Wilderness

48
A NEW BUSINESS IN A NEW LAND. A "SAND-LAPPER" SHOWS HIS SAND

Hard times came on in Mineola. Railroad building was at an end; crops

failed; men who had bought goods on long credit could not pay. "Bill"

McDonald, as he was now usually called, had been one to carry long

lines of credit for his customers, and he was hurt accordingly. He gave

up business, at last, and in 1883 invested in cattle whatever remained

to him, and set his steps further westward where there was free grass.

He headed toward Wichita County, which was almost an unknown land in

that day, driving his cattle before him, his young wife at his side,

both eager to begin a new life in a new land.

To drive cattle across the wild Texas prairies, twenty-five years ago,

was an experience worth while. There were no fences, no boundaries and

few roads. Settlers were far between. The climate in any season was

likely to be mild; the air was pure and stimulating; society, such as

it was, had not many conventions.

Yet, few and fundamental as were the conditions, they were of a sort to

develop sudden situations, and one had to be ready to face them fairly

and firmly or write himself down as unfit for the wild free life of the

range. The grass was free, but there were always those who wanted to

49
form a trust of its vast areas and make trespassers of the smaller men.

McDonald had scarcely located his herd and pitched his tent when two of

these magnates notified him that he had better move. It was a bluff, of

course, and the man who had been deputy sheriff for half a dozen years

and purified a bad community was the wrong man to use it on. He asked

in that quiet way of his, to let him have a look at their titles, and

when they could not produce them, he added that he thought he'd stay

where he was. They began to tell him of some of the things that were

likely to happen if he did that, but he did not seem impressed by the

information. He repeated that he would stay where he was, and that

anyone who did not wish to be in his neighborhood had his permission to

move on, to other free grass. Perhaps they looked him over a bit more

carefully, then, and noticed the peculiarity of his nose and of his

eyes, and the handy and casual way he had of picking off the heads of

rattlesnakes and such things, with a six-shooter, while he talked. At

all events they did not refer to the matter again and even cultivated

his friendship. In a neighborhood where cattle thieves were beginning

to be troublesome a man like that would be handy to have around. They

were to have an example presently of his willingness and ability to

defend the rights of ownership--a small example, but convincing.

It was no easy matter to keep a herd intact in those days. In a land

of free grass, where the cost of cattle was chiefly the expense

of herding, it was not likely that the moral title to the cattle

50
themselves would be very highly regarded, especially where brands had

been obliterated, or where a few strays mingled with a larger herd.

The outlaw pure and simple was bad enough, but to the newcomer with a

small bunch of "cows" (cattle, regardless of gender), the vast roaming

herd, guarded by a veritable army of punchers whose respect for any

law was small enough, was an even greater menace. McDonald knew of

these conditions, and when, soon after his arrival, some of his cattle

strayed away, he set out to inspect the surrounding herds. After riding

some distance he came upon a large drove, evidently on its way to

market. It was about noon and the men were "rounding-in" for dinner.

McDonald started to address a herder, when the man turned abruptly and

started off. McDonald immediately began looking through the cattle,

whereupon the herder wheeled.

"What do you want in there?" he asked roughly.

"I was looking for hobbled horses," was the easy reply. The puncher

made some surly comment and rode away.

McDonald, presently satisfied that his stray cattle were not with that

portion of the drove, continued his search further along and came up

with the "chuck-wagon" where dinner was being prepared. Cow-men are

hospitable and the foreman invited him to dismount and join them. He

did so, and a little later the surly puncher came in, giving the camp

51
guest anything but a friendly look. In the course of the meal the

visitor was asked where he was from.

"Mineola," he said, "Wood County." The surly herder spoke up.

"These d--d sand-lappers (east-Texans) are getting too thick out here."

McDonald set down his coffee.

"The d--d skunks and prairie dogs are already too thick," he said.

An instant later the puncher had out his pistol, but the sand-lapper

was still quicker. The puncher was covered before he could bring his

weapon to bear. McDonald said:

"Turn it loose! Drop it!"

[Illustration: INTRODUCING REFORM IN THE WILDERNESS.

"He was disarmed with amazing suddenness."]

The herder still clutched the weapon which he was afraid to raise. The

sand-lapper stepped nearer to him, and with a sudden movement rapped

him smartly on the head with the heavy barrel of his six-shooter. It

52
was a thing that as a deputy he had done often, and it was always

effective. The puncher dropped his gun. One of his comrades sprang to

his assistance, but was covered and disarmed with amazing suddenness.

The foreman interfered, now, and the beginner of the disturbance was

led away to a brook to have his head bathed and bandaged; whereupon the

sand-lapper quietly finished his dinner, thanked his host, continued

the search for his missing stock, and when he had found them, set

out for home. Meeting a group of punchers among which was his surly

friend with a now bandaged head, he expected further trouble. Nothing

happened. The sand-lapper and his missing cows had the right of way.

VII

Commercial Ventures and Adventures

BILL MCDONALD'S METHOD OF COLLECTING A BILL; AND HIS

METHOD OF HANDLING

BAD MEN

The inclination to commercial enterprise still survived. At the end of

53
a year McDonald sold his cattle and invested in the lumber business at

Wichita Falls--another railway terminus, dropped down in the prairie,

with a population of about two thousand, at that time. A little later

he established a branch business at Harrold when the railway reached

that point. Two big lumber yards were already established at Wichita

Falls, and the competition was strenuous. It was a brief experience for

McDonald, for he presently yearned for the freer life of the range,

and soon abandoned commerce, once more, for cattle--this time for

good. Yet the experience was not without valuable return, inasmuch as

it established for him in Wichita Falls, quickly and permanently, a

reputation of a useful kind in a country where law and order are likely

to be of an elemental, go-as-you-please sort. It happened in this wise:

There was a merchant in Baylor County, Texas, to whom Lumberman

McDonald sold a good bill, on time. The account ran along, until one

day the county judge of Baylor, one Melvin, dropped in and stated

that he had called to settle the amount for his neighbor. He gave his

own check for it and McDonald supposed the matter had ended. A few

days later the bank returned Melvin's check as worthless. Evidently

the quiet unobtrusive life which Bill Jess had been living as a lumber

merchant had given the impression that he was an inoffensive person who

would pocket a loss rather than make trouble, especially with a county

judge, who added to his official prestige the reputation of being a

very bad man from "far up Bitter Creek." However, this impression was

54
a mistake. McDonald ascertained that his customer had really sent the

money by Melvin, to pay his bill, and considered what he ought to do.

Morally, perhaps legally, he could have demanded payment a second time,

on the ground that the said customer, being acquainted with Melvin,

should have selected a more reliable messenger. But that was not the

Bill McDonald way. What he did was to write to Melvin, demanding an

explanation; adding in pretty positive terms that he expected immediate

settlement. No reply came and a second and a third letter followed,

each getting more definite as to phrase. Then one day Melvin and

certain henchmen from Baylor appeared on the streets of Wichita Falls.

McDonald who had heard of their arrival, suddenly confronted Melvin and

delivered himself in whatever terms and emphasis as he had on hand at

the moment. Melvin withdrew, gathered his clans and laid for McDonald

in a saloon where the latter had to pass. Though previously warned of

the ambush, McDonald did pass, with the result that next morning Melvin

settled his bill in full, paid for a glass door that he had broken,

and a fine and costs amounting to sixty-five dollars, for carrying

concealed weapons. What really happened to Melvin is best told in Bill

Jess's own testimony when that same morning he had, himself, been

summoned to answer a charge for carrying concealed weapons, disturbing

the peace, and for assault--said action being the result of Melvin's

judicial pull. Arriving at the court-room the prosecuting attorney

asked McDonald if he had a lawyer.

55
"No," he said, "I don't need anybody to defend me for knocking that

scoundrel over. I'll attend to my own case, whatever is necessary."

The attorney then stated the charge to the court. Bill Jess waited

until he was through and then asked permission to speak.

"Your honor," he said, rising, "I'm a busy man with no time to be

fooling around this way with men who give bogus checks and steal

horses and such like, but if your honor will spare about a minute I'll

tell the court what happened." He then gave a history of the lumber

transaction, and added the sequel, as follows:

"When I wrote him as strong a letter as I could frame up, and as would

go through the mail, he came down with a crowd of what he thought was

fighting men, and I met him and tried like a gentleman to persuade him

to settle up and to convince him what a dad-blamed rascal he was; which

he pled guilty to, and didn't deny. Then he gathers his feeble bunch

of fighters together, arms them up with six-shooters and corrals them

in Bill Holly's saloon, that I had to pass, going home. I met Johnny

Hammond who tried to persuade me not to take that street--said those

fellows were up there and I'd better go in some other direction. I

said I wasn't in the habit of going out of my way for such cattle, and

proceeded on up the street. When I got in front of Bill Holly's, Melvin

and his warriors stepped out. Melvin wanted an explanation of my former

56
remarks, and I gave it to him and added some more which I would not

like to mention in the presence of the court. Then he pulled out a big

white-handled forty-five six-shooter, but being a little slow with it,

I grabbed it by the barrel and hit him with my fist two or three times,

which kind of jarred him loose from his gun. Then I gave him a rap on

the head with it and knocked him through Bill Holly's glass-front door,

into the saloon. His pals pulled their guns, but I covered them with

the one I took away from Melvin and they nearly broke the furniture to

pieces getting out of there. I didn't see any more of any of them until

next morning. Then I looked up the bunch and got a check in full, with

interest, from Melvin, and made him pay Bill Holly five dollars for

his glass door. So far as carrying a gun is concerned, I had one, and

I got another from this fellow here who had pulled it on me. I took

it away from him and hit him with it, and I have the same here in my

possession now, to turn over to the Court."

Bill Jess reached down somewhere and drawing forth the big white

handled six-shooter, laid it down in front of the court. Then suddenly

turning upon Melvin who was present, he looked him straight through.

"Melvin, is not all I have told the Court true?" he demanded.

Melvin found himself unable to tell anything but the truth, just then.

57
"Yes, sir," he said, quite meekly.

McDonald was discharged and Melvin paid a fine as before noted.

Following this incident came another which solidified Bill

McDonald's reputation for nerve, in Wichita Falls. Bill Holly, the

aforementioned--whose name in another part of the State had been Buck

Holly, which he forgot when he left East Texas, after getting into a

mix-up, during which the other man died--one day absorbed an overdose

of his own stock-in-trade and set forth to shoot up the town. He went

afoot and let go at things generally, emptying the streets and bringing

business to a standstill. The city marshal was organizing a posse to

take him, and summoned McDonald, when McDonald said:

"Give me the key to the calaboose, and the' won't be no need of a

posse."

He took the key in one hand and a six-shooter in the other; marched up

to where Holly was practicing on front-doors and hardware signs; struck

the gun close up under the nose of the disturber, and with his quick

magic, disarmed him and set out with him for the lockup. Holly begged

and pleaded and was finally locked in a room in the hotel. He broke a

window before morning and promptly paid for it by McDonald's request.

He made a fairly quiet citizen during the remainder of McDonald's stay

in Wichita Falls.

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Removing to Hardeman County was the only thing that saved Bill

McDonald from being drafted into official service where he was. Law

abiding citizens with his gifts are scarce enough anywhere, and

they were needed in the cattle districts of Texas. There was not

much law in those parts, none at all outside of the towns. In the

countries bordering on Indian Territory and up through the Pan-handle

a man had to "stand pat" whatever his hand, and hold his own by

strength of arm and quickness of trigger. Cow thieves and cut-throats

abounded. Officials often worked in accord with them, or were afraid

to prosecute. The man who would neither co-operate with outlaws nor

condone their offences was already on the ground and would presently be

in the field. It was a wide field and a fruitful one and the harvest

was ripe for the gathering.

Hardeman County was a tough locality in the early eighties. It had

lately been organized, and the settlers were cow-men, cowboys and

gamblers--lawless enough, themselves--and another element, which

pretended to be these things, but in reality consisted of outlaws,

pure and simple. The latter lived chiefly off of the herds, driving

off horses and cattle and hiding them in remote and inaccessible

places. Often cattle were butchered; their hides, which were marked

with brand and ear-marks were destroyed to avoid identification, and

the meat was sold. Men who did these things were known well enough,

59
but went unapprehended for the reasons named. In certain sections of

the Territory itself and in No-man's Land (a piece of disputed ground

lying to the north of the Pan-handle, now a part of Oklahoma) matters

were even worse. In these places there was hardly a semblance of law.

Certainly the need of active reform--of an official crusader, without

fear and above reproach--was both wide and vociferous.

VIII

Reforming the Wilderness

THE KIND OF MEN TO BE REFORMED. EARLY REFORMS IN QUANAH.

BAD MEN MEET

THEIR MATCH

It was in 1885 that Bill McDonald disposed of his lumber interests in

Wichita Falls and at Harrold, reinvested in cattle and set out once

more for the still farther west. He had filed on some school-land

on Wanderer's Creek in Hardeman County, about four miles from where

the town of Quanah now stands, and in the heart of what was then the

60
wilderness. Somewhat previous to this, McDonald, whose reputation as

a man of nerve had traveled to Harrold, was one night called upon by

Ranger Lieutenant Sam Platt to assist in handling a gang of outlaws,

known as the Brooken Band, that infested the neighborhood. The Brookens

had ridden into Harrold and were running things in pretty much their

own way. Platt and McDonald promptly bore down upon them and a running

fight ensued as the Brookens retreated. About one hundred shots were

fired altogether, but it was dark and the range was too great for

accuracy. Nothing was accomplished, but the event marked the beginning

of a warfare between Bill McDonald and a band of cut-throats, the end

of which would be history. It was soon after this first skirmish that

McDonald sold out his lumber business and set out for his Hardeman

County ranch. As on his former migration he drove his cattle to the new

land, and after the first hard day's drive, camped at nightfall in a

pleasant spot where grass was plentiful and water handy. It seemed a

good place, and man and beast gladly halted for food and rest.

But next morning there was trouble. When preparations for an early

start were under headway, it was suddenly discovered that four of the

best horses and a fine Newfoundland dog were missing. Investigation

of the surrounding country was made, and two of the horses were found

astray, evidently having broken loose from their captors. It was

further discovered that the Brooken Band had a rendezvous in what was

known as the Cedar-brakes, a stretch of rough country, densely covered

61
with scrubby cedar, located about twelve miles to the south westward.

McDonald naturally felt that it was again his "move" in the Brooken

game, but it did not seem expedient to stop the journey with the herd

and undertake the move, just then, so biding his time he pushed on, to

his land on Wanderer's Creek, where he established his ranch, fenced

his property, built a habitation for himself and the wife who was

always ready to follow him into the wilderness; then he rode over to

Margaret, at that time the county-seat, and asked Sheriff Jim Alley--a

good man with his hands over full--to appoint him deputy that he might

begin the work which clearly must be done in that country before

it could become a proper habitation for law abiding citizens. The

commission was readily granted, and from that appointment dates "that

tired feeling" which the bad men of Texas began to have when they heard

the sound of Bill McDonald's name.

Another word as to the kind of men with which an officer in those days

had to deal. They were not ordinary malefactors, but choice selections

from the world at large. "What was your name before you came to Texas?"

was a common inquiry in those earlier days, and it was often added

that a man could go to Texas when he couldn't go anywhere else. It was

such a big State, with so many remote fastnesses, so many easy escapes

across the borders. It was the natural last resort of men who could

not live elsewhere with safety or profit. There is a story of a man

arrested in Texas in those days for some misdemeanor, who was advised

62
by his lawyer to leave the State without delay.

"But where shall I go?" asked the troubled offender, "I'm in _Texas,

now_."

They were the men who had borne other names before they came to Texas

and who were "in Texas, now," because they could not live elsewhere and

keep off of the scaffold, that Bill McDonald undertook to exterminate.

He was willing to undertake the task single handed, if necessary, and

in reality did much of his work in that manner, as we shall see.

With his commission in his pocket Bill Jess was not long in getting

down to his favorite employment, that of man-hunting. He began quietly,

for he wanted to identify some of the men nearer at hand who were in

one way and another connected with the Cedar-brakes gang. Bill Brooken,

a notorious outlaw, was the head of the band, and his brother Bood was

one of its chief members. The Brookens were wanted not only for cattle

stealing, but for train-robbing and murder, as well. A certain Bull

Turner was one of their victims. Turner was said to have been one of

the Brooken gang at an earlier time, but had abandoned that way of life

and made an effort to become a decent citizen. The gang believed he had

given information, and somewhat later when he was driving across the

country with a prominent stockman--a Hebrew named Lazarus--the Brookens

and half a dozen of their followers suddenly dashed out of a roadside

63
concealment and began firing. Turner was instantly killed, and Lazarus

fell over the dash-board in a wild effort to get behind something.

The frightened horses, one of them wounded in the foot, ran madly all

the way to town with Lazarus still clinging to the whiffletrees. He

received no injury, but acquired a scare which was permanent.

With the assistance of Sheriff Alley--also short a horse, through

the industries of the Brooken gang--and one Pat Wolforth, who was

acquainted with certain of the silent partners of the outlaws and stood

ready to give information, several arrests were made, presently, and

trouble filled the air.

Threatening letters now began to come to the new deputy, warning

him against further procedure--promising him death and torture of

many varieties if he did not suspend operations. Such letters always

stimulated Bill McDonald to renewed enterprise. He redoubled his

efforts and brought in offenders of various kinds almost daily.

Cattle stealers began to migrate to other counties. Their friends and

beneficiaries grew nervous.

Meantime, the railroad had reached Hardeman and the town of

Quanah--named for Chief Quanah Parker, son of the historic Cynthia

Ann Parker--had sprung up. It was the typical tough place and certain

bad men still at large came there to proclaim vengeance and to "lay"

64
for the men who were making them trouble. Among these disturbers was

one John Davidson of Wilbarger County, on the borders of which the

Cedar-brakes gang was located. Davidson was reputed to have killed

several men and was believed to be an accessory of the Brooken Band,

but was thus far not positively identified, and remained unapprehended.

He did not hesitate, however, to boast of his always being armed and

ready for men like Bill McDonald, and especially for Pat Wolforth who

was getting good friends and neighbors into trouble.

Davidson appeared presently on the streets of Quanah, flourishing his

fire-arms and making his boasts. McDonald suddenly arrived on the

scene, and without any parley whatever stepped quickly up to Davidson

and disarmed him so suddenly that the terror of Wilbarger stood dazed,

and did not recover himself until he was half way to the office of

justice, where he paid a fine. It was an unusual proceeding. It was

unprecedented. The customary thing was a noisy warfare of words,

followed by a general shooting, with the bad man in possession when the

smoke had cleared away. This new method was prosaic. Davidson couldn't

understand it at all. He tried it again the next week, with the same

result. He kept on trying it, and each time settled for his amusement

with a fine. Why he did not kill somebody he couldn't understand. He

never seemed to get in action before Bill McDonald had his gun and

was marching him to the "Captain's Office." Finally he got himself

appointed Deputy Sheriff of Wilbarger and came triumphantly to Quanah,

65
with his commission, which he believed would entitle him to carry

arms. Met suddenly, as usual, by McDonald and promptly disarmed, he

flourished his commission.

"That's all right, Bill McDonald, but I'm fixed for you this time. Give

me back that gun."

McDonald said:

"Your commission won't do you much good up here. If Sheriff Barker

wants to appoint a man that throws in with thieves, all right. But in

Hardeman County we don't have to recognize him."

There was never such a stubborn man, Davidson decided, as that fool

deputy, Bill McDonald. He decided to wait until McDonald should be

absent, and then have it out with Wolforth. When the time came,

Davidson brought a gang along with him and they followed Wolforth about

with pestering remarks, until their victim suddenly grew tired of the

annoyance, and opened fire. This was unexpected and the gang retired

for reorganization. Then some rangers, quartered at Quanah, appeared

on the scene, and Wolforth was put under arrest. He was taken before a

justice, who fixed his bond at a thousand dollars, which he was unable

to raise, because of the dread in which Davidson and his crowd were

held. It was just about this moment that Deputy McDonald returned, and

66
the Rangers delivered Wolforth into his hands.

"What's the matter, Pat?" McDonald asked.

His co-worker explained how he had fired on the Davidson gang, though

without damage to anybody.

"And they put you under a thousand dollar bond for it?" commented

Deputy Bill.

"Yes."

"Well, they ought to have made it a good deal heavier for your not

being a better shot. Never mind, I'll fill your bond all right," and

this McDonald did, immediately.

The Davidson crowd was still in town, and far from satisfied. Davidson

felt that he had support enough now to tackle even that hard-headed

McDonald, and he enlisted a big butcher named Williams to stir up the

mess. The gang armed themselves with long butcher knives from Williams'

shop and started out to hunt up their victim. They located him in a

saloon where troubles of various kinds were likely to originate and the

presence of an officer was desirable. Big Bill Williams, the butcher,

entered first and coming near to McDonald, slightly bumped against him.

67
Not wishing trouble, McDonald walked away, followed by Williams who

bumped against him again. Deputy Bill then walked to the other side of

the room, which was unoccupied, and when Williams and his crowd started

to follow, he warned them not to come any closer. At this a number of

cow-men who were present saw the trouble and stepped in, and Williams

and his crowd worked toward the door. Outside, the disturbers gave vent

to their animosity for McDonald in violent language and opprobrious

names. Suddenly McDonald himself stepped out among them and seeing a

piece of scantling about four feet long lying by the door, he seized

it and as Williams started toward him he gave the big butcher a lick

across the face with it that flattened his features and put a habitual

crook in his nose. The crowd thought Williams was killed and his

supporters began to get out of the way of the scantling. But McDonald

dropped it and had out his guns in a moment.

"Halt!" he said, "every one of you. Hold up there!" Then to the Rangers

who at that moment appeared on the scene, "Search those men for

weapons."

Search was made and the long butcher knives, intended for McDonald,

came to light. A knife of the same kind was found on Williams.

"Now get a doctor quick," commanded McDonald, "that fellow looks like

he's pretty badly hurt."

68
A doctor was found and Williams was removed. McDonald's wife, then

stopping at a nearby hotel, had been an interested, not to say

excited, spectator of the proceedings, and now called down a few words

of encouragement and approval. Somewhat later, word was brought to

Deputy Bill that what was left of the Davidson and Williams crowd had

collected in Tip McDowell's saloon, where a brother of Williams tended

bar, and these were declaring war to the death. McDonald promptly

went down there and entered, with a revolver in each hand. The crowd

of would-be assassins, about a dozen or so, took one look and made a

break for the back window, climbing over chairs, counters and billiard

tables--some of them almost tearing the bar down in an effort to get

behind it. Deputy Bill held enough of them with the persuasion of his

two six-shooters to give them some useful information in the matter of

running a town like Quanah and the surrounding country, as long as he

was in office.

"You thieves that have been trying to run over this country, and

stealing cattle and shooting the town up," he said, "from now on

are going to stop it. And you fellows like Bill Williams that are

selling stolen beef, are going to stop that, too. If any one of you

sells a pound of beef hereafter without showing me the hide and the

brand-marks, you'll go behind the bars and I'll put you there."

69
There was something about the tone of that brief address that made it

sink in, and from that time forward when beef was brought to Quanah the

hide came with it, and they would wake up Deputy Bill McDonald to show

it to him as early as three o'clock in the morning.

As for Davidson, he now became an officer of the law, in reality.

Satisfied, no doubt, that the Cedar-brakes gang was doomed, he came

to McDonald and offered to guide him to the den of the Brookens if

McDonald would cause to be dismissed certain indictments which had been

lodged against him. McDonald consulted Sheriff Barker of Wilbarger and

the arrangement was made. Davidson then ascertained when his former

business associates would be at their headquarters in the brakes, and

the raid was planned accordingly.

IX

Getting even with the Brooken Gang

THE BROOKENS DON'T WAIT FOR CALLERS. ONE HUNDRED AND

TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS

SENTENCE FOR AN OUTLAW

70
The brakes of the Big Wichita made an ideal cover for outlaws engaged

in the industry of stealing cattle and horses. There were plenty of

grass and water there and the ground was so densely covered with

scrub cedar as to afford any number of hiding places. Moreover, there

were deep gulches and canyons that made travel dangerous to those not

familiar with the region. The place was remote and not often molested.

Everything being arranged, the raiders set out--Sheriff Barker of

Wilbarger, in charge--the party including two Rangers from Quanah. On

drawing near the locality, Barker proposed that all but two men should

halt, several hundred yards from the stronghold--a dug-out occupied

by the gang when at home. To this, Deputy Bill strenuously objected.

He wanted to charge forthwith, believing always in a surprise attack.

Barker, however, being in his own county, was in command and was for

more gradual tactics. He added that McDonald's big white hat would

attract attention before they could get near enough to charge. Two men

were therefore sent to reconnoiter and report. The rest lay in hiding.

Presently peering through the trees they saw two other men ride up to

the dug-out and go in. Deputy Bill was all excitement.

"There they are now," he said, "let's get down there and get them."

71
Again he was overruled. In a few minutes a number of men issued from

the dug-out, mounted horses and rode away. The first two had been

scouts, and had given warning. At the same moment Barker's two men came

running back with the information that the Brookens were getting away.

"Of course they're getting away," said McDonald. "Do you suppose they

are going to wait and hold an afternoon tea when we arrive?"

Accompanied by one of the Rangers, he started in pursuit of the

outlaws, but it was impossible to follow far in that dense unfamiliar

place. Returning to the dug-out they were rejoiced to find Sheriff

Alley's horse, so something was accomplished, though the expedition as

a whole had failed, through over-caution.

McDonald now resolved to hunt on his own hook. As deputy sheriff,

he was restricted to his own county, but this handicap was speedily

removed, through Ranger Captain S.A. McMurray, who had him appointed

by Governor L.S. Ross as special ranger, with sheriff's rights in any

county in the State.

His authority was to be still further extended, very soon. One day he

received a letter from Captain George A. Knight of Dallas, Texas, U.S.

Marshal of the Northern District of Texas, asking him to come to Dallas

and be made U.S. Deputy Marshal, with authority to operate in Southern

72
Indian Territory and No-man's land, where a man like him was sorely

needed. McDonald went down without delay and reported at Knight's

office.

"I have heard about you and your work up in Hardeman," said Captain

Knight, "and I want you for a deputy. But first tell me what are your

politics?"

McDonald did not hesitate. Knight was a Republican.

"Captain Knight," he said, "I am the damndest, hell-roaringest,

allfiredest Democrat you ever saw. If politics has anything to do with

this appointment I'd just as well go back."

"Well," said Knight, "you're pretty emphatic, but I guess you'll do.

Your kind of politics seem to suit your job pretty well."

It was only a little while after this that Bill McDonald was also

made Deputy U.S. Marshal of the southern district of Kansas, which

enabled him to work in the remaining portion of the Territory, and now,

with his four offices--two Deputy U.S. Marshalships, Deputy Sheriff

of Hardeman County, and that of Special Ranger--he was qualified to

undertake at any time any sort of a man-hunt in any territory likely

to invite his services. He went after the Brooken gang forthwith, but

73
this time they did not wait for him. His fame was already in their ears.

He followed them like a hound on the trail. He never recovered his two

horses and his Newfoundland dog, but he broke up the gang, utterly. He

brought in Bood Brooken at last and got him sentenced for five years.

Bill Brooken himself escaped to Mexico, was captured there, brought

back and sentenced for one hundred and twenty-seven years. He has a

good deal of that time still to serve.

The life work of the boy who long ago had begun it by hunting slaves

in the swamps of Mississippi was well started, now; his name as a

thief-catcher was beginning to be known, and honored, and feared.

Yet his more active days--his more valuable days to the community at

large--still lay all ahead, and of these we shall undertake to tell.

New Tactics in No-man's Land

A MAN WITH A BUCK-BOARD. HOLDING UP A BAD GANG SINGLE-

HANDED

74
Something which resembled a sense of security began to manifest itself

in Hardeman and the surrounding counties. There were still cattle

thieves--plenty of them--but with their rendezvous in the immediate

neighborhood broken up, their work became less deliberate. They

harbored now further away--in the remoter places of the Pan-handle, in

the Cherokee Strip and in the fastnesses of No-man's Land. From these

strong-holds they made their raids, which though more sporadic and less

devastating were still a vast nuisance, particularly along the border

counties, where the outlaws could run over at night, raid a herd none

too well guarded, and have the stolen cattle hidden in some gully or

canyon or brake in their own lawless land by morning.

No-man's Land was a favorite retreat for cattle thieves. It was that

strip of public land which was set down on the map as a part of Indian

Territory, but really belonged to nobody at all. Different ones of the

surrounding States claimed it, and the outlaws owned it, by possession

and force of arms. There was no law there and few law abiding citizens.

What there were, were hard to find, and they didn't want officers to

stop with them for fear of the enmity of the thieves, who were so

greatly in the majority. It was a fine, sightly land--with good grass

and plenty of water--level land, some of it, though there was rough

country there too--with good places for outlaws to hide. Here they

75
built their dug-outs or cabins, established their households and herded

their stolen stock. Some of the cattle they butchered, peddling the

meat in Kansas or the Pan-handle. Some of the beef they had the nerve

and assurance to drive to market--even to ship--openly, to Kansas City

or Chicago.

It was necessary that No-man's Land should be reclaimed, and it

was partly for this purpose that U.S. Marshal George A. Knight had

commissioned Bill McDonald his deputy. Thus far all statutory law had

been disregarded in No-man's Land--all officers had been defied. When,

as had happened now and then, an officer had made his way into that

wilderness, he either lost his life, or had his revolver and whisky

and tobacco taken away from him and was booted back across the border.

It had been demonstrated that Bill McDonald had a convincing way with

his words and movements, and that he had a nose for locating cow

thieves. Furthermore, it was believed that he would not be likely to

submit to any liberties taken with his six-shooter and tobacco, or to

indignities of any sort. So, when the Brookens and other established

"dealers of the range" had been evicted from Hardeman and adjoining

counties, it fell to Bill McDonald to begin the No-man's Land crusade.

He was working over in the Pan-handle in 1887 when he learned of a

horse that had been stolen somewhere below, and he set out in pursuit

of the thief. Such trail as he could find led straight for No-man's

76
Land and he knew that he was bound at last for that lawless locality

where U.S. deputy marshals were favorite victims.

He was alone, but this fact did not disturb him. He had always

preferred to hunt in that way. There was less chance of frightening

the game. When he reached Hutchinson County, which is in the second

tier from the north Texas line, he stopped at Turkey Track Ranch and

borrowed a buck-board in which to bring home his catch. It was still

seventy-five miles to the No-man's Land line, but buck-boards were few

in the Pan-handle in those days and this was likely to be the last

chance to get one. It is possible that Turkey Track Ranch said good-by

to that buck-board when he drove away, for while they had heard of Bill

McDonald, they also knew of the usual fate of the U.S. deputy marshals

who, with or without a buck-board, set out on an invasion of No-man's

Land.

It was a long lonesome drive across Hutchinson and Hansford Counties,

and up through No-man's Land, to the waters of Beaver Creek. The trail

was not very difficult here, for the thief probably did not expect to

be followed--certainly not farther than the border line, and had made

little effort to cover his track. It was toward the end of the second

or third day, at last, that the trail became very fresh, and the man

in the buck-board came to a halt and set out on foot to locate his

game. As silently and cautiously as an Indian he crept through the

77
brush until he reached a place where peering through he located, some

distance away on the river bank, a camp consisting of four men and the

same number of horses. His man had found comrades, that was evident,

and it was likely they would join in his defense. McDonald lay in the

brush, watching them, as long as it was light and then crept closer,

trying to identify the horse he was after, and which of the men had him

in charge. He had no intention of beginning operations that night, for

he had long since made up his mind that the proper time for a surprise

attack is in the early morning. Men have not gathered themselves,

then, and have not been awake long enough to be fearless, and quick of

thought and action. His purpose now was to know his ground exactly, so

that with daylight he could act with a clear understanding.

He was obliged to wait until daylight before he could be sure of his

ground; then, awake and watching, he saw the different men go to look

after their horses. He located a bay horse that answered to the

description of the stolen animal, and identified the man who had him

in charge. He crept back to his buck-board now, got in and drove up

leisurely to the outlaw camp, looking as inoffensive and guileless as

any other fly with a horse and buck-board, driving straight into the

spider's den.

"Good-morning, boys," he said pleasantly, "you-all look mighty

comfortable with that fire going. I lost my way and laid out last

78
night. Mebbe you-all can tell me something about the trails around

here. There don't seem to be none that I can find."

They invited him cordially to get down and warm himself and said they

would show him the trail. McDonald stepped out and walked over to the

fire, still talking about the country and the weather, working over

close to the man he wanted. The deputy wore a short overcoat, and he

had a pair of hand-cuffs in the left side-pocket. He got just in front

of his man at last and reached out his right hand as if to shake hands

with him. Instinctively the man extended his own right hand and at

that instant McDonald's left with the open hand-cuffs was out like a

flash--there was a quick snap, a sudden movement--a slight-of-hand

movement it was--then another quick snap and the horse thief, dazed and

half stupefied stood gazing down at the manacles on his wrists, while

Bill McDonald, a gun in each hand, quietly regarded the other three

members of the camp.

The captive was first to break the silence.

"Boys," he said, "what does this mean?"

One of the men turned to McDonald.

"Yes," he said, "what does this mean? Who are _you_ and what are you

79
going to do with that man?"

"I'm Deputy U.S. Marshal McDonald, of Texas," was the cheerful reply,

"and I'm going to take this man with me and put him in jail."

"What for?"

"For stealing that bay horse out there."

The outlaw advanced a step.

"And you'll just about play hell doing it!" he said.

"All right, I am ready to start the game right now," said McDonald.

The men whispered a little among themselves. Their saddles were off to

one side and their Winchesters lay across them, all there together.

They wore six-shooters also, but they realized who their man was, now,

and they were careful to make no movement toward them. Presently one of

the men said:

"You say you are going to put that fellow in jail?"

"That's what I'm going to do."

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"Well, now let's see about that."

The men were starting in as if to make an argument. One of the party

began working a little in the direction of the guns. The idea was to

distract the officer's attention for a moment and get the drop

on him. It was a good game, but it failed to work in this instance.

McDonald brought his guns exactly to bear on the men in front of him.

[Illustration: BEGINNING A CAMPAIGN IN NO-MAN'S LAND.

"Three pairs of hands went up."]

"Throw up your hands!" he commanded, "every one of you quick! Throw

them up, you scoundrels!"

Three pairs of hands went up. That command from Bill McDonald has

almost never been disobeyed. Perhaps it is the tone of the voice

that makes it convincing. Perhaps it is the curious look in those

needle-pointed eyes of his; perhaps it is something more than

these--something psychologically imperative. Whatever it is, it has

filled the air of Texas with hands, from Red River to the Rio Grande.

"Now, face the other way!" was the next command.

81
The men faced about, their hands still high above their heads. With

one six-shooter still on them, McDonald went up behind each man and

disarmed him, sticking the revolvers in his own belt. Then he went

over and took the cartridges out of the Winchesters. He now marched

his men to where the horses were hitched, secured the stolen one and

tied him to the buck-board. Then he ordered his prisoner to get in and

proceeded to shackle him to the slats of the vehicle. The other three

men, meantime, were kept in a group, a rod or so ahead in the direction

of Texas.

"Now, march for Texas, you devils!" McDonald said, when he was seated

beside his prisoner. The procession started, the men complaining that

they had done nothing, and that he had no right to take them back, even

if he were authorized to take the other man.

Deputy Bill said:

"You fellows have been in the habit over here of resisting and killing

officers, or driving them out, and doing as you please. I just want

to show you how easy it is to take your kind. Come, move right along

there, now. I don't know what you've done, but you probably stole all

those horses back yonder."

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The men now began to beg for their horses, complaining that the

animals left behind would stay there and starve. McDonald really had

no intention of taking them all the way back with him. He had no

warrants for them, and besides he did not care to march and camp with

that number unless necessary. His purpose was to get them far enough

away so that they would not be likely to try to overtake him and catch

him asleep when he should halt for the night. He made no concessions

however, until they were well along toward the Texas line. Then he said:

"Now, if you fellows think you can behave yourselves and want to go

back and tend to your horses, I may let you go back on that account.

But you can make up your minds, and you can tell your friends about it,

that I'm not afraid of any of you, and I'm going to clear you dam'd

thieves out of this country. I'm going to show you that there's one man

you won't kill nor run out. Now, will you do what I tell you?"

The men protested that they were good citizens, and that if he would

let them off they would undertake missionary work in the cause of law

and order. He let them go, then, and handed back their unloaded arms,

promising them another fate, if he ever caught them in mischief. He

watched them disappear behind the first rise; then, whipping up, he

made the best time he could for Turkey Track Ranch, where he rested

a day, delivered the borrowed buck-board, taking his prisoner next

morning to jail.

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XI

Redeeming No-man's Land

BILL MCDONALD AND LON BURSON GATHER IN THE BAD MEN. "NO
MAN IN THE

WRONG CAN STAND UP AGAINST A FELLOW THAT'S IN THE RIGHT

AND KEEPS ON

A-COMIN'"

It was natural that other work in No-man's Land should follow this

first experiment. It having been demonstrated that Bill McDonald could

go into that infested place and not only come out alive, but bring back

his man, other and more extensive contracts were laid out for him.

There were several bad gangs there to be broken up before legitimate

settlers could live there, and it was decided that McDonald was the man

for the job.

McDonald on his part was ready for the undertaking, it being of a sort

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which he found always most congenial. Deciding that it was a good thing

to have a reliable partner in the handling of a gang, he selected for

his associate another deputy marshal--one Lon Burson of Henrietta--a

quiet athletic fellow with plenty of grit and endurance.

"I could always rely upon Lon," McDonald said, in speaking of that

period, long after; "I believed I knew just what he would do, every

time, and he never failed me." It may be added that Burson on his part

had complete faith in McDonald, and that their ideas of conducting a

campaign were in exact accord.

They began on what was thought to be one of the worst gangs, a band

of nine who had established on Beaver Creek a general headquarters

from which they conducted a miscellaneous business in crime--stealing

cattle and horses, robbing trains and shooting down bank officials when

occasion offered, frequently crossing over into adjoining States for

that purpose.

McDonald had laid out the plan of attack, which was to arrive on the

scene at his favorite early hour--daybreak--and then to do no parleying

or long distance firing, but to charge at once and storm the works. His

theory was--and is to-day--that the criminal cannot stand up against

the man who is not afraid of him and does not hesitate.

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"If you wilt or falter he will kill you," he has often said, "but if

you go straight at him and never give him time to get to cover, or to

think, he will weaken ninety-nine times in a hundred. No man in the

wrong can stand up against a fellow that's in the right and keeps on

a-comin'. I made up my mind to that long ago, and I've never made a

mistake yet."

Here in homely vernacular is expressed a mighty truth. Crime is always

coward and cannot stand against the conviction of right. Error cannot

survive in the face of truth that does not falter and "keeps on

a-comin'."

McDonald and Burson proceeded in the saddle to Higgins, in Lipscomb

County--a station on the Santa Fe Bail road, and their last base of

supplies. Here they chartered a big three-seated hack in which to bring

back their prisoners, should their raid prove successful. They put

their own horses to this vehicle, loaded their saddles in behind and

continued their journey.

It was toward evening when they arrived in the neighborhood of the

outlaw den and camped in a secluded place, to wait for morning. The

house stood in the edge of the prairie, near Beaver Creek and was easy

of access. It was made of logs and seemed to be a deserted ranch place,

probably built by some adventurous person who had long since departed

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for a locality where there was more law, even if less grass.

One of the band--an early riser--had just gone out to round up the

horses when the two deputies, mounted, made their approach, next

morning. He discovered them when they were about four hundred yards

away and made for the house, McDonald and Burson following at full

speed. The outlaw was a little in advance, and his eight companions

were out in front with their Winchesters when the officers bore down on

them.

"Go round the house, Lon, and come in from behind. I'll 'tend to them

on this side," said McDonald as they dashed up.

This maneuver was immediately put into action and in less than a

minute later the deputies were on the spot, their game between them. In

another instant both deputies had slid from their horses and were in

the midst of the confused, half awake outlaws.

"Drop them guns! Drop 'em, and put up your hands!" commanded

McDonald--his own gun and Burson's leveled.

There was not even an attempt at resistance. The bandits were simply

dazed, overwhelmed by the suddenness and vigor of the onslaught.

Heretofore, attacks--always made by a posse--had begun with scouting

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and skirmish and ended with a running fight, usually at long range.

The plan of two mere deputies coming straight upon them and demanding

sudden and complete surrender was wholly new. As before remarked, there

was something about it terribly convincing--almost supernatural.

McDonald kept the men covered, now, while Burson secured their weapons.

Then, hand-cuffed and shackled, they were marched to the big hack,

crowded into it and driven fifty miles to Higgins; thence by rail to

the United States Commissioner at Wichita Falls.

McDonald, as usual, was sociable enough with his prisoners, once

secure, and delivered to them his customary homily, as they drove along.

"I just want to show you fellows, up here, how easy it is to take

you," he said affably. "You-all have got the notion that you can run

this country your own way, and that there ain't any officers that can

come up here and make you behave. Now, you-all are mightily mistaken.

I'm going to put every one of you fellows in jail and a lot more like

you. You know well enough it ain't right to act like you-all have been

doing--driving off other men's cattle and robbing trains and shooting

men that you had the drop on. You might know you'd get into trouble.

The United States has made laws against such business as that, and them

laws cover this country the same as anywhere else and every one of your

kind up in here is going to find it out."

88
The gang was landed safely in Wichita Falls. Some of them were

eventually convicted; the rest either became better citizens or sought

quieter territory for their industries. The cleaning up of No-man's

Land had begun.

The work of active reform was not allowed to languish. News of the

first successful raid traveled quickly, and State Senator Temple

Houston--son of Governor Sam Houston--notified McDonald that the

Sheriff of Hansford County was in need of assistance to cope with a bad

gang which had a rendezvous just across the border from Hansford, in

No-man's Land. These bandits had been carrying on the usual business of

horse and cattle stealing, and general highway robbery. Unlike some of

the officials, the sheriff of Hansford, though not noted for reckless

bravery, was in no way in league with the thieves and desired only

their extermination. His jurisdiction, however, extended no farther

than the Texas line, and thus far no State or federal officer had

rendered any assistance. As a result, the band, becoming very bold, had

pitched their camp just over the line, and had defied arrest, declaring

they would shoot the first man that stepped across.

When Bill McDonald got the word from Senator Houston, he immediately

sent over for Lon Burson and then proceeded to Canadian, Hemhill

County, where Houston lived. Here they learned more fully what work

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was cut out for them, and presently continued their journey over into

Hansford, where, from the sheriff, they secured the names of the

offenders, as far as possible, and a partial list of their misdeeds.

Complaints were now filed against six men, the usual commodious hack

was secured; also, a light buggy for possible side excursions, and

McDonald and Burson, accompanied by the sheriff as a guide, drove

through the gray of early morning, to the line which divided Hansford

County from No-man's Land.

Arriving at the border, the sheriff pointed out where the robber den--a

log building--was located, not more than eight hundred yards beyond.

Then he said he would wait there until they got back.

"Come right along with us," said McDonald, "we need you to identify the

men."

But the officer said. "No," that the men knew him, and it might alarm

them if they saw him coming. Besides, he had no authority over there.

"Never mind that," urged McDonald, "I'll risk the consequences, and

I'll make you one of a deputy's posse, which fixes your authority all

right."

But the sheriff still said "No," that he didn't care for any more

90
authority than he had--that anything new in that line might make him

proud. He said he thought he would enjoy sitting there in the hack

where he would have a good view of what happened to them when they

tackled that outfit.

McDonald and Burson, therefore, set out in the light buggy, driving

leisurely across the intervening space. Arriving near the log-house,

they discovered that five men were up, and sitting sleepily on the

ground in front of their cabin, their Winchesters leaning against the

wall behind them. Evidently they did not look for any attack, and even

when they saw the approaching buggy, their wits were not sufficiently

collected to suspect that these might be officers; nor could they

realize that any two men in a buggy would drive over to attempt their

capture. In another instant they were covered.

"Get up from there and throw up your hands!" was the word of greeting

they received. "And don't try to touch them guns. The first man that

tries it I'll kill him."

The five men rose--it was polite to do so--also, they refrained from

offering any discourtesy in the matter of the guns. McDonald now called

the roll of the names he wanted, and curious as it may seem, each man

answered to his name. One man of the six wanted, being missing, the

officers proceeded to hand-cuff and shackle the five captured men,

91
and marched them back to the hack, where the sheriff of Hansford was

waiting.

Of course the sheriff didn't believe it was true. He had had such

dreams before and thought he would wake up, presently, at home, in bed.

When he convinced himself at last that he was not asleep, he offered

to aid in the search for the sixth man. He was well acquainted with

the Territory trails, and McDonald decided to send Burson to Hansford

with the hack-load and to proceed with the buggy and the sheriff after

Number Six of the gang who, it appeared, had a place of his own some

twenty miles away.

Number Six was out looking after his cattle--about thirty in

number--the result of industry--when McDonald and the sheriff of

Hansford arrived, and not expecting official guests, was unprepared.

He had, in fact, "no more gun than a rabbit," as Deputy Bill said

afterward, and his capture was child's play. That night the gang

complete set out for Wichita Falls, to be tried later in the United

States Court at Dallas.

Raids followed each other rapidly. One gang of cattle thieves after

another was gathered in, and took up the march for Dallas and trial.

Outlawing in No-man's Land became an unpopular occupation. Men of more

legitimate enterprise began to wonder if the time was not coming, by

92
and by, when they could do business on or within the borders of that

territory without the protection of a company of soldiers. The fame of

Bill McDonald was on every man's tongue, and those who had not seen

him, especially the outlaws still at large, usually conceived him to

be a very terrible person: large, bushy, heavy of voice and fierce of

mien. Yet he was just the opposite of all these things. He was slender,

quiet, blue-eyed, and gentle of voice--only, he had that gift of

command--that look, and that manner of speech with law-breakers which

they did not disobey. The time came presently in No-man's Land when his

name alone and a rumor that he was coming was sufficient to cause a

gang to contemplate emigration. Perhaps they believed he bore a charmed

life, and it was useless to resist him. If so, they were hardly to be

blamed for such a conviction.

XII

Some of the Difficulties of Reform

"FRONTIER" LAW AND PRACTICE. CAUGHT IN A NORTHER IN NO-

MAN'S LAND

93
It is neither necessary nor possible to give a full history of all the

raids that during the brief period of little more than a year broke up

organized lawlessness in that stray corner of the nation and redeemed

an abandoned land. The general plan was the same in all. The early

morning hour; the hack and the Winchester; the surprise attack, and

the pleasant drive home with the guests duly hand-cuffed and shackled;

these were features common to each episode. Though conducted against

desperate men, it was a bloodless warfare. Nobody was killed--scarcely

a gun was fired. Bill McDonald's career was not to be always like that.

There was to be shooting enough and blood-letting too, but the No-man's

Land campaign was peculiar in the absence of these customary attributes

of border warfare.

Yet there are one or two aspects of the happenings of that period which

may not be overlooked here. As before suggested, the administrators of

the law were not always to be relied upon. Some of them were actually

in league with the law-breakers; others were honest enough, but afraid

of them. But there was still another sort, who being both honest and

courageous lacked information. Sometimes this resulted in curious

complications which were annoying and discouraging to an officer.

Often, the results were rather humorous in their nature. The following

is an illustration of frontier jurisprudence.

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McDonald had heard of a cow thief in No-man's Land who was working

on his own hook--a sporadic case, as one might say--and went over to

arrest him. He descended upon him in an unexpected moment, and though

the outlaw strenuously protested that it being Sunday the law of arrest

did not hold good, Deputy Bill conveyed him across the border and down

into Roberts County where the cattle had been stolen and where there

was a justice of the peace--it being hardly worth while to take a

single prisoner to Wichita Falls. McDonald's idea was that the justice

would have authority to bind his prisoner over until such time as the

grand jury of that district should meet and indict him in regular form.

Now, Roberts County was a wild desolate place in those days. There was

no town anywhere about, and few people. There had been no previous call

for administration of the law of any sort, and up to that time no case

had come before this justice of the peace. On the arrival of McDonald

with his prisoner, his honor convened court with a sort of a helpless

look. His office was merely a title, so far as he was concerned, and

the wide realm of the law was to him an unexplored country. He had a

copy of the "Revised Statutes," however, which he now took down and

examined, perhaps for the first time. With McDonald's help he found

the section which related to cattle stealing, and the penalty. Regular

procedure, with indictments and trial by jury were as nothing to him.

He only knew that he had been elected to his office, and that his duty

was to administer the law as laid down. He read the law as pointed out,

95
and assumed a judicial severity.

"You own up that you stole them cattle?" he said to the prisoner.

The prisoner nodded.

"Then as justice of the peace of this county I hereby send you to the

penitentiary for ten years."

McDonald gasped.

"Judge," he said, "I don't believe that's quite regular."

"Why; ain't that the law?"

"Well, yes, but you see he's entitled to trial, an' mebbe it would be

just as well to bind him over under a good heavy bond, and if he can't

raise it send him to jail over in Canadian until the grand jury meets.

Of course I only mention that as being the usual way of doing things."

The justice looked a little disappointed.

"Why, yes, of course, if you want it that way," he said, "but the man's

guilty and I thought you'd like to put the thing through as quick and

96
easy as possible, and save expense. Oh, well, any way to suit you.

I'll make his bond heavy enough, anyway." He paused to think, perhaps

trying to imagine a sum large enough for a man who had plead guilty

to the heinous crime of cattle stealing. "I'll put him under a heavy

bond--a _good heavy bond_--I'll make it three hundred dollars!"

It will be seen that an official who was given to inspirations such as

these could become a trial, even with the best intentions in the world;

and there were others who added arrogance to their ignorance, and

connivance at crime. Nor were the raids into No-man's Land altogether

pleasure excursions even though Deputies Bill McDonald and Lon Burson,

with their headlong tactics and general disregard of death, had things

pretty much their own way when it came to the final show-down. There

were long wearying journeys in a trailless land and long night vigils

when bone and muscle and nerve were racked and the whole body cried

out for sleep. The onset might be swift and reckless, once begun, but

the preparation for that moment was cautious and slow and often beset

with difficulties. The few dwellers in No-man's Land really desirous

of getting rid of the outlaws, were afraid to reveal their anxiety, to

give anything resembling information, or even to offer shelter to the

officers. They knew that to manifest any interest on the side of law

and order would incur the enmity of the gangs and bring down reprisal

swift and bloody. McDonald and Burson realized this, and, however

severe the conditions of weather and weariness, faced them, rather than

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impose any risk upon men whose only offense was to dwell among very bad

neighbors.

At one time the deputies were after a gang of five men, wanted for

murder and theft, and were driving from Higgins into No-man's Land,

with hack and team, their saddles loaded in behind, as usual. It

was late in the year, now, and suddenly in the swift Texas fashion

a norther came down, with piercing wind and fine driving snow. If

the reader has never seen a Texas norther, or a Dakota blizzard, he

will hardly understand their predicament. The wind leaps up in a wild

gale almost in an instant; the air from being balmy takes on a sudden

bitterness that wrings the body and numbs the heart and pinches the

very soul. Then the snow comes, fine and blinding--sharp and hard as

glass. No living being was ever created that could survive long in the

face of a storm like that. Cattle know when a norther is coming and

find shelter in canyons, or gather into thick bunches in the open,

their heads to the center. Birds speed away to the south, ahead of it,

or find shelter in hollows and crannies until the demon has passed by.

A storm like that always means death. The Texas norther and the Dakota

blizzard have strewn the prairies with bones.

McDonald and Burson in the face of such a tempest tried to press on,

hoping to find a shelter of some sort--anything that would break the

terrible wind. But everywhere was only the wide prairie, level as the

98
sea and lost now in the swirling drift. Night was coming on rapidly,

and unless a place for camp was found soon, their case would be

hopeless, indeed. It seemed to them that they had drifted for hours,

battling against the norther--though it probably was less than one

hour--when they came upon some stacks of prairie hay, which indicated

the habitation of men. Without seeking further, they made for the

shelter of the stacks, burrowed themselves and their horses into them,

allowing the latter to feed liberally from the hay. There they remained

all night and until the afternoon of the next day, the men without

food. The storm abated then, and the officers undiscouraged, pressed

on, reaching the outlaw camp late in the afternoon, instead of at their

favorite morning hour.

The surprise was quite as complete, however, for the last thing that

those bandits expected was that two officers should suddenly appear

out of that white devastation to take them to jail. They were too much

astonished to attempt resistance and were on their way to Wichita Falls

that night, following the road which earlier in the year so many of

their kind had taken.

Indeed it was this capture at the end of 1888 that marked about the

close of the heaviest work in that particular section. The year's

crusade had demonstrated that No-man's Land was not big enough to

hold a band of cow thieves and two deputies like Bill McDonald and

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Lon Burson at the same time. It was no encouragement to a band of

hard-working outlaws, just as they had got their plant established and

things well under way to be suddenly pounced down upon and put out

of business by two men who had no regard for the customary rules of

fighting, but just rushed right in with a lot of impertinent orders and

an assortment of hand-cuffs and always had a big hack ready to start at

a moment's notice for Wichita Falls.

"What is the use?" one of the freebooters is said to have complained,

"A fellow no more than gets started when these dam' fools come in and

upset everything."

What _was_ the use? Such of the No-man's Land fraternity as still

remained unhung and out of jail set out for other fields of labor. Some

of them located in the more barren districts of New Mexico and Arizona.

Some of them settled in the further places of what was then known as

the Cherokee Strip, where they joined with congenial spirits in that

territory, and pretending to be engaged in agriculture--for they were

in a more settled country--Indian country--continued their old business

at the new stand. These we shall meet again presently, for if they had

said good-by to Bill McDonald, he had not said good-by to them. It

would require new tactics to deal with the new conditions--to identify

the outlaw in the pretended agriculturist, and to get evidence for his

conviction. It would require the development of another talent in Bill

100
McDonald's make-up, and that talent was ready for cultivation, as we

shall see.

XIII

Captain Bill as a Tree-man

THE LOST DROVE OF LAZARUS. A PILGRIM ON A "PAINT HOSS". A NEW

WAY OF

GETTING INFORMATION IN THE "STRIP"

Meanwhile, the ranch on Wanderer's Creek had suffered. Compelled to be

absent most of the time, McDonald was unable to give his herd personal

protection, and now and again bunches of his cattle were driven off

by outlaws from across the border. His brave wife, facing the problem

of the wilderness with only a few hired helpers, did her best, but

was not always able to prevent these raids. The thieves would seem to

have taken especial delight in watching for the times when Deputy Bill

was absent and then descending on his herds, mainly for the booty, no

101
doubt, but also by way of retaliation. It was a dangerous thing for

them to do, and though they were certain to pay for it in the end; the

double temptation of profit and revenge was not to be resisted.

But while the ranch did not prosper, its owner was in no immediate

danger of bankruptcy. With his success in breaking up the gangs in

Hardeman and adjoining counties, and in No-man's Land, McDonald's fame

had grown amazingly. As a thief-taker he was regarded as a past-master.

That an outlaw could neither intimidate nor elude him, and that when he

was feeling well he could whip any number of them single-handed, before

breakfast, was the current belief. The Cattle-men's Association--a

combination of law abiding ranchmen, one of the strongest organizations

ever known--invited his special attention to their herds and

contributed a monthly acknowledgement of one hundred and fifty dollars,

which with his numerous fees made his income an ample one--often as

large as five hundred dollars a month--sometimes double this amount.

Among the members of the association was Sam Lazarus, who was with Bull

Turner when he was shot by the Brookens, and who came into town on the

whiffletrees, undamaged, but a good deal shaken up as to nerves. Soon

after McDonald's arrangement with the cattlemen, Lazarus was sending a

herd of perhaps a thousand head into Kansas, driving them across the

Territory. Pat Wolforth, whose name may also be recalled in connection

with the Brookens, was in charge of this herd, and when just beyond the

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Territory line, in a very lonely district, met with misfortune. One

evening near nightfall the cattle suddenly became frightened, doubtless

through some device of the outlaws, and Wolforth and his men found it

impossible to control them. A general stampede followed and Lazarus's

cattle were scattered over the prairies and through the fastnesses of

the Strip--a prey to the spoilers lying in wait on every hand. It was

a heavy disaster and there seemed little hope of much in the way of

recovery. The spring round-up might gather in a few stragglers, but for

the most part the herds of Lazarus were believed to be beyond all hope

of restoration.

Bill McDonald took no such view of the situation. With Pat Wolforth

he immediately visited the scene of the stampede, and began looking

for cattle with the "Diamond-tail" brand, such being the symbol of

the Lazarus herd. It was a ticklish undertaking. Some of the cattle

had been butchered, and these of course were lost. Others had been

absorbed by the herds of men who though not regularly engaged in cow

stealing were in nowise particular as to whose cows they got and

welcomed anything that browsed unguarded on the range. Still others had

been collected in "pockets"--small gullies or canyons--where they were

retired from general circulation, guarded, as a rule, by one or two

ostensible cowboys.

McDonald began by prevailing upon the honest ranchmen in that section

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to join at once in a general round-up by which means a great number of

cattle could be collected and distributed to their rightful owners.

The result was fairly satisfactory and a good many of Lazarus's cattle

were recovered, though not always without disputes and a display of

fire-arms, especially where the brands had been grown over by the long

winter-coat of hair. Such cases were settled first and tried afterward.

In other words, McDonald and Wolforth possessed themselves of the

cattle and then at their leisure "picked the brand," which is the range

idiom for picking the hair from around the brand with a pocket-knife,

so the brand may be seen. If the brand proved to be other than that of

the Lazarus herd, the cattle were turned over to their true owners.

When the round-up was over the cow-hunters took up the search in other

directions.

It mattered little to McDonald and Wolforth where they found the

Diamond-tail brand--they took the cattle, peaceably if possible,

forcibly if necessary. They conducted the campaign with an enthusiasm

and vigor which did not invite argument. Large herds they searched

without ceremony and if any cattle of their brand were found, they were

"cut out" with few formalities and with scant courtesy. When they came

upon bunches of the Diamond-tail brand in secluded places, they did not

pause to present any credentials except their Winchesters which they

carried always ready for instant action, and set out at once with the

cattle; also, sometimes, with the astonished cowboys as well. It was

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a sudden and energetic procedure and resulted in the recovery of the

greater number of the lost drove of Lazarus.

It resulted further in a definite plan by Bill McDonald for the

discouragement of cattle stealing in the Territory, and for the

capture of the most actively engaged in that industry. As set down

in a foregoing chapter, the outlaws in the Cherokee Strip were not

likely to be congregated in a single rendezvous, as had been the case

in No-man's Land, but were scattered as individual squatters through

neighborhoods more or less friendly to their business, or at least not

bold enough openly to oppose it. Indeed, the back country was very

sparsely settled, and the Indians and half-breed whites and negroes

were not especially interested in law and order, even where they were

not directly concerned in opposing these things. Along the rivers--the

Cimmaron, the Canadian, the Washita and the North Fork of the Red

River, the country was rugged, and the hiding places for plunder were

good. The prairies were nice and level with fine land and plentiful

grass. White men had no legal right of residence there, except where

they were intermarried with the Indians, and those who acquired

citizenship in this manner were not likely to be any more desirable

than those others whose occupation was itself an infringement on the

law.

"Did they raise anything there, Bill?" McDonald was asked in discussing

105
the conditions, long afterward.

"Just raised hell!" the old Ranger answered drily.

Nearly all, however, made a pretense of agricultural employments; for

after all, the country, unlike No-man's Land, was really under a

regular form of government; legitimate settlement was considerable, and

there was a semblance, at least, of law and order. Also, there were

towns of considerable size, and railroads--the latter affording liberal

returns now and then when some train was waited upon in a lonely place

and the express messengers, mail agents and passengers were invited at

the point of six-shooters to contribute to a highway development fund.

The writer of these chapters was himself a resident of Kansas during

this earlier period, and he recalls now what an uninteresting month it

was when an M.K. & T. or Santa Fe or Rock Island train did not come up

out of the Territory with passengers telegraphing home for money and

the express and mail cars full of bullet holes.

Bill McDonald decided to break up this sort of thing, and set about

it in a way suggested by his own peculiar genius. It was necessary

first to identify the men who were really concerned in these various

employments, for in a country where all were "settlers," even if

unofficial ones, it was not worth while working at hap-hazard

and bothering men whose only offense might be that of squatting.

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Investigation must be conducted openly and yet in a way to avoid

suspicion. His gentle manner and seemingly inoffensive personality

suited him for just such an undertaking, and he prepared and "made up"

carefully for the part.

Returning to Quanah and Wanderer's Creek, he bought a "paint horse"

(a spotted pony); an old tenderfoot saddle, such as a plainsman would

never use, and a book with pretty pictures of fruit in it--a regular

nurseryman's plate-book--the kind of a book fruit-tree salesmen always

carry. Then dressed as unlike an officer, or a cow-man, or a Texan

as possible, with these properties he set out--to all appearances

a genial, garrulous, easy-going tree-man, inviting orders and

confidences--willing to sit around all day and whittle and swap knives

and yarns, and to express any kind of interest or sympathy necessary

to encourage a man to tell his business ventures and those of his

neighbors.

It was a pleasant excursion, enough. No fruit-tree man had been through

that section before--none ever had dared, or perhaps thought it worth

while, to go. McDonald's excursion proved that profit awaited the

seller of trees who should first make that wilderness his territory.

He had expected not much in the way of sales, for he did not imagine

that men engaged in driving off and slaughtering other men's cattle,

and in waylaying trains and robbing banks would have any special taste

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for horticulture. This was an error of judgment. Most of these bad

men had been fairly good boys at home at some time in the past, and

the sight of those luminous plates presenting fruit of extravagant

size and coloring, made their mouths fairly water at the thought of

its cultivation by the doorway of their own dug-outs or sod houses

or log cabins. They turned the pages lovingly, and lingered over

the wonderful plums and pears and peaches, and as they turned they

talked and somehow almost without realizing it they told a great

many things about themselves and neighbors which no well-trained and

properly constructed outlaw should tell, even to a sympathetic and

simple-hearted fruit-tree man who wrote down the orders and listened

and chuckled at some of the yarns, while he encouraged further

confidences.

He would drift around presently to his customer's former place of

residence, and to the reason for his leaving. It was easy enough for an

alert tree-man to detect a lack of complete frankness in the replies,

especially if the reason had "something about a cow or horse" in it,

that being the usual first admission that the isolation of the Strip

had been found congenial for other reasons than those connected with

its soil and climate. The tree-man did not hesitate to give a generous

return for any such confidences, inventing on the spot some of his

own for the purpose. The number and character of crimes he confessed

to having been accused of in the States would be worth recording in

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this history if they could be remembered now. But, alas, like other

gay bubbles, they were blown only to charm for the moment, and once

vanished cannot be recalled. The tree-man would then fall to abusing

laws in general and the men who enforced them, and end by declaring

that he was mightily in love with that particular section and would

stay where there was little or no chance of meeting any of those

obnoxious officials, if the boys would consider him one of them and all

stand together in time of trouble. Talk like this would open the door

for anything. The rest of the interview was likely to run something as

follows:

Picture: Two men seated on a log, or down on the grass cowboy style, in

front of a dug-out; one the slim, mild-looking tree-man; the other a

burly person, very dirty, hairy and unkempt, bent over a large book of

gay pictures which the tree-man leans forward to explain. Nearby, two

horses are grazing, the "paint-hoss" with the old tenderfoot saddle and

saddle-bags; the other a very good looking animal, often saddled and

bridled for prompt use.

"By gum," nods the big burly individual, staring at a picture of such

peaches as grow only in paradise, "eating peaches like them would be

like holdin' up the Santa Fe express."

"That's what," assents the salesman gayly, "regular picnic all the

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time. I s'pose you fellers in here have money to throw at the birds

after that kind of a job."

"Well, not so much after all. Too many have to have a piece out of it.

Everybody wants to help. It has to be a pretty big basket of money to

cut in two more'n twice and leave enough to pay."

The salesman shows a sympathetic interest.

"Of course," he agrees, "it's too bad to spoil a good bunch of money

by making little piles of it. I guess you have to have a good many

though for a job like that."

"No, two _can_ do it, an' there ain't no need of more'n three. One to

take care of the engineer, another to pull down on the passengers and

the other man to go through 'em. It's plum easy. They give up like

sinners at a camp-meetin', and the messengers and mail fellers come

down pretty easy, too. If they don't we put a few shots through their

cars and that fetches 'em."

"But you had to kill the messenger in that Rock Island job, last fall."

"Well, I wasn't in that mess--that was another outfit. Them boys are

huntin' trouble and 'll find it some day, good an' plenty. When I put a

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job through, the' ain't nobody going to get killed unless they commit

reg'lar suicide. You ought to come down here an' go in with _me_.

You've got a persuadin' way about you that would make a man give up

anything he had and thank you for takin' it. It 'ud pay yeh better,

I reckon, than ridin' a paint-hoss over the country, peddlin' trees.

That reminds me--you c'n give me six o' them peaches, an' a few o' them

pears an' plums an' a couple o' cherry-trees and some grape-vines--the

big yaller ones--Niagaries, I think you said they was."

And this was the drift of more than one conversation between the

Cherokee agriculturists and the genial tree-man who certainly did have

a "persuadin' way" in making a man give up anything he had, in the

way of information. No one could dream that this inoffensive mild-eyed

pilgrim on a paint-hoss could ever make trouble in that wilderness of

lawless living and of desperate men.

So for several weeks the tree-man on his paint-horse with his old

tenderfoot saddle and his picture-book loitered up through the Strip

and on over into the Territory, on the surface taking orders for spring

delivery, and beneath it all locating the different communities of

offenders; the individuals of the same; stolen cattle and horses, and

securing data of particular crimes. He ended his canvass at Guthrie, a

busy frontier point on the Santa Fe, with twenty-five hundred dollars

worth of orders for trees--trees which might be bearing to this day if

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the spring deliveries had been made as planned.

XIV

The Day for "Deliveries"

THE TREE-MAN TURNS OFFICER AND SINGLE-HANDED WIPES OUT A

BAD GANG

But McDonald was ready now for deliveries of a different

sort--deliveries of the purchasers themselves, into the hands of the

law. As a preliminary step he swore out warrants for eight men--the

chief operators in a very bad community located along a small creek

between Guthrie and Kingfisher--about fifteen miles west of the latter.

He then went with his warrants to a deputy marshal at Guthrie and

invited his co-operation in making the arrests. The Guthrie deputy

looked at him with curiosity, wondering perhaps if this circuit-riding

Texas person was in his right mind. Clearly the fame of Bill McDonald

had not yet penetrated into darkest Oklahoma. Then, when he had looked

over Bill Jess's credentials, and perhaps felt his pulse, he said:

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"If you can get a company of soldiers to go along I might undertake

that job with you. You don't know that Sand Creek crowd--I do. No two

men nor ten men could go up against that outfit and get back alive.

Bring a company of regulars over here, if you want to undertake that

campaign."

McDonald argued, and related what he had done in No-man's Land, but to

no purpose. A sudden charge might work, over there, the deputy said,

where the gangs were bunched, and were surprised before they were

awake enough to fight. But it was different over here. The bad men

were scattered a mile or so apart and while you might get the drop on

one, there'd be a lot more left to get the drop on you, and you'd be

full of lead before sunrise. No-siree, nothing less than soldiers, and

plenty of them, would do that job.

McDonald went about the town trying to enlist volunteers. He realized

that a scattered gang would require time to corral, and that its

members would be likely to be awake and busy, before he got them all

in. He did not want a company of soldiers, for such a force would scare

the gang and accomplish nothing; but he did want a few quick fearless

men for this work. Finally he wired U.S. Marshal Walker at Topeka,

Kansas, to come on first train. Walker came, and McDonald explained the

situation.

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"I've got these men located, and warrants for their arrest," he said,

"and now I can't get your deputies or anybody else to give me a hand on

the job. It ain't just the sort of a thing I want to do alone, for we

ought to get to several of these men's houses simultaneous like, an' I

thought you might be able to persuade these boys to come along."

"Certainly," said Walker, "that's all right--they don't know who you

are. I'm satisfied from what U.S. Marshal Knight, of Dallas, has

written me that you know what you want to do, and how to go at it. I'll

get the men together and explain the situation."

They collected about a dozen deputies and posse-men, and Walker

explained as agreed. It was no use. The men declared that no small

force could go into the Sand Creek neighborhood and come out alive,

and nothing short of a squad of trained soldiers would be of any use.

McDonald looked them over scornfully. Then he turned to Walker.

"If I had as sorry a lot of men as that," he said, "I'd discharge them

on the spot. I'll go out there alone, if I can get a man with nerve

enough to drive a hack, and I'll bring back a load of criminals, too."

This was regarded as a bluff. Walker returned to Topeka, and Bill

McDonald's fruit-tree expedition began to look like a failure.

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McDonald, however, was not the sort of a person to whom the words

"bluff" and "failure" were likely to apply. He discovered a man

presently who agreed to drive a hack, provided he would be asked to do

no fighting, and would be allowed to remain out of range.

"If you ever get 'em to the hack and tied, I'll haul 'em," he said,

but it was clear that he expected to haul home a dead deputy marshal,

instead.

They set out long before daybreak, next morning, with a big

three-seater--McDonald with an extra horse--and drove to the home of

what was considered the most desperate of the Sand Creek gang--a very

hard looking customer who lived with his wife in a dug-out in a small

clearing. When they had arrived within about two hundred yards of the

place, the driver declared that he was satisfied with his position

and did not think it necessary by the terms of his contract to go any

closer. It was full early, barely daybreak, and everything was very

still. McDonald lost no time, therefore, for a whinny of the horses

might rouse the occupants of the dug-out, and with his Winchester

cocked stepped across the little clearing and without ceremony pushed

open the door. As he did so a woman stepped directly in front of him,

calling out a warning to some one behind her. In the dimness of the

place McDonald saw a man on a bed in the corner reaching for a gun

which lay on the mattress near him. It was no time for manners. With a

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quick sweep of his gun the officer pushed the woman aside and covered

the man on the bed, before he could bring his weapon to bear.

"Drop it," he said. "Drop it or you're a dead man!"

There was no mistaking the sincerity of that order. The mild fruit-tree

peddler, was merged completely into the resolute officer with eyes of

steel and a crisp voice that uttered words of unmistakable meaning. The

gun fell upon the bed. McDonald stepped forward and slipping hand-cuffs

on his prisoner, ordered him to start for the hack and to make no

suspicious movements. Arriving at the awaiting vehicle he invited him

to step in and be shackled.

"First delivery," he said to the astonished driver. "We'll go on now

and make the rest."

The next hut was perhaps a mile further along, and the sun was getting

up when they arrived. As they approached, they saw the occupant

standing in the doorway. He saw them about the same time, and suspected

trouble. His horse was hitched to a mesquite tree, and making for it he

mounted and fled. McDonald was mounted also and gave chase. The race

continued for perhaps half a mile when the officer realized that his

man had the better horse and would presently get into the brakes and

escape. He dismounted quickly, therefore, and taking careful aim began

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to shoot at the ground near the flying horse in such a manner that the

bullet striking the earth would go singing by, very close to the ears

of the fugitive. He had long since discovered that a bullet singing

in that way, close to a man's ears has an impressive and convincing

sound. A man hearing a bullet sing by like that would be willing to bet

any reasonable sum that the next one would hit him, especially when

the command, "Halt! or I'll get you, next time," came with it. With

the second shot the disturbed rider brought his horse up suddenly,

dismounted and made motions of surrender. McDonald signaled him to

approach, still keeping him covered. He came up in good order, and was

marched toward the hack, the driver of which headed in that direction,

now that the danger was over.

It was thought that the sound of the shooting might have aroused

the neighborhood by this time, and the thief-hunters worked more

cautiously. There was no need, however. Gun-fire was of too frequent

occurrence to create alarm in that locality, and the sense of immunity

from the law had become too chronic to be lightly disturbed. The

desperadoes had been left unmolested so long that they had become

established in their security and careless of intrusion. Two men were

at breakfast at the next place, and deputy Bill's Winchester covered

them before they fairly realized that they had a morning visitor. These

two were hand-cuffed together and marched to the hack. The driver by

this time had picked up a good deal of courage and remained only a few

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yards behind. As for the outlaws, they were inclined to be sociable,

and with the true Western American spirit discerned a certain humor in

the situation.

"Hello, Jim, you been buying fruit trees too?" was the greeting of one

of the men already loaded as the hand-cuffed pair came in. "What did

you get, peaches or pears?"

"You go to hell, will you? You'll get a tree with a rope on it before

you get out of this mess."

"That's all right--you must have bought sour grapes, I reckon, the way

you talk."

"No, his got frost-bit. They'll be all right in the spring. My apples

got a little case of dry-rot, too. I wonder how Buck Dillon 'll like

them blue plums o' his'n."

McDonald, always good-natured with his prisoners, joined in the

bantering.

"I'm delivering," he said, "I brought in a nice pair, this time," as

he loaded his double capture into the hack. Truly no situation can

entirely destroy the breezy Western point of view.

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The next house lay across quite a stretch of prairie and the hack and

its contents were discovered before the approach was near enough for

effective action. McDonald on horseback immediately charged, but the

outlaw suspected the nature of his visitor and mounting his horse raced

away, emptying his six-shooter at his pursuer. Riding, and shooting

backward disturbed his aim and his bullets flew wild. McDonald also

began shooting, to bring him to a halt, not to kill. As the outlaw

uncased his Winchester, however, the officer decided that it was time

to bring matters to a focus. Dropping to the ground he knelt and set

some bullets singing close to the ear of the fugitive. At first this

only had the effect of making him sink his spurs into the pony, but at

the third crack of the gun and just as Deputy Bill was taking careful

aim for a shot that would be likely to save the cost of prosecution the

rider dropped his gun back into the scabbard, and leaped to the ground.

"Well, you've got me," he called as he came up.

"Hello, Joe, what you been buyin'? Prickly pears I reckon," was the

greeting from the hack as he came nearer--the latter half of the remark

due to a trickle of blood on the man's ear where the last bullet had

sung its warning song a trifle too close.

"Must a struck a stone and glanced a little," commented Bill Jess as

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he looked at it. "I aim to make 'em miss just about three inches.

They sing nicer when they don't really hit. That either glanced off

of a stone or else it's mighty sorry shooting. Dad-slap it, that

sorter makes me ashamed of myself. Oh, well, get in an' make yourself

comfortable. I want to get along."

The boy who had been "born with a gun in his hand" as we say, and could

pick cherries with a rifle was humiliated by anything that resembled

bad marksmanship. Still, it was good enough under the circumstances,

and was justified by the result.

That was a busy day. His favorite hour for working (daybreak) was over,

now, but matters were going too well to knock off on that account.

There were at least three more of this gang, and he would get as many

as he could.

He got them all in fact, and one extra--a bad man who happened to be

visiting his brother at a bad time. The houses being a good way apart,

and the work being done rapidly and with such system and neatness, the

alarm had no time to spread. Deputy Bill knew the exact location of

each house and of course used more caution in making the approaches

as the day advanced. He stalked his game like the true hunter that he

was, creeping up unnoticed until he had it covered, keeping the hack

well out of view, though by this time the driver had lost all concern,

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except that of eagerness to see the fun, and was disappointed as were

the captured fruit-tree buyers when kept out of view.

The hack went into Kingfisher next morning with every seat full and the

driver sitting on the knees of two prisoners. The Sand Creek gang--one

of the toughest gangs in the Territory--in the space of a single day

and by a single man had been retired from active business.

From Kingfisher, their captor wired U.S. Marshal Walker at Topeka

that he had his men and would proceed with them to Wichita, Kansas,

as soon as he had rested a little. Within a few days the men were

being distributed to the various points where they were wanted for an

assortment of crimes. When McDonald and his driver returned to Guthrie,

the men he had invited to assist had a downcast look. They had heard

the news of the Sand Creek gang. They had heard also from Mr. Walker.

Their excuses were many and various, and to a man they offered to join

the next expedition.

"No," said Bill Jess, drily, "you fellows are a little too slow. My

deliveries in this section are all made."

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XV

Cleaning up the Strip

DEPUTY BILL GETS "STOOD OFF," BUT MAKES GOOD. BILL COOK AND
"SKEETER."

"A HELL OF A COURT TO PLEAD GUILTY IN"

The Cherokee Strip campaign was not allowed to languish. An outlaw

community about twenty-five miles north of Kingfisher, and seven miles

west of Hennessey, on Turkey Creek, was raided next. In the course of

his tree selling, McDonald had fallen in with a man who was peddling

stolen beef. He had learned that this man was operating for the Turkey

Creek gang, and that the beef he was selling was really the property of

the Cherokee Strip Livestock Association, which, it may be mentioned,

at that time had a lease on the Cherokee grazing lands for which they

paid an annual rental of one hundred thousand dollars.

McDonald now went over to Kingfisher and established headquarters;

took the beef peddler to Wichita, Kansas, put him in jail, and got on

friendly terms with him. Then he gave his prisoner some good fatherly

advice about bad company and the usual rewards of becoming the tool

of lawless men. The result was a general confession and turning

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of State's evidence. The peddler of beef lodged information as to

the identity of his employers; the exact nature of their business;

the hiding place of their stolen cattle, and the locality of a deep

water-hole where they had sunk the hides in order to get rid of the

brands and ear-marks. McDonald returned to Kingfisher, next morning,

swore out warrants for the men named, and with a deputy marshal, who

declared himself willing to go, set out for Turkey Creek. They went

in a hack as usual and arrived before daylight at the house of one

Charlie Tex, where they thought it likely they might find most of the

men wanted. When they entered, however, they found only a man in bed,

who declared he had just arrived in that country; that there was nobody

at home, and that he knew nothing of the owner's whereabouts. They took

him along, however, and proceeded to another house not far away, but

found it also empty. The officers now concluded that the men had in

some manner got wind of their coming and were hiding in the bottoms.

They followed a way down the creek, breaking through to the prairie

again, not far from the Tex house. As they did so they noticed the man

with them apparently trying to signal in that direction. Then they

became aware that several men with Winchesters were walking leisurely

along the top of the grassy hill, either unaware of the presence of the

officers, or indifferent to it.

McDonald and his associate, satisfied that these were the men wanted,

set out up the hill, briskly. Their companion discouraged this

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movement, insisting that they would all certainly be killed if they

molested that crowd. They continued to advance, however, and presently

the men with the Winchesters, without appearing to have noticed the

deputies, dropped leisurely back behind the hill-top. McDonald now

started running, straight up the hill, while his brother deputy set out

in a sort of diagonal flank movement around it. In a moment or two he

had apparently reached a place where he could see the retreating men,

for he called out:

"Hey, Mack, they're right over the hill. They'll get you sure."

McDonald was too interested to stop, now. He raced to the top of the

rise, his gun presented, ready for shooting, expecting to see the flash

of guns as he broke the sky-line. Instead, he saw the men running for

Tex's dug-out, and noticed that still another fellow was already there,

pacing about, like a picket, with a gun.

McDonald did not take time to guess at their plans, but kept straight

after them, supposing his companion-in-law was following. The men did

not pause when they reached the house, but made for a half-built log

stable, which formed a sort of pen, and leaping into it put their guns

through the spaces between the logs and yelled at McDonald to stop,

swearing they would kill him if he came any further.

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A brave man is not necessarily a rash man, and to establish bravery

it is not necessary to throw oneself in front of a moving train or to

charge alone a half-finished log stable full of outlaws who poke their

Winchesters through the cracks at you and call you names. McDonald

discovered now that his partner was not with him, or anywhere in the

neighborhood, and he concluded to stop and negotiate. One might get an

outlaw or two through the cracks, but on the whole it didn't seem the

part of wisdom to play the game in that way.

He checked his speed when he was about sixty yards from the fort,

though he continued to advance in a leisurely walk, talking

persuasively meantime.

"Now you fellers better have some sense," he said. "You're going up

against the United States law, and even if you killed me it wouldn't

make any difference. I've got a posse coming that would be right down

on you anyhow. Besides you'd have the United States army after you, and

they'd take you and hang you for murder. I only want two out of your

bunch anyway, this time; that's all I got warrants for, and maybe none

of you are the right ones. You'd better come out and let me look you

over."

The men swore they would do nothing of the sort, and if he came a step

further they would kill him.

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McDonald slackened his pace a bit--some nervous man's gun might go off

by accident. He could talk very well from where he was.

"Oh, pshaw!" he said. "You fellers wouldn't kill a kitten. Six of you

men behind breastworks to get away from one. Come out where I can look

at you. What kind of men are you, anyway?"

"Where's your partner?" called the outlaws.

"You see him, way up yonder, don't you?" Bill Jess said quaintly--"on

that hill. I haven't got a rope on him; I couldn't bring him along

unless he'd come. You-all are actin' mighty sorry the way you're doin'.

Come out of there now, and quit this foolishness."

The outlaws repeated their refusal and their warning that if he came

another step they would shoot him dead. McDonald took out his watch.

"Well, boys," he said, "if you want to make a fight you might as

well get at it. It's time for my men to be here. Your partner I got

yesterday said you'd likely try to start something, so I come fixed for

such fellows as you. Come, let's see what you can do."

McDonald waved his hand as if signaling to his companion half a mile in

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the rear and made a start toward the log fort. Before he had taken two

steps, out of it piled the six outlaws and broke "lickety brindle" for

the creek bottom, like a bunch of frightened steers. McDonald ran after

them and saw them leap on their horses that they had tethered in the

bushes and go tearing down the creek, without stopping to look behind.

Evidently they did not doubt for a moment that the deputy had a posse,

waiting nearby, for they would not be likely to believe that he had

dared to face them alone unless assistance was close at hand. Deputy

Bill, on his part was not sorry to see them go, for they had him at a

serious disadvantage, and his only backing had weakened.

His companion was at the hack when he returned. The one man they had

taken in charge had disappeared. Bill Jess made a few choice remarks

and they set out for Kingfisher by way of Hennessey.

The following night as McDonald came out of a drug-store in Kingfisher,

several shots were fired at him from the darkness. He pulled his

six-shooter immediately and emptied it at the flash of the guns,

running toward them as he did so. He heard retreating footsteps, but

did not follow, as he discovered that he had left his cartridge belt in

the hotel.

He was satisfied that the attack had been made by some of the Turkey

Creek gang of the day before, trying to get rid of him, and resolved

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to delay no further in putting them out of business. He enlisted a

man whom he knew, one Charley Meyers, and two other young men anxious

for adventure, and next morning struck the trail which led, as they

expected, in the direction of Turkey Creek. They followed it rapidly

and toward evening came upon their game. There was no parleying this

time. McDonald headed his force and they charged with a rush. Three of

the men threw down their arms and surrendered--the others fired some

scattering shots as they ran, and they must have kept on running, for

they troubled that country no more. The Turkey and Sand Creek gangs no

longer existed.[2]

It was while McDonald was at Kingfisher that he came in contact

with Bill Cook and one "Skeeter," both of whom were later to become

notorious in matters connected with the looting of banks and trains.

The deputy was making some purchases in a store one evening when Cook

attempted to ride his horse in the front door. McDonald grabbed the

animal's bridle and set him back on his haunches, and before Cook could

draw his gun--had him covered and under arrest. Immediately Cook's

"side-partner," Skeeter, came up swearing vengeance, and was also

suddenly disarmed and landed in jail. The incident closed there, but a

sort of sequel was to come along a good many years later, as we shall

see presently.

Meanwhile the work of "delivery" by the erstwhile tree-man was not

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delayed. Following the backward track he gathered up one undesirable

citizen after another, until by the end of the season he had

established official relations with no less than fifty of his former

customers, and the rest had concluded not to wait. The story of the

work of that year alone would fill a volume if fully told, but the

telling is not necessary. Having planned a campaign along special lines

it is only needful to give one or two examples of Bill McDonald's work

to see what the rest would be in that particular field. Each field of

labor was different and called for different treatment--requiring as

much genius to conceive the method as bravery and presence of mind to

carry it out. We have now seen what he accomplished in reclaiming a

land so lost that it was called No-man's Land, and in cleaning up a

strip of country infested by desperadoes supposed to be invincible.

We have seen that he could do these things with thoroughness and

despatch and with little bloodshed. The old manner of going in with a

big posse and engaging in a general fight in which men were killed on

both sides and nothing of value accomplished he had rendered obsolete.

Men politically and personally opposed to Bill McDonald have referred

to him in print and in spoken word as bloodthirsty, and a desperado.

Certainly the reader who has followed these chapters thus far will find

it hard to agree with such opinions. That he was fearless almost to the

point of rashness we may believe, but that he ever wantonly shed blood,

or, with all his opportunities, deliberately took human life will be

harder to demonstrate.

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"I never was a killer," he said once. "Some fellows seem to want to

kill, every chance they get, and in a business like mine there's plenty

of chances. But I never did want to kill a man, and I never did it when

there was any other way to take care of his case."

It may not be out of place here to refer to the method of disarming

men which McDonald used. The author has been asked how this sudden and

efficient action was performed. His reply is that it is just about

as hard to explain as those sleight-of-hand tricks which depend on

deftness and exactness of motion--the result of a natural ability

combined with long practice. Bill McDonald was born "as quick as a

cat," and disarming became his special sleight-of-hand trick. He could

locate a man's weapon and could daze and disarm him with a sudden

movement that even he himself could not convey in words, and it was

this performance that saved the lives of many men, good and bad, and

often-times his own.

It was some six years after the Kingfisher incident that McDonald was

to renew relations with the "Cook-Skeeter" outfit. He had become Ranger

Captain meantime and was engaged in some work in North Texas when he

heard of a suspicious gang, heavily armed, camped in a vacant house

in the neighborhood of Bellvue, in Clay County. Unable to go himself,

he sent his sergeant, J.L. Sullivan, his nephew, W.J. McCauley and

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another ranger named Bob McClure, to investigate. Before the Rangers

reached the house a picket discovered them and set out to give warning

to his associates. The Rangers overtook and captured him, but by this

time they had been discovered by the occupants of the shanty who began

firing through the cracks in the walls.

The Rangers promptly returned the fire and charged, shooting as they

came on. The fire became very hot, but McCauley, who had many of the

characteristics of his "Uncle Bill," kicked in the door, though the

bullets were coming through it from the other side. The outlaws now

took refuge in the loft and began shooting down through the floor, the

Rangers shooting straight up from below. The Rangers would seem to

have had the best luck in this blind warfare for one of the men above

was wounded; another had his gun shot from his hand, and a third had

his hat shot through. One of them came to the opening, presently, and

offered his six-shooter as a sign of surrender. Four were captured,

including the aforenamed "Skeeter," but Bill Cook, though a member of

the gang, was absent at the time, and escaped. The captured men were

taken to Wichita Falls and one of them, a young fellow named Turner,

turned State's evidence, through McDonald's persuasive probing, and

detailed their plan for robbing the Fort Worth and Denver, next day,

giving a list of their crimes. Skeeter and the others were taken to

the United States courts at Fort Smith for trial, and pleaded guilty.

Skeeter was given thirty years and upon hearing the verdict made his

131
now famous remark:

"Well, this is a hell of a court for a man to plead guilty in."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 2: Somewhat later when McDonald's work, as Ranger Captain,

was confined to Texas, another gang did rendezvous in this section--the

gang headed by the Dalton boys (formerly deputy marshals); and for a

period terrorized the surrounding country. Their crimes were daring and

bloody and their end was sudden and violent. They were shot, one after

another by a brave and accurate liveryman as they came out of a bank

they had been looting, in daylight, in Coffeyville, Kansas. According

to Bill Dalton two of the Daltons were United States deputy marshals

and lived near Hennessey at the time McDonald was selling trees in that

section.]

XVI

Texas Ranger Service and its Origin

132
THE MASSACRE OF FORT PARKER. CYNTHIA ANN PARKER'S CAPTURE.
RANGERS, AND

WHAT THEY ARE FOR. THEIR CHARACTERISTICS AND THEIR REQUIRE-

MENTS

The early history of Texas was written in blood and fire. Her counties

preserve the names of her martyrs. Parker, Coleman, Crockett, Fannin,

Travis, Bowie and a hundred others have the map for their monument;

their names are given daily utterance by those for whom their deeds

have little meaning.

In the beginning, after the Indian tribes--friendly at first--became

hostile, the warfare was almost solely with the savages. For a full

half century every settler who built his campfire on the frontier did

so at the risk of his property and his scalp. Those who established

homes and settlements must have been a daring race indeed, for raids

upon horses and herds were always imminent and massacres were as

regular as the seasons.

We have already mentioned in these chapters the name of Chief Quanah

Parker (still living) for whom the town of Quanah, Texas, was named.

Quanah Parker's mother was Cynthia Ann Parker, a little white girl

captured by the Tehaucano Indians, during a raid on what was known as

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the Austin Colony, in 1836. A brief story of that raid will serve as

an example of a thousand others of a similar sort. The Austin Colony

settled in what is now Grimes County,[3] and consisted of something

more than a score of persons, including women and children. The Indians

who dwelt in the neighborhood seemed friendly enough until a small

party of unknown settlers came along and attempted to steal their

horses. Immediate trouble was the result and the loss of Tehaucano

friendship for the entire settlement. When the reader considers what

follows, I believe I shall be forgiven for hoping that those newcomers

who stirred up the first trouble received the sort of a reward which

only an Indian would know how to confer.

As the Austin Colony consisted chiefly of the Parker family, a rude

fortification which they erected was called Fort Parker, a name that

to-day still suggests something of shuddering horror to those who have

heard its history.

It was a fair May morning when that history was made. The early risers

noticed that a body of restless Indians had collected within about four

hundred yards of the fort. A white flag was hoisted by the savages

to signify their peaceable intentions, and a warrior approached as

if for conference. Benjamin Parker, commander of the fort, went out

to meet him. He came back presently with the word that he believed

the Indians intended to fight. He returned, however, to the hostile

134
camp, where he was at once set upon and literally chopped to pieces

by the savages, who then with wild yells and bloodcurdling war-whoops

charged on the fort. Some of the inmates had already left the stockade.

Others were trying to escape. John Parker and wife and a Mrs. Kellogg

were overtaken a mile away. Parker was killed and scalped, his wife

was speared and Mrs. Kellogg was made captive. Other members of the

colony were butchered right and left, and mutilated in the barbarous

fashion which seems to give an Indian joy. Silas Parker was brutally

killed and his two children, one of whom was the little girl, Cynthia

Ann, were carried away. A Mrs. Plummer--daughter of Rev. James W.

Parker--attempted to escape, carrying her little son in her arms. A

huge painted savage, begrimed with dust and blood overtook her, felled

her with a hoe, and seizing her by the hair dragged her, still clinging

to her child, back amid the butchery and torture of her friends. She

and the others who were living were beaten with clubs and lashed with

rawhide thongs. That night such of the captives as remained alive,

and these included three children, were flung face down in the dust,

their hands bound behind their backs while the Indians, waving bloody

scalps and shrieking, danced about them and beat them with their bows

until the prisoners were strangling with their own blood. Later, they

took the infant child of Mrs. Plummer and slowly choked it before her

eyes. When it was not quite dead they flung it again and again into

the air and let it fall on the stones and earth. Then they tied a rope

around its neck and threw its naked body into the hedges of prickly

135
pear, from which they would jerk it fiercely with demoniacal yells.

Finally they fastened the rope attached to its neck to the pommel of a

saddle and rode round and round in a circle until the body of the child

was literally in shreds. The poor fragments were then thrown into the

mother's lap. For some reason, the little girl, Cynthia Ann Parker,

received better treatment, and lived. She grew up an Indian, forgot her

own race and tongue, married a chief and became the mother of another

chief, Quanah, surnamed Parker, to-day a friend of the white race.

It was the massacre of Fort Parker and events of a similar nature

that resulted in the organization of the Texas Rangers. The Rangers

were at first a semi-official body, locally enlisted and commanded,

with regulations and duties not very clearly defined. Their purpose,

however, was not in doubt. It was to defend life and property, and

their chief qualifications were to be able to ride and shoot and stand

up against the warfare of bloodthirsty savages.

"Exterminate the Indians" became a watchword in those days, and the

warfare that ensued and continued for forty years, can be compared

with nothing in history unless it be with the fierce feuds of the

ancient Scottish clans.

Early in 1836 Texas fought for and gained her independence, the only

State in the Union to achieve such a triumph. On the following year the

136
Texas congress recognized the Ranger movement and authorized several

persons to raise Ranger companies to scour the country and annihilate

marauding bands. Indians and low class Mexicans ("greasers") often

consorted, and the work, desperate and bloody, continued along the ever

widening and westering frontier up to within a period easily remembered

to-day by men not beyond middle age. Many names of those early Rangers

have been preserved in Texas annals and in local song and traditions,

and it would take many volumes to recount their deeds. Jack Hays, James

and Resin Bowie, "Big-foot" Wallace, Kit Ackland, Tom Green "Mustang"

Grey, of whom the song says:

"At the age of sixteen

He joined that jolly band

And marched from San Antonio

Out to the Rio Grand,"----

these and a hundred others are names that thrilled the Texan of that

elder day and they are still repeated and linked with tales of wild

warfare and endurance that are hardly surpassed in the world's history

of battle. A.J. Sowell, himself a Ranger in the early seventies, when

Indian outbreaks were still frequent and disastrous, speaking of the

Ranger equipment says:

"We had to furnish our own horses, clothing and six-shooters. The State

137
furnished us carbines, cartridges, provisions, etc., and we got fifty

dollars a month."[4]

It will be seen from the foregoing how different the Ranger service

and regulations were from those of either the federal or state troops.

Unlike the army they wore no uniform, and they provided, for the

most part, their own equipment. They differed from State and county

officials in that they were confined to no county or portion of the

State, but could "range" wherever their service was needed and with

little or no direction from headquarters until their mission was

accomplished. It will be clearly seen that men constituting such a band

must be not only brave, and quick and accurate with fire-arms, but

must be men of good character and high, firm principle as well. It is

the moral qualification more than any other that has given the Ranger

organization its efficiency and power. A force, however small, composed

of men who can shoot straight and are brave, and who believe in the

right, is well-nigh invincible. The Rangers, originally organized for a

great and sacred purpose, the defense of homes, went forth like knights

inspired by lofty motives and high resolves, and during whatever change

that has come in the aspect of their duties the tradition of honor

seems to have been preserved. Indeed they have been from the beginning

not unlike the knights of old who rode forth without fear and without

reproach to destroy evil and to redress wrong.

138
Speaking further of Ranger equipment Sowell says:

"In the first place he wants a good horse; strong saddle,

double-girted; a good carbine (this was before the day of Winchesters);

pistol and plenty of ammunition. He generally wears rough clothing,

either of buckskin or strong durable cloth and a broad-brimmed hat

of the Mexican style; thick over-shirt, top boots[5] and spurs, and

a jacket or short coat so that he can use himself with ease in the

saddle."

And the author adds:

"A genuine Texas Ranger will endure cold, hunger and fatigue, almost

without a murmur, and will stand by a friend and comrade in the hour of

danger and divide anything he has got from a blanket to his last crumb

of tobacco."

So much for the Ranger and his origin. As the years went by and the

Indian was conquered or driven away, the Ranger's work changed, but

his personality remained the same. The Ranger of seventy years ago

is the Ranger of to-day--only, his duties have altered. Long before

the conquest of the savages a new element of disorder had entered the

field. The desperado who had stirred up the first Indian troubles had

survived and increased, to plunder his own race. The new and sparsely

139
settled land invited every element of lawlessness and every refugee of

crime. Local authorities would not or could not contend with them. It

was for the Rangers, now much reduced in numbers, to solve the problem

of destroying the disturber in their midst as they had driven the

savage enemy from their frontiers. They were made peace officers, and

became a mounted constabulary, their duties being to quell disorders,

to prevent crime and to bring criminals to justice. It was new

work--less romantic than the wild Indian warfare of the frontier; work

full of new dangers and what was still worse it was work which instead

of inviting the encouragement and enthusiasm of a community, was of a

sort to incur its displeasure, for the desperadoes of a neighborhood

were either the heroes or the terrors of it, and in either case to

molest them was likely to prove unpopular. So it was, during this new

order of things, that the Ranger service had to contend not only with

the offenders but sometimes with the very people whom they were hoping

to protect. This made the work hard and discouraging, as work always

is hard and discouraging when it is done amid enemies who wear the

guise of friends. How well they have succeeded is told in the official

reports. W.H. Mabry, Adjutant General of Texas in 1896, says in his

report for that year, referring to the Rangers:

"This branch of the service has been very active and has done

incalculable good in policing the sparsely settled sections of the

State where the local officers, from the very nature of the conditions,

140
could not afford adequate protection. Including the meanderings of the

Rio Grande we have about 3,000 miles of frontier line. Part of this

borders on a foreign country, with different customs, law and language.

Only a river fordable at most any point intervenes. But for the Ranger

force, specially equipped for continued rapid movements, this border

line would be the rendezvous for criminals of nearly every description

and class."

General Mabry then sets down the fact that the Ranger service has

increased the State revenues by something like four hundred thousand

dollars for the year through the protection of leased frontier State

lands which otherwise could not be inhabited and would yield no return

in either rental or taxes.

In concluding he adds: "It is true that the frontier force does not

and could not cover all this territory, but the fact that they exist

and are scouting over every foot they can travel prevents organized

bands from being established along this border line.... They are

circumscribed by no county limits; can easily and rapidly move from

one section to another and criminals do not care to invite their

pursuit. Specially equipped for continued rapid motion, they take up

the trail and follow it with a persistency of the sleuth hound, until

the criminal is either run out of the country, captured or killed.

141
"In every train robbery which has occurred in Texas, the robbers have

been either captured or killed, whenever it was possible to carry

the Rangers to the scene, so they could take the trail. The broad

expanse of sparsely settled territory in this State would offer easy

opportunity for such crimes, if it were not for the protection given by

our mobile and active Ranger force."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 3: The scene of the Parker Massacre is located by some

authorities, in Limestone County, somewhat further north. Accounts

of the event itself also differ. The details here given are from

"Texas Rangers" by A.J. Sowell, and are said to have been supplied by

eye-witnesses.]

[Footnote 4: "Texas Rangers," by A.J. Sowell, of Seguin, Tex., 1884.]

[Footnote 5: The Ranger's boots like those of the cowboy are made with

high heels to prevent his foot from slipping through the stirrup. Both

the Ranger and the cowboy ride with the stirrup in the middle of the

foot, it being safer and also less fatiguing on a long ride, sometimes

a distance of a hundred miles between daylight and dark.]

142
XVII

"Captain of Company B, Ranger Force"

CAPTURE OF DAN AND BOB CAMPBELL. RECOMMENDATIONS FOR A

RANGER CAPTAIN.

GOVERNOR "JIM" HOGG APPOINTS HIS OLD FRIEND ON THE

STRENGTH OF THEM

It will be seen from the foregoing, and from the chapters already

published of these memoirs, that a man like Bill McDonald would be

well qualified for Ranger service. Already he had been appointed a

special Ranger in Company B., commanded by Captain S.A. McMurray, but

his duties as U.S. Deputy Marshal, in No-man's Land and in the Cherokee

Strip, had been his chief work. Nevertheless, he had, on occasion,

engaged in bandit-hunting in his own State, during this period, either

alone or in company with other officials, usually with good results.

An instance of this kind was the capture of Dan and Bob Campbell which

occurred about the time of his concluding the Cherokee Strip campaign.

With his wife, McDonald was on the way from Quanah to Fort Worth,

143
when, at a switch now known as Iowa Park, they met a special, standing

on a sidetrack, waiting for them to pass. It was the sort of train

that is made up for an urgent purpose, consisting only of an engine

and a single car, and McDonald recognized upon it the sheriff of

Wichita Falls, also the marshal and others of a posse, evidently out

for action. Upon inquiry, he learned that the Campbell boys, two

well-known desperadoes of that time, were believed to be somewhere in

the neighborhood, preparing to waylay a train. A good reward had been

offered for the Campbells and the sheriff and his men were considerably

moved. McDonald asked if they would like his assistance, and being

assured that they would, sent word back to his wife by the conductor of

the down train that he was going to catch some bad men, and boarding

the special already impatient to start, took the back track toward

Burke, a small station where the outlaws had been seen. When they

reached there, it was McDonald's wish to procure horses and begin the

search at that point, but the sheriff and his posse thought better to

proceed to Harrold, some twenty miles further along, in which direction

it was supposed the bandits had traveled.

Leaving word at Burke that they were to be notified in case of any

fresh discoveries, the officers again boarded the special, and upon

arriving at Harrold found a telegram that the outlaws had been seen

entering a thicket not far from Burke. Horses, and a freight car

in which to load them, were immediately secured, and the train was

144
backed to Burke. Here the officials separated, the sheriff directing

McDonald and the guide who had located the burglars, with a man

selected from the posse, to go in one direction, while the sheriff

with the remainder of the posse, took another course; the general plan

being to round in on the thicket where the outlaws were supposed to

be concealed. Arriving near the place, Deputy McDonald and the two

men with him discovered two horses hitched in the brush--undoubtedly

the mounts of the two Campbells. It was certain now that the quarry

was near by, and the three men waited a little for the sheriff and

his party to come up. It became evident, however, that their tactics

were of a different sort. The posse was scattering out as if they were

deer-hunting, taking stands at various distant and semi-distant points,

evidently expecting McDonald and his companions to go in and start up

the game. McDonald noticed now that his guide was not armed, and was

therefore of no further service. Turning to his other companion, he

said:

"I don't like this kind of performance. I'm in favor of charging

straight in on them."

[Illustration: THE CAPTURE OF DAN AND BOB CAMPBELL.

"He charged straight into the thicket, and suddenly found himself

almost on top of them."]

145
His companion seemed to agree to this plan, and without further word

Deputy Bill put spurs to his horse, charged straight into the thicket,

and suddenly found himself almost on top of Dan and Bob Campbell.

Without a breath of hesitation, he leaped to the ground, leveled at the

former, who was already in the act of shooting, and commanded him to

drop his gun. The order was obeyed; but Bob Campbell, who would seem to

have been asleep, reached for his six-shooter, and though commanded

not to touch it upon penalty of death, paid small attention to that

order. He did not attempt to fire the weapon, but lay there on the

ground with it raised, defying his would-be captor with language that

was both violent and uncomplimentary. McDonald now suddenly realized

that he was alone; that his companion had failed to join in the charge.

Bob Campbell realized this too, and became momentarily more defiant.

Then, all at once, help arrived. A dentist who had joined the sheriff's

posse, had observed Deputy McDonald's single-handed charge, and now

came bravely to his assistance. The Campbells both surrendered, then,

for the posse was not far behind. They were taken to Wichita Falls,

where the sheriff promptly claimed credit for the capture--also,

the reward. Later, the Campbells broke jail, but were eventually

recaptured, and served a long sentence.

Events of this sort kept Bill McDonald's name fresh in the Texas

mind, and made him seem peculiarly eligible for regular service.

146
The resignation of Captain S.A. McMurray, who had long and bravely

commanded Company B became his opportunity, and he hurried to Austin to

try for that command.

His old friend, James Hogg, was now governor of the State. Since the

settlement of their differences so long before, there had been no

discord of any kind, and each had admired the other's career, proud to

remember the friendship. Arriving at the capital, McDonald was shown

into the governor's room. Greeting him, he said:

"Well, I hardly know what to call you, since you got to be governor. I

don't know whether to call you 'Jim' or 'Mister.' I'll have to call you

'Governor,' I guess, as I want to get a place."

They shook hands cordially. Governor Hogg said:

"What is it, Bill? What can I do for you?"

"Why," said McDonald, "I came down to get to be Ranger Captain--to take

McMurray's place in Company B."

Hogg looked at him reprovingly.

"Why didn't you let me know sooner?" he said. "There are two other

147
applications for the place; both from good men, with long petitions and

fine endorsements."

The applicant for position forgot his old friend's title.

"Why, Jim," he said, "I never thought of it until a day or two ago. I

didn't have time to get endorsements, but I can get 'em, if you want

them. I have been working mostly in No-man's Land and the Territory

lately, but have done work in Texas too, and I can get about any kind

of endorsement you want."

Hogg laughed. He had a robust sense of humor.

"By gatlins!" he said, using his favorite expression. "That's all

right, Bill, you have already got the best endorsement I ever saw."

McDonald looked puzzled.

"I don't understand," he said, "I didn't know anybody knew I wanted a

place."

"All the same, you have got the endorsements," insisted Hogg.

He turned to his desk, and got out a bundle of letters.

148
"Look over these," he said. "You probably know some of the writers."

McDonald took the letters, and read them one after another. They

were from well-known criminals, their lawyers, their friends and

their associates. They had been received by Hogg while he was

attorney-general, and each was a protest and a complaint against

McDonald, declaring him to be a ruthless and tyrannical official, whose

chief recreation was hounding good citizens for the sake of revenge

or glory, enforcing laws that were not on the statute books, adding

that it was not unusual for him to put the said citizen in jail, or in

box-cars, declaring further that he sometimes hitched them to posts

with chains, and that he was a menace to legitimate settlement and

society in general.

McDonald looked over some of these documents, and grinned.

"That's so, Jim," he said, "I do put 'em in box-cars when there ain't

a jail; the way I used to do back in Mineola--you recollect, when the

jail was full--and I lariat 'em out with a chain and a post when there

ain't a box-car handy; but I don't reckon they're innocent."

Hogg nodded.

149
"By gatlins! Those endorsements are good enough for me," he said. "They

carry the flavor of conviction, I appoint you Ranger Captain on the

strength of them."

McDonald returned to Quanah with his appointment as captain of "Company

B, Frontier Battalion." The headquarters of the company were then at

Amarillo, in the southern part of Potter County, near the Randall

County line. This was almost the exact center of the Pan-handle, and in

a locality sparsely settled, untamed, and lawless.

Since the early days of "Ranging" there had been not much change in

Ranger regulations and equipment. The character of the work, however,

had changed and the force had been reduced in numbers. Company B now

consisted of only eight members all told. These were supposed to range

over all that vast section known as the Pan-handle, and were subject

to orders that might take them to any other portion of the State where

their assistance was needed. The Rangers were peace-officers, their

duty being to assist the local officers, rather than to take the

initiative and predominate.[6] In the Pan-handle, however, and in many

other portions of the State, the Rangers were obliged to lead, for the

reason that the local officers were either incapable, indifferent, or

incriminated, as we have already seen.

The Ranger camp at Amarillo--besides the eight men mentioned--consisted

150
of tents, furnished by the State, a wagon and mule team, a hack, and

two pack-mules. Each Ranger furnished his own horse and arms; the State

paid for food and ammunition, also for transportation when necessary.

In Company B were enrolled Sergeants J.M. Brittain and W.J. Sullivan;

Privates John and Tom Platt, Jim Green, John Bracken and John Bishop;

also somewhat later, W.J. McCauley--McDonald's nephew--a daring

youth--then about eighteen years old, but a natural plainsman, dashing

and fearless; an ideal Ranger.

Expeditions were always made with horses. When the distance was far,

the horses and pack-mules were shipped to the nearest railway-point,

sometimes by special train; an engine and car being secured for

such excursions. This train would stop at any point required; the

horses and pack-mules were jumped from the door of the car to the

ground--sometimes a distance of several feet--and when the point of

attack was close by, this wild little army would sweep across the

prairie or through the bushes; the pack-mules, loaded with cooking

utensils and tinware, often clattering ahead--riderless, but seeming to

know by instinct where to go--braying, with tail in air, constituting

an advance guard of reform. It would seem that such a charge might have

given the alarm and frightened every outlaw within a radius of several

miles; but as a matter of fact, these charges were generally planned

and undertaken with great secrecy, and the sudden clamor of such an

approach was likely to create an amazement which did not subside to the

151
point of action before the time for escape had slipped by. Speaking of

it afterwards, Captain McDonald said:

"That infernal racket seemed to jar the nerve of a criminal, for I

never knew a pack-mule charge where the men we wanted seemed to have

either spunk enough to put up a good fight or sense enough to get

away."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 6: This came into dispute somewhat later and the

Twenty-seventh Legislature passed an Act confirming what had always

been their custom.]

XVIII

An Exciting Indian Campaign

FIRST SERVICE AS RANGER CAPTAIN. BIGGEST INDIAN SCARE ON

RECORD

152
It was in January, 1891, that Bill McDonald received his appointment

as Ranger Captain, and his first official service was not long

delayed. He arrived at Amarillo about midnight, and was received with

congratulations, for the news had traveled ahead of him. He was tired,

however, and the hour was late, so he presently slipped away to bed.

He had hardly fallen asleep when he was rudely awakened and handed

a telegram which stated that the Indians had made a raid across the

border, and were killing and robbing in Hall County, near Salisbury.

Captain McDonald read the telegram and laughed. There had been no

Indian troubles in Texas for a number of years. White renegades there

were in plenty, but Indian outbreaks had long since ceased.

"I guess the boys are trying to have some fun with me on my first

night," he said, and turned in once more to sleep. But a few minutes

later another telegram came; and another; this time from the

superintendent of the railroad company--a Mr. Good, whom McDonald knew

as a man not given to practical joking.

The Ranger Captain dressed himself, hurried over to the telegraph

office and got the operator there to talk over the wire to the operator

where the scare had originated. He learned that it seemed to be

genuine, and that everybody was leaving the neighborhood. The operator

153
at Salisbury ended his information with "Good-by, I'm going now myself."

Captain Bill still could not believe it a genuine Indian incursion.

Hall County was in the second tier from the Territory line, and the

Indians would have had to cross Childress County to get to it. He did

not believe that they would undertake to do this, or that they could

have accomplished it without previous alarms. Still, it was his duty

to investigate. He got a special train; loaded in men, horses and

pack-mules, and set out on a hunt for Indians. It was about a hundred

miles to Salisbury, and they reached there early in the day. Not a soul

was in sight anywhere. The inhabitants were hidden, some in dug-outs,

some in haystacks, some in the tall grass. Here and there, as the train

pulled in, McDonald saw a head stick out from a sod house far out on

the prairie, then suddenly disappear, like a prairie-dog dropping into

his hole. He set out to interview some of these wary settlers, and

learned that the Indian alarm had been given by a man--a new settler

just arrived in the country--who had ridden his horse to death and lost

one of his children--having left him far behind somewhere--in his wild

eagerness to escape the savages who, he declared, were burning and

scalping not far away. Captain Bill found this man, and after a little

talk with him was convinced that what he had seen was nothing more nor

less than some cowboys on a round-up, disporting themselves around

their campfire at night, as cowboys will--dancing and capering in the

mad manner of young plainsmen whose ideas of amusement are elemental,

154
and whose opportunities for social diversions are few. The man and the

neighborhood, however, remained unconvinced, so it was decided to visit

the scene of the disturbance.

Horses, men and pack-mules unloaded themselves from the freight car,

and went racing over the prairie; the pack-mules, as usual, plunging

and braying with tail in air, their tinware clattering in a manner

calculated to put a whole tribe of Indians into a panic and send them

capering across the eastern horizon into their own domain. But there

were no Indians. It was as Captain Bill had thought; a gang of cowboys,

the evening before, had rounded up some cattle; killed a beef; carried

it to their camp near by, where they had built a great fire and roasted

it, doing a wild war-dance of celebration, and shooting off their

six-shooters in their prodigal expression of joy. Viewed from a little

distance, through a sort of mirage condition which had exaggerated the

whole effect, the scene to the newcomers was a horrifying picture of

savages about a burning home, with the inhabitants fleeing for their

lives.

The man who had just moved in had stampeded for his own safety and

started a general alarm, which did not subside even when the cowboys

themselves came in and testified to the truth. The panic spread

throughout that section of the country and other reports of Indian

outbreaks were circulated, becoming magnified until it was believed

155
that the Indians had broken out, and were making a general raid on the

Pan-handle. The inhabitants of one town, south of Amarillo, threw up

breastworks, got behind them, and put out pickets in preparation for

the arrival of the Indians. Every man seen loping across the prairie

was reported as an Indian; and all this happened as late as 1891,

when there had been no Indian outbreaks for years, and when there was

scarcely a possibility of anything of the sort. It was a big joke, of

course, afterward, but it seemed no joke at the time, and it was Bill

McDonald's initiation as Captain of Company B.

XIX

A Bit of Farming and Politics

CAPTAIN BILL AND HIS GOATS. THE "CAR-SHED" CONVENTION

There were to be plenty of real alarms soon enough, with plenty of

desperately hard work. Before taking up this part of the story,

however, it may not be out of place to dwell briefly on certain other

labors and interests incident to this period in Captain McDonald's

156
career.

The ranch on Wanderer's Creek, conducted for the most part by his

plucky wife, remained one of his possessions and in time became not

unprofitable. McDonald was one of the first to break land in that

section and when he put in a sowing of wheat it was thought that he had

gone daft. But the following year when the plowed land turned off a

crop of from twenty to thirty bushels to the acre, those who had been

first to scoff were likewise the earliest to imitate.

Captain Bill now became chief promoter in a plan for the irrigation

of this fruitful soil--the water to be obtained by damming Wanderer's

Creek. Several years later, two men of influence and substance, Cecil

Lyon and Joseph Rice, gave able support to this project with the result

that thousands of acres of grazing land became fertile farms--the

cowman's domain passing into the hands of tillers of the soil. The town

of Quanah reflected the steady agricultural increase, and what had been

an antelope range when McDonald and his wife first drove their herds to

that region, became a bustling city--in due time law-abiding--with a

population steadily increasing to this day.

The mention of the McDonald herds opens a way here for recording an

incident connected with the stocking of the Wanderer's Creek range.

McDonald and his wife had decided that they would raise goats as a

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sort of by-product and began business in this line by introducing a

flock of considerable size. However, it was a mistake. The goats were

a great nuisance. They would be feeding quietly on the range, when

suddenly, without warning, they would be seized with an impulse for

violent exercise, and would break away and go racing over the prairie

for seven or eight miles, to the brakes of the Pease River, where it

was very mountainous and hilly--altogether in accord with a goat's idea

of landscape. All the horses on the range were in danger of being run

to death chasing goats, getting them together and bringing them back to

the range. Finally it got to be a regular occupation, when there was

nothing else to do, to head for the Pease River and chase goats. One of

the men came in one morning when Captain Bill happened to be at home,

and asked:

"Well, Cap, what shall I do to-day?"

"Oh, I don't know. Go chase goats, I reckon."

"All right; but if you want me to do that, you'll have to get you some

goats. I rode all my horses down a couple o' days ago, hunting for them

in the brakes, and there ain't a goat to be found within forty miles.

"D----n the goats," said Captain Bill, "I don't care much for goats,

anyhow."

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There had been about two hundred of them, and for several years

afterward, hunters from other States in these wilds used to bring down

"mountain sheep" and "antelope," which bore strong resemblance to the

flocks which had once been Captain Bill's.

It was not long after McDonald's appointment as Ranger Captain that

the State political campaign came on. He had never lost his interest

in politics since the first awakening in the old Mineola days, when

he and Jim Hogg had been ranged against each other, ready to shed

blood for their candidates. Now, Hogg was governor and a candidate

for reëlection, with Bill McDonald ready to show what he could do in

the way of gratitude for favors past and present. The convention for

the nomination of the State officials was to be held at Houston, and

there was a good deal of excitement, as the opposition was likely

to be strong, with nominations closely contested. McDonald resolved

to be on hand and ready for any condition or emergency. Arriving in

Houston he learned upon investigation that the supporters of Hogg's

opponent, George Clark of Waco, had laid a plan to pack the convention

with Clark's friends; to occupy it so fully in fact, that it would be

impossible for the regular delegates to get seats. This would make

it necessary for them to meet elsewhere, and would cause them to be

regarded as bolters from the regular convention. Upon satisfying

himself that this was to be the program, Captain McDonald promptly went

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to his old friend and other leaders, and proposed to take charge of

matters. As Captain of the Rangers, he was under the Governor's orders,

and with Hogg's sanction he could use his own methods for preserving

the peace and for the prevention of scrambling and riot.

The convention was to be held in the "car-shed," a very large building,

which had been seated for the purpose. It had a wide entrance to

admit cars, and it could easily have been filled and crowded by a

mob. Captain Bill's plan was to put a good capable fence across this

wide opening, leaving a narrow passageway for a gate, which would be

completely guarded. No one unable to show credentials as a delegate

would be permitted to enter until the delegates were in and seated.

Governor Hogg approved of the idea and issued an order accordingly.

There was no delay in carrying it out. Captain Bill got some men

together, worked all night, and by sunrise the wide gateway of the

car-shed had been narrowed down to the little wicket-gate of official

admission. It was a complete surprise to the opposition. The gang that

had arranged to rush and pack the convention, regarded the barrier

and the men delegated to defend it, with amazement and profanity.

They began with epithets, and these they followed with more tangible

missiles, such as umbrellas, old shoes, and handbags. In another part

of the State they might have attempted the use of more effective

ammunition. As it was, they were obliged to confine themselves to

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protests more spectacular than effectual. The regular delegates filed

in and were seated. Then the crowds were permitted to enter in the

usual way, whereupon another convention was immediately organized in

the same hall, with another chairman on the same platform, and for a

time two conventions were running side by side.

Captain McDonald was finally called to the platform to preserve order.

There was a lively scene. The Ranger was kept busy keeping the two

factions separate, taking away their knives, a few pistols, canes,

umbrellas and such other weapons and missiles as they attempted to

bring into action. The final result was that both Clark and Hogg

were nominated, at the same time, in the same convention, and by

the same political party, though the Clark followers were styled

"Anti-Democrats" and bolters.

Hogg was re-elected in due time, by a good majority. The episode passed

into history as the "Car-shed" Convention.

XX

Taming the Pan-handle

161
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN COWBOYS AND "BAD MEN." HOW CAP-
TAIN BILL MADE

COW-STEALING UNPOPULAR

The Texas Pan-handle is that portion of the State which lies directly

south of what was No-man's Land, extending from parallels 100 to 103,

east and west. Its shape suggests its name, and its name suggests

limitless areas of waving grass; vast roving herds; cowboys and

ponies--both of the unbridled variety; bad men whose chief business was

to start graveyards, and the glad primeval lawlessness that prevails

when worlds are new.

Not so many years ago the Pan-handle was distinctly a world apart, and

a new one. With No-man's Land on the north, Indian Territory on the

east and New Mexico on the west, civilization could come only from the

south, and it did not come very fast. Indeed there was still plenty

of territory to the southward to be subdued--two or three tiers of

counties in fact--before the Pan-handle would be reached. So, it was a

place apart--an isolated fertile land, justifying the assertion of a

tramp that he had lost a hundred thousand dollars there in one year by

not having cattle to eat up the grass.

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The cattle came in due time, fighting back the Apache and the

Comanche, protected by Rangers from Ft. Griffin, accompanied by

stockmen of every nation, cowboys of every grade and criminals of

every breed. That was a wild epoch--chaotic and picturesque--a time of

individual administration and untempered justice.

It was also a time of mighty domain. Ranches there were as big as some

kingdoms. One, the X.I.T., covered a good portion of the northern

part of the Pan-handle. Another, the Matador, spread itself into five

counties. When settlement became thicker--when there were ranch-houses

not more than twenty-five to thirty miles apart--official allotment of

the lands was made. Then there was a grand gobble. The big stockmen

fenced everything with little regard for boundaries and less for the

law.

With such examples as these in high places, it is not strange that

a general indifference for legal rights and possessions prevailed.

Next to cattle raising, cattle-stealing was the chief industry. The

cowboy proper was not concerned in such work. He was likely to be a

clean-handed, straightforward, even if reckless, individual, honest

according to his lights. True, loyalty to his employer might render

him a trifle indifferent as to brands and marks when strays mixed with

the herd, but it was the employer and not the cowboy who profited

by such laxity. The cowboy was a retainer who would fight for his

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ranch, would die for it when circumstances seemed to require such a

sacrifice, and the increase of the ranch herd by any means short of

actual raid and theft was a custom which bore no relation to disrepute.

But individually the cowboy was likely to be the soul of honor and

good-nature, troublesome only on holidays when he was moved to ride

into the nearest settlement, drink up all the whisky he could buy, and

then, with six-shooter drawn, go careering up and down the streets,

shooting in random directions, explaining meantime with noisy and

repetitious adjectives, that he was a bad man--a very bad man from very

far up the Creek.

On such inspired occasions he would sometimes exclaim:

"Hide out little ones! Dad's come home drunk!" after which he would

let go a round of ammunition and the inhabitants of that neighborhood,

regardless of size, would proceed to hide out, as admonished. Sometimes

a whole group of cowboys would engage in this pastime, whereupon the

rest of the town disappeared and sat in cellars or flattened themselves

under beds until the cyclone passed by.

It was in such manner that the cowboy found relaxations and social joy.

He was not a bad man, in spite of his declaration. He was not really

hunting for trouble and would be the last to kill, without offense.[7]

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The truly bad man was of entirely different make-up. Always posing, and

sometimes accepted, as a man of valor, he was in nearly every case

merely a boaster and a coward. He would kill when he got the drop on

his man, and he built his reputation upon such murders. He passed as a

cowboy, when he was merely a cow-thief; as a hero, when he was only an

assassin. Driven into a corner he would fight, but his favorite method

was to slay from ambush. It was seldom that his reckless disregard for

human life included his own.

The Pan-handle was full of bad men in the early nineties. Most of them

had graduated from other schools of crime and found here a last resort.

Some of them--a good many of them--had obtained official positions and

were outlaws and deputies by turns, or worked conjunctively as both. As

a rule they were in one way and another associated with a gang.

Local authorities, even when conscientious, were poorly equipped to

cope with such an element, and it was for Company B, Ranger Force,

consisting of eight men with quarters at Amarillo, Captain W.J.

McDonald commanding, to police this vast wilderness, and to capture and

convert, or otherwise tame, its undesirable citizens.

Some of them would not wait to be captured; some, of course, could not

be tamed alive. Others, and these were not a few, would be able to

wield official influence through which they would escape conviction,

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regardless of the evidence.

Soon after McDonald's appointment he was notified of a marauding

band that across in Hutchinson County were committing the usual

crimes. They had burned the hay belonging to a ranchman on Turkey

Creek--several hundred tons in quantity--they had cut his wire fences;

they had killed cows for their calves, butchered beef cattle, cut out

brands--in a word they had conducted the business of cattle-stealing

and general depredation on a large scale.

Taking a portion of his force, Captain McDonald went over to

investigate. There seemed to be a good deal of mystery concerning

the identity of the offenders; but a mystery of that sort does not

stand a very good chance when it is operated upon by a man with eyes

like those of Captain Bill and with a nose and pair of ears of his

peculiar pattern. In a short time he had identified one member of the

band in a young man prominently connected in that section. This young

fellow--a dupe, no doubt, of professional cow-thieves, whose glittering

reputation as bad men had dazzled him--was the son of an able and

reputable lawyer, a member of the State legislature. The son, supposed

to be a cowboy, had become in reality an outlaw.

Captain McDonald took him in charge one day, questioned him and secured

sufficient evidence to file a complaint. The prisoner was turned over

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to the sheriff of Hutchinson County, and Captain Bill pursued his

investigation. He located a bunch of stolen calves, herded in the

brakes of the Canadian River, guarded by another member of the gang.

He brought a man who had lost a number of milk cows and calves to

identify the calves; no very difficult matter, for the man declared

that he knew them as well as he knew his own children. The cows had

been killed for their calves--and the latter had been "hobbled and

necked." After locating the calves, Captain McDonald investigated the

canyons and after several days found the cows that had been shot and

killed. One after another the missing bunches of cattle were located,

and the members of the band were brought in, and lodged in jail. The

case against them was clear. They were found with the stolen property;

some of them did not even attempt to make denial. Their examining

trial was held at Plemons, the county seat of Hutchinson County, and

the settlers gathered from far and near for the event. The trial was

held in a big barn of a court house, and the prisoners were bound over

to the district court. The Rangers were preparing to take them to

Pan-handle City, where there were safer and more commodious quarters,

when the sheriff--who had already distinguished himself by setting

free the prominent young outlaw first captured--appeared and demanded

the prisoners, on the ground that being sheriff of that county,

they could not be removed without his consent. The Ranger Captain

promptly informed him that, sheriff or no sheriff, he had shown his

disqualifications for office, and that these prisoners would be taken

167
to more secure quarters than he seemed willing to provide. The officer

departed, and presently mustered a crowd, armed with Winchesters. Then

he appeared once more before Captain Bill, produced the law which under

proper conditions might have supported him in his demand, and again

declared that he would have those prisoners, or that there would be

bloodshed and several Ranger funerals. Captain Bill promptly called his

men together.

"We are not going to stand any foolishness," he said. "If an attempt is

made to take these prisoners, cut down on any one who takes a hand in

it. Come, let's move on now, and get these men in jail."

The crowd that had gathered expected battle, then and there, but

nothing of the kind took place. The sheriff's armed bluff had been

called. Later, he obtained a writ of habeas corpus, but it was not

effective for the reason that the men had been committed under bond.

At all events it was not effective so long as McDonald and his Rangers

were in charge of the jail.

It was now evident that conviction of these offenders was not to be

expected in that county. Most of them had official influence of one

kind or another. In fact, there appeared to be nobody except those

whose property had suffered who seemed concerned in bringing these

bandits to justice.

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With such overwhelming evidence McDonald was determined, if possible,

to secure their punishment. He kept them in jail several months and

eventually was instrumental in getting their cases distributed and

sent to other counties for trial. Even so, they managed to evade the

law. Through influence of one kind or another, and the coöperation of

officials--former associates, perhaps, in the business of crime--their

cases were one by one dismissed.

In spite of this miscarriage of justice, the general effect of

McDonald's vigorous prosecution was wholesome. The members of that

band either left for the far isolations, or decided to reform. The

case is given, one of many such, as an example of what the honest

official had to contend with in the early Pan-handle days. Sometimes,

indeed, justice was even more openly and briskly side-tracked. Once,

when Captain Bill had caught a notorious cattle-thief, red-handed;

brought him to trial and secured his conviction by jury; the judge,

instead of passing sentence, took the law wholly into his own hands,

and administered it in a manner rather startling for its unexpectedness

and originality. He delivered an elaborate oration, which no one in

the court room comprehended in any large degree--himself included,

perhaps--and then read a lengthy decision concerning captures made upon

the high seas; closing with his own decision to the effect that the

clause covered this particular case as perfectly as if it had been made

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for it, and that the entire proceedings were irregular, irrelevant,

without warrant and without effect; concluding his amazing declaration

with the statement that the prisoner was discharged.

Cases like these would have discouraged and disgruntled a man of less

resolution and character than Bill McDonald. To him such things meant

only renewed determination. Strong in the knowledge that unless he

happened to be killed he would eventually make criminals scarce, and

corrupt or weak-kneed officials unpopular in that section, he gave

neither rest nor respite to those who broke the law in the field, or to

those who warped and disfigured it in the courts. Individually and in

groups he brought the bad men in and filled the jails with them, and

the box-cars, and when neither was handy he lariated them out, set a

guard, and rode off after more. When he failed to convict in one court

he tried another, and when he found an honest official he kept him

busy. In a recent letter written by Col. W.B. Camp of San Antonio, to

Edward M. House, one of the best known citizens of Texas, the writer

says:

"When he (Captain McDonald) was captain of the Rangers in Texas,

and doing his most effective work, I was District Attorney of the

Thirty-fifth Judicial District, in the Pan-handle, and I learned to

love, respect and admire this fearless officer, who always placed duty

before his own life. In those days on the frontier of Texas, it was

170
almost worth a man's life to uphold the majesty of the law, and the

five years of such experience I had in doing so teaches me the value of

such men as Captain Bill McDonald. History should hand down his name

for the coming generations by the side of the heroes of the Alamo and

San Jacinto."[8]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 7: "The Kansas City Journal" recently printed the following

cowboy song, with comments, offering it as a side-light on cowboy life

and character. The Journal said:

"The night guards of cattle or horse herds were wont to sing to their

charges as they slowly rode round and round them, keeping watch. If the

cattle stampeded, and were then brought together again and began moving

in a circle, which the punchers called 'milling,' and on all occasions

of fear or uneasiness among the stock, the boys sang to them, and it

had a quieting effect. These night riders were perfect horsemen and

seasoned to the trail and range. Their hours were endless; the calls

upon them for endurance were almost beyond human strength. Picture

a night on a lonely prairie, wild, disconcerting, horse elements, a

stampede among half-wild cattle, and it is not hard to know the task

that the cowboy confronted. It is something fine to think that in such

hours of danger the cattle could be 'crooned' back to normal quiet. Out

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of such occasions were the cowboy songs born." Then follow the words of

The Dim and Narrow Way.

"Last night as I lay on the prairie,

Looking up at the stars in the sky,

I wondered if ever a cowboy

Would go to that sweet by and by;

I wondered if ever a cowboy

Would go to that sweet by and by.

The trail to that fair mystic region

Is narrow and dim so they say,

While the broad road that leads to perdition

Is posted and blazed all the way;

While the broad road that leads to perdition

Is posted and blazed all the way.

They say there will be a grand round-up,

Where cowboys like cattle must stand,

To be cut out by riders of judgment,

Who are posted and know every brand;

To be cut out by riders of judgment,

Who are posted and know every brand.

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Perhaps there will be a stray cowboy,

Unbranded by anyone nigh,

Who'll be cut out by riders of judgment

And shipped to the sweet by and by;

Who'll be cut out by riders of judgment

And shipped to the sweet by and by."]

[Footnote 8: That Captain McDonald and his little force had the entire

supervision of that vast district is shown by Adjutant-General Maby's

report for 1896. See Appendix A.]

XXI

The Battle with Matthews

WHAT HAPPENED TO A MAN WHO HAD DECIDED TO KILL BILL MC-

DONALD

It was strange, indeed, that McDonald did not "happen to get killed"

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in those busy days of the early nineties. One of the favorite vows

of tough "pan-handlers" was to shoot Bill McDonald on sight. But the

reader will remember that there was a suddenness and vigor about Bill

McDonald's manner and method that was very bad for a vow like that

when the moment for its execution arrived. Still, there were those who

tried to make good, and one of these, duly assisted, came near being

successful. He would have succeeded, no doubt, if he had had time.

This man's name was John Pierce Matthews, which became simply John

Pierce after its owner had got the drop on a steamboat captain one day

in Louisiana and shot him dead. He took the new name with him to the

Pan-handle, where in due time he got the drop on another man, somewhere

up in the northern tier of counties, with the same result. This was

a good while before he came down to Childress County and got to be

sheriff, but there were those who had not forgotten, and among them

was Captain Bill McDonald, then stopping at Wichita Falls. Matthews,

or Pierce, as he was called, frequently came down to the Falls for a

spree, and on one such visit made application to join a secret society.

McDonald was a prominent member of that society and Matthews did not

get in. This stirred the animosity of Matthews, and he began to clean

his six-shooter daily and to practise sudden and accurate firing, which

he knew would be necessary in case of a show-down.

By and by there was a sheriff's convention at Houston, and on a boat

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excursion between Houston and Galveston, Matthews spoke disrespectfully

to Governor Hogg, who was on board. McDonald, who was also present,

promptly called Matthews to account, and a general settlement might

have been reached then and there had well-meaning, but misguided

friends of both parties not interfered, and spoiled a very pretty

sheriff's-picnic newspaper story. As it was, Matthews kept on oiling

his pistol and practising, meantime enlisting the sympathy of friends,

to whom he confided that some day when he had a little leisure he was

going to look up Bill McDonald and kill him, suggesting that they be

present and take a hand; _they_ being of the sort naturally interested

in such an enterprise.

Matthews also had another enemy, one Joe Beckham, sheriff of Motley

County, an officer of his own kind, who presently got as short as

possible in his accounts, absconded, and set out for Indian Territory.

Matthew had no right to go outside of his own county after a fugitive,

and no business in this matter, any way, as he wanted Beckham only

for a misdemeanor, whereas he was charged in his own county with

felony. But Matthews had an itch for Beckham on his own account, so he

picked up another enemy of Beckham, named Cook, a citizen of Motley

with an ambition for Beckham's office, and the two came with peaceful

attitude and fair words to Quanah where Captain Bill was then stopping,

requesting the loan of a Ranger to go over into the Territory after the

defaulting officer. McDonald refused, but said he would send a man as

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far as the Territory line--Ranger authority not extending beyond that

border. He did send one Ranger McClure, who being strongly persuaded,

overstepped, at the same instant, his authority and the State line;

captured Beckham, whom he lost through a writ of habeas corpus; fell

into a plot devised by Matthews and Cook to get rid of him, and was

finally brought back to Quanah by Captain Bill, who drove a hundred

miles on a bad night to get him out of the mess; after which McClure

was a wiser and better Ranger.

Beckham, meanwhile, had fallen a victim to remorse, or more likely had

been promised immunity, and now hurried over to Quanah and gave himself

up again to Ranger McClure, Captain Bill being absent from Quanah at

the time. Beckham asked to be taken to Matador, county seat of Motley,

for trial, and begged McClure to see him through Childress, where he

expected to be killed by Matthews and Cook.

McClure assured Beckham that he would see him safely to Matador, and

they set out by rail for Childress, at which point they would take a

team for the Motley county seat.

Matthews was on hand at Childress. He demanded Beckham of McClure, who

refused to deliver his prisoner. Matthews then started to organize

a posse to take Beckham. Word of this came to McClure who promptly

gave his prisoner a revolver and told him to help defend himself.

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Matthews and his crowd now tried to enlist the co-operation of Sheriff

Cunningham of Abilene who, as soon as he understood the situation,

resigned from the Matthews force and offered to assist the McClure

contingent. McClure thanked him, but said he guessed he'd go along

to Matador, now, with his prisoner, as the team was waiting. Captain

Bill was in Matador when Ranger and prisoner arrived, and Beckham was

jailed without further difficulty. Cook got appointed sheriff, by the

Commissioners' Court, but the District Judge refused to accept him

and selected a man named Moses for the job, whereupon Cook refused

to resign and Captain Bill was sent over to turn him out, which he

did with promptness and vigor. On his way back to Quanah, waiting for

a train in Childress, Matthews appeared and demanded that McDonald

dismiss Ranger McClure on general charges connected with the Beckham

episode. McDonald mildly but firmly refused and spoke his mind pretty

freely on the subject. All of which added fuel to the old resentment

which Matthews nursed and nourished in his bosom for Captain Bill.

If Matthews wanted to commit suicide he began preparing for it, now,

in the right way. He gave it out openly that he was going to wander

over to Quanah some day and kill Bill McDonald, just as a matter of

pastime, and he sent word to the same effect by any of Captain Bill's

friends that he found going that way. Perhaps he thought these messages

of impending death would unnerve the Ranger Captain and interfere

with his sleep. That was bad judgment. Bill McDonald needed only the

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anticipation of a little pistol practice like that to make him sleep

like an angel child.

"I didn't talk as loud as he did--nor as much," Captain Bill said

afterward. "I reckon he thought I was afraid of him."

Matthews had really cut the work out for himself, however, and had

enlisted help for the occasion. He was satisfied with his target

practice and the condition of his fire-arms, and he had taken to

wearing a plug of tobacco or a Bible or something solid like that in

the coat-pocket just over his heart, about where one of Bill McDonald's

bullets would be apt to strike, provided the Ranger happened to get a

bead on him, though he had planned against that, too.

It was in December, 1895, at last that Matthews and his pals came down

to Quanah for the declared purpose of killing a Ranger Captain. It was

a cold, dreary day and they visited one saloon after another, getting

a supply of courage for the job and explaining what they were going to

do. Then they took to following McDonald, always in a group, evidently

waiting the proper opportunity, confident enough that McDonald would

not take the offensive. Finally, however, they pressed him so close

that he suddenly turned and told them to quit following him or trouble

would ensue. Perhaps it did not seem a good place to do the job--there

being no sort of protection; perhaps there was something disquieting in

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the manner of Captain Bill's warning. They dropped away, for the time,

and McDonald gave the matter no further thought. Men threatening to

kill him was an item on every day's program.

It was nearly dusk of that bleak day, and McDonald was in the railway

station, sending an official telegram to his men at Amarillo, when an

old man named Crutcher, whom McDonald knew, came in with the word that

Matthews wanted to see him and fix up matters without any more trouble.

Captain Bill regarded Crutcher keenly; evidently he was sincere enough.

"John says he wants to see you and fix up everything right," repeated

the old man persuasively.

Captain Bill finished writing his telegram and sent it. Then turning to

Old Man Crutcher he said in his slow mild way:

"Well, that all sounds mighty good to me. I never want any trouble that

I can help. Come on, let's go find him."

They left the depot on the side toward the town, and as they did so

they saw the sheriff of Hardeman County, whose name was Dick Coffer,

with Matthews and two of the latter's friends, coming to meet them.

Sheriff Coffer was a step ahead of Matthews when they started across

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the street. Old Man Crutcher in a friendly way put his arm through

McDonald's as they advanced. When they were but four or five feet

between the groups, all stopped and there was a little silence.

Then McDonald said:

"Well?"

And Matthews answered, keeping Coffer just a trifle in advance:

"Well, what is it, Bill?"

Captain Bill began quietly.

"I understand," he said, "that you have been saying some pretty hard

things about me, and that you-all are going to wipe up the earth with

me. Is that so?"

Matthews edged a trifle nearer to Coffer.

"No," he said, "I didn't say that, but by God I'll tell you what I did

say," at the same moment pointing his left index finger in McDonald's

face, while his right hand slipped in the direction of his hip pocket.

180
Captain Bill saw the movement and his own hand dropped into his side

overcoat pocket where in winter he carried a part of his armament.

Matthews' practice in drawing, for some reason failed to benefit him.

His gun seemed to hang a little in the scabbard. A second later he had

jerked it free and stepping behind Coffer fired at Captain Bill over

the sheriff's right shoulder. But the slight hitch spoiled his aim,

perhaps, for the bullet missed, passing through McDonald's overcoat

collar, though the range was so short that the powder burned his face.

The game could now be considered open. Captain Bill with a quick

movement that was between a skip and a step, got around Coffer and

let go two shots in quick succession, at Matthews. But the latter's

breast-piece was a success. Both of McDonald's bullets struck within

the space of a fifty-cent piece, just above Matthews' heart, penetrated

a thick plug of Star Navy, found a heavy note-book behind it and

stopped.

With a thought process which may be regarded as cool for such a moment,

Captain Bill realized that for some reason he could not kill Matthews

by shooting him on that side, and shifted his aim. Matthews, meantime,

had again dodged behind Coffer, who now dropped flat to the ground,

where it was quieter. Captain Bill was bending forward at the time,

trying to get a shot around Coffer, and as the latter dropped, Matthews

fired, the bullet striking McDonald in the left shoulder, ranging down

181
through his lung to the small of his back, traveling two-thirds the

length of his body for lodgment.

[Illustration: THE BATTLE WITH MATTHEWS AT QUANAH.

"He started to cock his gun, when he received another ball in his right

shoulder."]

The Ranger was knocked backward, but did not fall. Matthews quickly

fired again, but McDonald was near enough now to knock the gun aside

with his own, and the ball passed through his hat-brim. Aiming at

Matthews' other shoulder, McDonald let go his third shot and Matthews

fell.

Meantime the two deputy assassins had opened fire, and one of them

had sent two bullets through McDonald's left arm. To these he gave no

attention until Matthews dropped. Wheeling now he started to cock his

gun, when he received another ball, this time in his right shoulder,

along which it traveled to his neck, thence around the wind-pipe to

the left side. His fingers were paralyzed by this wound and he made an

effort to cock his gun with his teeth; but there was no further need,

for with the collapse of Matthews his co-murderers fled wildly to

cover, behind the depot, nearly upsetting a box-car in their hurry, as

a spectator remarked.

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Captain Bill walked a few steps to the side-walk. There was a post

there, and holding to this he eased himself to a sitting position. A

man ran up to him.

"Cap, how about it?"

"Well, I think I'm a dead rabbit."

They gathered him up and took him to a drug-store, and they took

Matthews to a drug-store across the street. By and by they carried

Captain Bill home and a doctor came to hunt for the bullets.

"Don't fool around with that one in my neck, Doc," Captain Bill said.

"Go after the one in the small of my back, and let out the blood.

There's a bucket of it sloshin' around in there."

The doctor obeyed orders. It was proper to gratify a dying man.

"Now, Doc," the Ranger Captain said when the operation was over, and

the surplus cargo had been removed, "now, I'll get well," and Rhoda

McDonald, his nervy wife, who had arrived on the scene, echoed this

belief.

183
"If Bill Jess says he'll get well, he'll do it!" she declared.

But this was a minority opinion, and that night when it was rumored

that Captain Bill would not pull through, there were threats that in

case he didn't, the two men who had trained with Matthews would be

strung up without further notice. Some word of this was brought to

Captain Bill, perhaps as a message of comfort.

"Don't you do it, boys," he said. "I'm going to get well, and even if I

don't, I want the law to take its course. I'm opposed to lynching."

Matthews died in a few days. He was removed to Childress and died

there. Before his death he sent word to McDonald.

"You acted the man all through," was his message. "I'm only sorry that

I can't see you and apologize."

"Tell him that I'm doing all right," was the answer returned, "and

that I hope he'll get well."

The mending of Captain Bill was a slow process. For about two months

he was laid up, and then with his wife he sojourned for a time at a

sanitarium. After that, he was up once more, pale and stooped but ready

and eager for action. In time he was apparently as fit as ever; though,

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in truth, the physical repairing was never quite complete.

XXII

What Happened to Beckham

AN OUTLAW RAID AND A RANGER BATTLE. JOE BECKHAM ENDS HIS

CAREER

Meantime the cause of the final and fatal difference between Matthews

and McDonald--Joe Beckham, former sheriff of Motley--was out on bond,

disporting himself in picturesque fashion. He got a change of venue,

and when his case came up in Baylor County, Cook--his old rival and now

his successor, by election--started over to testify; whereupon Beckham

met the train and promptly shot Cook dead as he struck the platform.

Beckham then mounted a fast horse and cantered away into the Territory,

where he joined in organizing a new gang made up of old offenders,

with a view to doing a wholesale general business in crime. In this

gang were Red Buck, and Hill Loftus, both justly celebrated; also Kid

Lewis--later hung. They established headquarters in a neighborhood

185
thought to be comparatively safe, since Bill McDonald's work had been

confined to Texas, and opened business with every prospect of reaping

the natural reward of perseverance and industry.

They began by making a general raid on what is now Electra, Texas,

where they cleaned out some stores and knocked a storekeeper on the

head; after which, they looted a country store and post office, kept

by one Al Bailey, then rode away in the direction of their Territory

headquarters.

Company B, Ranger Service, was promptly notified, and Captain McDonald,

not yet able to undertake a hard chase, sent his nephew McCauley with

Jack Harwell and two other Rangers to join the sheriff of Wilbarger

County at Electra, in the pursuit. The Rangers quickly struck the trail

and had followed forty miles toward the Territory at a hard gait when

they spied a dug-out, not far ahead. At the same moment they met an

ostensible cowboy--a "line-rider," he said, on his rounds. The dug-out,

he told them, was his, and that they would find something to eat there.

The party hurried on in the hope of food and warmth, for with the

coming of evening it had grown very cold, and snow was beginning to

fall. They were a little surprised to see a light in the dug-out, but

pushed on toward it, when suddenly a volley of shots rang out from

that cover, and three horses dropped dead. Not one of the riders was

186
injured, and they promptly returned the fire. Then followed a regular

exchange of shots which kept up to some extent all that bitter cold,

snowy night. When morning came, only McCauley and Harwell of the Ranger

Force remained in action, the others having been driven by the cold and

storm to find shelter.

The dug-out was silent enough, now, but McCauley and Harwell, nearly

dead from exposure, were in no condition to charge it, alone. They were

without horses, and set out for Waggoner's ranch twenty-five miles

away, afoot. Red River lay between, and when they arrived there the

prospect of wading that icy current was miserable enough. Nevertheless,

they did it, arriving at Waggoner's ranch, frostbitten and almost dead

of hunger. The others had reached there several hours earlier.

When all were in condition again, they returned to investigate the

dug-out. The place was deserted. Red Buck (wounded, as they learned

later) with Hill Loftus, had been able to get away; also, Kid Lewis,

for whom a telephone pole was already waiting at Wichita Falls.

Joe Beckham lay stretched upon the floor, dead.

187
XXIII

A Medal for Speed

CAPTAIN BILL OUTRUNS A CRIMINAL AND WINS A GOLD MEDAL

We are not through with the Pan-handle, but we will relate here an

incident which belongs outside of that district, though within the

period. It seemed always a part of Bill Jess McDonald's peculiar

fortunes that wherever he went he found work suited to his hand.

He had been in Fort Worth on official business, in this instance,

and boarded the north-bound train just as it was pulling out of the

station. As he did so, he noticed two disreputable-looking characters

crowding against a well-dressed old gentleman, and an instant later

heard the latter exclaim, "I have been robbed!" At the same moment the

two toughs started to leap from the car-steps.

Captain Bill's presence of mind responded promptly. His six-shooter

was out with small delay, and seizing one of the men, he called to the

other to halt. The man detained made an attempt to strike his captor,

who promptly "bent" his gun over his head--mildly at first, then with

force, bringing the offender to his knees. The Ranger Captain now

188
pulled the bell-cord; brought the train to a standstill; turned his

prisoner over to a policeman who had appeared on the scene, and set out

in pursuit of the other thief, who by this time had obtained a healthy

start.

Captain Bill is built like a greyhound, with long hind legs, and a

prow designed for splitting the wind. The thief was active, and making

good time, but he was no match for a Ranger of that architecture. The

distance between them closed up rapidly, and after a race of over a

mile the fugitive, having reached what was known as "Niggertown,"

dived into one of the houses, causing a regular stampede among the

inhabitants. Men, women, and a rabble of little pickaninnies fell

out in every direction. Captain Bill, now close behind, added to the

excitement as he plunged in, only to find the room vacant. A quilt,

however, hung across a second doorway, and stepping over to it, his

six-shooter ready for emergency, he drew the hanging quickly aside. As

he did so, he was confronted by a man standing on a chair, holding in

his hand a bottle filled with some transparent liquid, which he was in

the act of throwing. The crack of McDonald's revolver was followed by

such a sudden collapse of the would-be vitriol-thrower, that the Ranger

Captain thought he had wounded him seriously, though his intention

had been merely to disable the arm in action. Investigation showed,

however, that the thief was only frightened; that the ball had grazed

his arm, also his ear, cutting a hole through the rim of his hat.

189
Securing the vitriol as evidence, Captain Bill marched his man back to

where he had left thief Number One, only to find that the inexperienced

policeman had allowed him to escape. He did not trust him with his

second capture, but personally saw him safely locked up, and then set

out for home by the next train.

Not long after, a package arrived one day in Amarillo, and upon being

opened, it was found to contain a handsome gold medal, contributed by a

prominent jeweler and others of Fort Worth.

This decoration was engraved with Captain McDonald's name and official

title; and an accompanying letter stated that it was awarded as a token

of appreciation of his efforts in bringing criminals to justice, and as

a premium for his superior swiftness of foot on a mile and a quarter

track.

XXIV

Captain Bill in Mexico

190
MEXICAN THIEVES TRY TO HOLD UP CAPTAIN BILL AND GET A SUR-
PRISE. MEXICAN

POLICE MAKE THE SAME ATTEMPT WITH THE SAME RESULT. PRESI-
DENT DIAZ TRIES

TO ENLIST HIM

The First National Bank of Quanah failed in 1893, and one of the

head officials, wanted for embezzlement and forgery, made his escape

to Mexico, where he was arrested. Governor Hogg immediately made

requisition for him, and Captain McDonald was detailed to bring him

back across the line. Accompanied by one of the bank directors,

McDonald set out for Mexico, only to find that his man had been

set free, and was then making his way to remoter hiding. It was no

difficult matter, however, to trace him, and the Ranger Captain

presently overhauled him and put him in jail, there to await certain

red-tape formalities incident to the deliberate Mexican official

methods.

Having a good deal of time on his hands, Captain Bill spent it in

sight-seeing. It was interesting enough, but he could not understand

why he used up so many handkerchiefs. They seemed to disappear from

his pockets in some magic way, and no matter how many he set out with,

he presently found his supply entirely exhausted. He realized at last

191
that this curious condition was not due altogether to accident, nor to

carelessness on his own part. Laying in a fresh stock of handkerchiefs,

he strolled warily along, seemingly unconscious of those who loitered

near him, apparently absorbed in sight-seeing. Presently, from the

corner of his eye, he noticed a Mexican passing near him make a quick

movement with his hand, and caught a glimpse of white passing from

his pocket to that of the Mexican. His sudden grab so startled this

industrious person that he did not even attempt flight. Captain Bill

thereupon promptly recovered his handkerchief, which he found had been

lifted with a slender wire hook; an effective implement in busy and

skilful hands. Without any further preliminaries, he set out for the

jail with his prisoner, but meeting an American acquaintance to whom he

explained the situation, he was advised to proceed no further with the

case.

"If you take him there, they will lock you up with him," he said.

"Well, I guess they won't," said McDonald.

"They certainly will," insisted his friend. "The law here is to confine

the witness with the prisoner, and there is no telling when you'll get

out."

Captain Bill reconsidered, whirled his prisoner around, gave him an

192
impetuous kick or two, and some advice, which perhaps reached his

comprehension, though in an unknown tongue.

The man fled; it is not known whether he took the advice or not.

Captain Bill's adventures in Mexico were not over. A few nights later

he visited a large casino where gambling was conducted openly, and

mildly diverted himself by taking a hand at bucking the national game,

monte. He played in luck, and the stakes became high. His winnings grew

to a considerable sum, and there were greedy eyes in the group who

watched his play. When he left the place, at last, and descended the

stairway, he noticed that two men seemed to be following him. As he

reached the dim hallway below, he stopped; they stopped also.

Captain Bill was pleased. This was a game he preferred even to monte,

he had played it so much oftener. He stepped out into the middle of the

street, where he would have a clear field of observation, and set out

leisurely, as if he had not noticed anything wrong. The men following

gained upon him, one dropping a little in the rear, the other working

his way to the front. As they reached a dark locality, the man in front

began to drop back a little, evidently getting ready to close in, while

the one behind stepped up a little more lively, until he was about on

a line with Captain Bill, who now noticed him throw back his serape

as if to free his arm for action. No longer in doubt as to what they

193
meant to do, the Captain brought out his "forty-five" with a swing

that landed the barrel of it with full force on the head of the man in

front. Wheeling, he covered the other, who, seeing his companion drop

with a thud, promptly fled, the Ranger Captain close behind. They raced

down the dim street, and the Mexican, trying to keep his eye on his

pursuer and turn a corner at the same time, ran into a stone wall and

nearly knocked his head off.

Captain Bill was satisfied with the game as it stood, and set out

for his hotel. He was not to arrive there, however, without further

complications. The commotion of the foot-race had aroused a squad of

police-a poor lot, in greasy white uniforms--and these bore down upon

him now with a good deal of excited talk and gesticulation, none of

which he understood. Apparently they thought he was a bloodthirsty

person, who was in the habit of knocking men over the head with his gun

and chasing others into stone walls, for amusement. He explained in the

best Texan he could muster that the men had been trying to rob him,

but it was no use. They insisted by signs that he must come with them.

When he shook his head in refusal, they began reaching for their long

revolvers, which they wore in clumsy holsters.

Captain Bill knew this game, also. He had played it in No-man's Land,

in the Cherokee Strip, and he was still playing it in the Pan-handle.

It was his favorite and daily occupation. Before their guns were half

194
way to any effective position, he had them covered, and in tones that

are universally understood, even when they convey words of strange

meaning, he warned them to desist.

Men are in the habit of obeying Bill McDonald under such conditions.

The Mexican police obeyed him, and when he indicated that they were

to march in front of him, they did so in a formation at once orderly

and well-maintained. He directed them toward the Hotel Guadaola,

where he was stopping. Arriving there, he explained to the guard, who

understood English, what had happened, and instructed him to convey

the information to the police, with his thanks for their courteous and

prompt attention, and a request that they should meet him at the office

of President Diaz at ten o 'clock the following morning. The guard

undertook to do this, and the police went away, dazed and muttering.

They were on hand next morning at the President's office when Captain

Bill arrived. During his sojourn in the city, McDonald had come

in contact a number of times with President Diaz, and a pleasant

friendship had sprung up between them. Diaz, who has an excellent

knowledge of English, heard the Captain's explanation now with a

good deal of amusement, and after dismissing his policemen with some

paternal advice, he presented Captain Bill with a pass which gave

him the freedom of any portion of the city at any hour and under all

circumstances.

195
The friendship between Diaz and Captain Bill ripened into something

like intimacy now, and a few days later, the Mexican President, in

discussing the nation's troubles with Guatemala, invited the Ranger

Captain's opinion of the situation, and of the force in the field.

"Well, Mr. President," said Captain Bill, "I don't think much of your

Mexican soldiers, but I could take a squad of Texas Rangers and go

down to Guatemala and clean up that outfit down there, capture their

finances and bring their Government to terms in twenty-four hours."

The Mexican President's eyes showed his approval of this scheme.

"I think a good deal of your Texan _rurales_," he said, "but they have

killed a lot of our people, too."

Captain Bill nodded.

"Only the kind that needed killing," he said.

"Very likely," assented Diaz; then added, a moment later,

"Captain, I propose that you enlist with us for the purpose you

mentioned just now, and bring over five hundred of your Texas cowboys

196
to assist in the undertaking."

Diaz waxed enthusiastic over this idea, and Captain Bill was not

unwilling to enter into the scheme. The matter went so far as to

get into the newspapers, but at that point it came to a sudden end.

Governor Hogg and Adjutant-General W.S. Mabry--a fine soldier, who

later died in the Cuban war--did not propose to have their Ranger

Captain go off on any such filibustering expeditions, and promptly

nipped the whole matter in the bud.

Captain Bill stayed for a considerable time in the Mexican capital, for

his companion, the bank official, fell very ill, and the Captain turned

nurse to pull him through. He very soon became a well-known figure in

the city, being often pointed out as the man who had taken a squad of

police in charge; who was going to bring his Rangers down to whip the

Guatemalans, and whose skill with the six-shooter was nothing short of

miraculous. This last belief was in some manner sustained one day when

he visited a shooting gallery in company with an American dentist, who

had taken pleasure in showing him the sights of the quaint old town.

"Captain, suppose you shoot at those targets as rapidly as you can, and

see how many you'll miss," he said, when they were inside.

Without hesitation, McDonald drew his revolver and opened a perfect

197
fusillade, hitting a target at each shot. Two Mexicans who were

practising in the gallery made a wild break for the open air and

safety. Soldiers and police came running in excitement and confusion

to discover the cause. It was all over by this time, and the officers,

seeing only Captain Bill and the dentist, stood gaping, waiting an

explanation.

"It is nothing," said the dentist, in Spanish; "my friend the Captain

was only practising a little to keep his hand in."

XXV

A New Style in the Pan-handle

CHARLES A. CULBERSON PAYS A TRIBUTE TO RANGER MARKSMANSHIP.

CAPTAIN

BILL IN A "PLUG" HAT

It was during the Pan-handle period that Charles A. Culberson--son of

the Dave Culberson who nearly thirty years before had cleared the boy,

198
Bill Jess McDonald, from a charge of treason--was Attorney-General

for the State of Texas. Captain Bill was at Quanah, one day, when he

received notice from Culberson that the latter was anxious to locate

the 100th meridian, preliminary to beginning a suit against the United

States to test the claim made by Texas for Greer County--now a portion

of Oklahoma. The Attorney General invited Captain Bill to accompany him

as guide and body guard, knowing him to be familiar with the district

and capable of taking care of such an expedition.

They left the railroad at Vernon, Wilbarger County, proceeded in a

buck-board to Doan's Store on the Red River, and crossed over into

Greer County. It was a pleasant drive across the prairies, and Captain

Bill who felt in good practice beguiled the time by bringing down

prairie dogs, running rabbits, sailing hawks and the like, using his

six-shooter with one hand and his Winchester with the other, riding

along as they were, without stopping. To Culberson, this performance

was amazing enough.

"Captain," he said, "that beats anything I ever saw. Why, I believe you

could throw a nickle up in the air and hit it before it touched the

ground."

McDonald smiled in his quiet way.

199
"Do you think so?" he said. "Well, I reckon I might, but I wouldn't

want to waste a nickel that way."

Captain Bill then gave a few exhibitions of what he really could do in

the way of shooting, and Culberson declared without hesitation that

there was not such another marksman in the State of Texas. The Attorney

General was enjoying himself immensely.

They camped that night, and next morning were continuing their journey

toward Mangum, the county seat of Greer, when they began to meet men

and women on horseback, evidently getting out of that section of the

country without much waste of time. Captain Bill inquired the reason

of this exodus and was told that a cowboy had killed an Indian over on

the North Fork of the Red, and that the Indians were getting on their

war-paint, preparatory to making a raid--Comanches and Kiowas.

"General," said Captain Bill, "I'll have to look into this thing. You

can go on to Mangum with the team and I'll get me a horse and go over

and take a hand in the trouble."

"Not at all," said Culberson, "you've undertaken to see me through this

trip and I'm not going to let you desert now, Indians or no Indians."

"But I've got to, General. This is a pleasure trip, and that's

200
business. Them devils are goin' to start something over there and it's

my duty as Ranger to investigate it."

Culberson laughed.

"Now, Captain," he said, "you know very well that all you want is to

get over there where there's a chance to give a shooting exhibition.

You've got tired of hawks and prairie dogs and want to try your hand on

Indians."

A new arrival just then furnished the information that the offending

cowboy had been jailed at Mangum, and that the Indians were likely

to storm the jail. This settled the matter, for Ranger duty and

inclination now lay in the same direction. McDonald and Culberson

drove as rapidly as possible toward Mangum, then about fifty miles

away, changing horses once on the hard journey. The town was well-nigh

deserted, as nearly everyone who could get a gun had gone to the scene

of the killing. Captain Bill therefore established himself as guard of

the jail where the cowboy was confined, and waited results. Nothing of

consequence happened. The country quieted down, Culberson and Captain

Bill presently returned to Quanah.

But a few days later when the Attorney General had arrived in Austin,

Captain Bill received a package by express, prepaid. On opening it

201
he was stupefied to find that it contained a "plug" hat of very fine

quality. It was the first silk hat in the Pan-handle, where the soft

wide-rimmed cowboy Stetson predominated, and it took more courage to

wear it than to face an assault with intent to kill.

But Captain Bill was game. He was a "brother-in-law to the church" as

he said--his wife being a member--and the following Sunday he put on

the silk hat and accompanied her to meeting.

Their seat was up near the front, only a step from the pulpit--a good

thing for the minister, otherwise nobody would have looked in his

direction. As it was, all eyes were aimed toward Captain Bill and his

hat. The congregation had seen him come in with it in his hand, and

they could still observe the wonder, for it would not do to put so fine

a piece of property on the floor, while to set it toppling on his lap

would be to court disaster. It seemed necessary therefore to hold it in

his hand, raised a little, and at a distance from his body, in order

that by no chance movement the marvelous gloss of it should be marred.

The people of Quanah who attended church that day were glad to be

there. They are still glad. They do not remember the sermon they heard,

but they do remember that hat. Even the minister wandered from his text

in his contemplation of that splendid exhibition. Those of Quanah who

remained away from service on that memorable Sunday have never entirely

recovered from their regret. For it was their only opportunity ever

202
to see Captain Bill in a plug hat. When services were over, the

congregation crowded about for a nearer view. Cowboys stood up on the

backs of the pews to look over the shoulders of those in front of them.

Homesick women who remembered such things back east, shed tears. Many

wanted to touch the precious thing--to stroke its silken surface, and

among these were little children who insisted on rubbing the fur the

wrong way.

Captain Bill got out at last and headed for home. Once there, the gift

of the Attorney General was reverently damned and laid away. Somewhere

in a secret stronghold, deep buried from mortal eye, it exists to this

hour.

XXVI

Preventing a Prize-fight

THE FITZSIMMONS MAHER FIGHT THAT DIDN'T COME OFF AT EL PASO,

AND WHY.

CAPTAIN BILL "TAKES UP" FOR A CHINAMAN

203
Culberson became Governor in the course of time, and remembering

Captain Bill's peculiar talents was wont to rely upon him for special

work in any portion of the State where nerve, determination and prompt,

accurate marksmanship were likely to be of value.

During February, 1896, a national sporting event--a ring contest

between Bob Fitzsimmons and Pete Maher--was advertised to take place

at El Paso, a busy city dropped down on the extreme western point of

the Texas desert, on the banks of the Rio Grande. Governor Culberson,

speaking for himself as well as for the better class of citizens in

his State, announced that so long as he was in office, Texas would

not go on record as a prize-fighting commonwealth, and that the fight

would not take place. Thereupon there came a crisis. Certain interested

citizens of El Paso had made up a purse of ten thousand dollars to

bring this event to the "Paris of Texas" and these and their friends

were filled with indignation. Dan Stuart, prominent in Texas sporting

matters and promoter of this particular event, issued a proclamation

which bore not only the announcement that the fight would take place as

advertised, but a picture of Dan himself. Also, it was declared that

there was no law in Texas which would prevent prize-fighting, and the

preparations for this particular event continued; whereupon Governor

Culberson promptly called a special session of the legislature to pass

a law which would be effective, and Adjutant-General Mabry ordered the

204
State Ranger Service to assemble at El Paso to see that this law was

enforced--it having been widely reported that Bat Masterson with a

hundred fighting men would be present to see that the fight came off.

Then, when it was rumored that the contest would take place in either

Old or New Mexico--the boundaries of both being near El Paso--President

Cleveland ordered the United States Marshal of New Mexico to proceed

to the vicinity of El Paso and guard the isolated districts of that

territory, while the Governor of Chihuahua took measures to discourage

the enterprise in that State.

Things began to look pretty squally for the sporting fraternity, both

in El Paso and at large, and they were mad clear through. The city

council assembled and passed a denunciatory measure, condemning the

Governor for asking for Rangers; the Adjutant-General for sending them,

and the Rangers for being present.

It was no use. The Rangers went quietly about the streets, paying no

attention to unfriendly looks and open threats as they passed along.

Efforts were made by the principals and their friends to elude the

Rangers, but with no other result than that a Ranger was appointed as

a special body-guard to each of the pugilists, while a third, Captain

McDonald, became the temporary associate of Dan Stuart. They had

nothing particular to do--these Rangers--except to be companionable,

and pleasant, and to stay with their men. Wherever Stuart and Maher and

205
Fitzsimmons went their official attendants went with them, and even if

not always welcome they were entertained with sufficient courtesy, for

the person of a Ranger is sacred--besides, he is reputed to be quick

and fatal.

Such sport became monotonous. The pugilists and their friends gave up

the El Paso idea, and, still accompanied by the Rangers, took the train

for Langtry, a point where the Southern Pacific Railway touches the

Rio Grande. The State of Coahuila lay across the river, and Langtry

itself was at that period the proper gateway to a pugilists' paradise,

its law being administered by one Roy Bean, justice of the peace and

saloon-keeper, whose sign read:

MIXED DRINKS

LAW WEST OF THE PECOS.

It is said that Bean's drinks were about on a par with his law, and

that the latter was administered with a gun. He tried court cases,

granted divorces, and handed down decisions without the trammel of a

jury or other assistance. Once when a citizen killed a Chinaman in his

place, Bean consulted the statutes, and finding nothing in reference

to the murder of a Chinaman in his saloon, discharged the prisoner

as having committed no offense. At another time, when a man walking

across a high bridge over the Pecos had fallen and broken his neck,

206
and the matter was brought before Bean, the dispenser of "Law West of

the Pecos," discovered that the pockets of the unfortunate contained a

six-shooter and forty-one dollars in money; whereupon he fined the dead

man twenty-five dollars and costs for carrying a concealed weapon, and

appropriated the forty-one dollars and the six-shooter, in settlement.

A whole chapter could be written about Bean and his official service,

but this is not the place for it. It is the place, however, for another

incident concerning a Chinaman--a case in which, though tried west of

the Pecos, the Chinaman's rights were sustained.

The train bound for Langtry with the pugilistic party and Rangers

aboard stopped at Sanderson, a small wayside station in the desert, for

lunch. Everybody was hungry and hurried over to a Chinese restaurant

for something to eat, and the Chinese waiters scurried about to serve

them. They were doing their best, but it was not easy to satisfy

everybody at once. Next to Captain McDonald sat Bat Masterson. Bat has

since given up all his reckless ways and become a good citizen, but

at that time he was training with the unreformed and not feeling very

well, anyhow. It seemed to Bat that a Chinese waiter was not getting

around as promptly with food as he might and he set in to admonish him.

The Chinaman replied to the effect that he was doing his best, whereat

Masterson decided to correct him with a table-castor. Captain Bill

had been sitting quietly, saying nothing; but as Masterson raised the

castor the Ranger Captain clutched his arm.

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"Don't you hit that man!" he said.

Masterson wheeled.

"Maybe _you'd_ like to take it up!"

Captain Bill regarded him steadily for an instant.

"I done took it up!" was his quiet answer.

The castor was put down. Masterson reflected silently while he waited

for his food. Perhaps that was the beginning of his reform.

Arriving at Langtry, Stuart, Fitzsimmons and Maher were escorted to

the Rio Grande, where, with all their fraternity, they crossed over to

Mexican soil and the fight was pulled off in good order. It was a good

fight, as fights go, and Fitzsimmons won with a knock-out landed on

Maher's jaw; but it did not take place on Texas soil.[9]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 9: For official details of the situation at El Paso, etc.,

see Appendix A, Adjutant-General W.H. Mabry's report.]

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XXVII

The Wichita Falls Bank Robbery and Murder

KID LEWIS AND HIS GANG TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE ABSENCE OF THE
RANGERS. HE

MAKES A BAD CALCULATION AND COMES TO GRIEF

The absence of Captain Bill and his Rangers from the Pan-handle, was

construed by Kid Lewis as an invitation to rob a bank. He selected the

City National of Wichita Falls for his purpose and with a partner named

Crawford rode up to that institution one day about noon, and entering,

demanded the bank funds. Cashier Frank Dorsey failing to comply with

that demand, was shot dead; H.H. Langford, bookkeeper, was wounded,

and the Vice-President of the bank escaped by having in his left

breast-pocket a small case of surgical instruments. This deflected the

ball which otherwise would have entered his heart.

The robbers then secured whatever money was in sight--about six

209
hundred dollars in gold and silver--ran out the back door, mounted

their waiting horses and galloped away. The citizens were by this

time alarmed and a number set out in pursuit, full speed. There was a

running fight, during which Lewis' horse was shot, but an instant later

he was clear of it, and leaping behind Crawford the two went plunging

away double until they met an old man driving into town with a single

horse. This they appropriated forthwith, leaving their pursuers a good

way behind. Still further on, they crossed Holiday Creek and came to a

field where a man was plowing. They now abandoned their blown horses

and at the point of a gun took his heavy Clydesdale team and once more

dashed away, making for the Wichita River. Their pursuers gained on

the clumsy animals and fired several more shots at the fugitives, then

decided to return and organize a posse, which they raised in short

order. This posse followed the track of Lewis and Crawford beyond the

Wichita River, to a place where the robbers had taken to the thick

brush overgrowing the river bottom. Here the trail was lost.

Captain McDonald, returning from the Fitzsimmons-Maher contest, via

Fort Worth, had got as far as Bellvue in the adjoining county when he

was met by a telegram, containing the news of what had happened that

morning at Wichita Falls. He immediately wired the authorities at the

Falls to have horses in readiness for himself and men.

The Rangers reached the city about two in the afternoon and mounting

210
the horses, already waiting, dashed away in the direction the robbers

had taken. With him, Captain Bill had Rangers McCauley, Harwell,

Sullivan, Queen, and McClure--the tried, picked men whom Lewis and

Crawford had been most anxious to avoid. The horses were picked, too,

for speed and endurance and went at a wild headlong gait--almost too

headlong for safety. A small creek that had become a bed of mud lay

across the road and Captain Bill's horse, stumbling on the brink, sent

him head first into the soft mixture, which literally daubed him from

head to foot before he could get on his feet. His men thought for a

moment that he was killed, but he rose spluttering and swearing, wholly

unhurt, though fearfully disfigured, and with no time to remove his

disguise. Instantly mounting, he galloped on, a sight to behold, the

others respectfully restraining any tendency to mirth.

Presently they met the local posse coming back. The posse had given up

the chase, but was able to furnish information. Captain Bill and his

Rangers learned where the robbers had disappeared, and pressed on in

that direction, the posse following.

It was now getting toward evening and would soon be dusk. It was

desirable to make an end of matters by daylight, if possible, and

the Rangers wasted no time. They picked their way rapidly into the

thick undergrowth of the bottoms, and suddenly in a bend of the river

discovered the Clydesdale horses tied close to the bank. Their riders

211
were believed to be close by, and the Rangers expected to be fired upon

at any moment. Without waiting for any such reception they charged in

the direction of the horses, with no other result than that Ranger

Sullivan broke a stirrup, fell, and with a fractured rib, retired from

action.

Lewis and Crawford had abandoned the horses, and their trail led down

the river bank. The Rangers also left their horses at this point, for

it was hard going. McDonald now took Queen and Harwell, one on either

side of him, their guns in readiness while he gave his attention to the

trail. The light was getting very dim where they were, but Captain Bill

is a natural trailer and followed the tracks without difficulty. Here

and there they found stray articles which the men had dropped in their

flight. Finally the tracks led to the river where it was evident the

bandits had crossed.

It was February and the water was very cold. Captain Bill had not

yet recovered from the terrible bullet wounds received in the fight

with Matthews, two months before, and was bent and debilitated, but

he did not falter. With Queen and Harwell he plunged in and waded the

icy water, chin deep, to the other side. Twice more the trail led to

the river and crossed, and twice more McDonald and his men waded that

bitter current, holding their fire-arms above their heads, their bodies

literally numb with cold. It was a severe experience, but as Captain

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Bill said afterwards, it removed a good deal of his mud.

McDonald now made up his mind that the robbers would be likely to cross

a road that had been cut through the bottoms, and head toward the

Territory, which they were evidently trying to reach, believing the

Rangers would not follow them across the line. He called to one of his

men--Ranger McClure, who appeared just then, a little distance away--to

get all the force he could and guard that road, while he, McDonald,

with Queen and Harwell, would continue to beat the brush and search

carefully through the bottoms. At that moment Lewis and Crawford were

near enough to hear this order, and the realization that it was Bill

McDonald and his Rangers who were on the trail gave them a sudden and

more severe chill than the icy water they had waded.

They had been heading for the Territory, as McDonald suspected, but

decided to change their course toward a creek that ran parallel with

the river. On their way to it they were obliged to cross an open field,

and though by this time it was night--between nine and ten o'clock--a

full moon had risen and they were discovered by the men guarding the

road, and fired upon. They returned the fire as they ran, but no damage

was done on either side. Meantime, McDonald and his two companions,

nearly perishing with wet and cold, having come upon a house in their

search, had stopped to try for a cup of hot coffee. At the sound of the

shots they rushed out. A horse was hitched at the door and Captain Bill

213
leaped into the saddle and hurried in the direction of the alarm. As he

approached, he saw in the moonlight a crowd--the local posse--gathered

on the little hill overlooking the wheatfield where the robbers had

crossed. The Ranger Captain fully expected to find the captured or dead

bandits in that crowd, and called out as he came up:

"Boys, where are they? Where are the robbers?"

They pointed in the direction of some brush about a quarter of a mile

away.

"They went into that creek bottom, over yonder."

"Well, then, what in the devil are you all doing up here?"

Somebody answered:

"You must think we're dam' fools to go in there after those fellows. Of

course we didn't go in there, and don't intend to."

"Well," said Captain Bill, "I'm going, and if any of you fellows want

to go, come ahead, but I don't want any man that don't go willingly."

Ranger McCauley had ridden up.

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"You can't get away from me, Uncle Bill," he said.

The two loped off in the direction of the thicket, but presently found

their way barred by a wire fence. Leaving their horses they made a

circuit around the enclosure and soon struck what seemed to be a road,

leading into the bottom. Hurrying along they came upon Ranger McClure,

who had been in charge of the posse when the shooting had occurred, and

had set out alone to locate the robbers.

"Hello, Bob, where are they?" asked Captain Bill, as he and McCauley

came up.

"Right over there, Cap. They ran in the brush, over by yonder big tree."

"Well, boys, we've got to get them. We'll charge in there."

They pushed rapidly into the bushes without further parley--McDonald

heading for the tree, McCauley and McClure spreading out to the right.

Captain Bill made straight for the big tree pointed out by McClure, his

gun ready for quick service. It was a still, moonlit place, but brushy

and full of shadows, and not easy going. The crack of Winchesters might

be expected at any moment.

215
Suddenly the Captain found himself confronted by a creek, and looking

across saw two men with guns, squatting in the weeds. They appeared

to be on the point of raising their guns to fire, but with McDonald's

appearance and his sharp command, "Hold up there!" made from behind his

own leveled Winchester, they were unable to complete the action. Their

guns dropped into their laps--they seemed stupefied.

"Throw up your hands!" was the next order.

The hands went up.

"Get up from there!"

One of the men found his voice.

"We can't, Captain, our guns are lying across our laps, cocked. They'll

go off if we get up."

"Get up or I'll turn you over!"

They rose hastily, their guns sliding to the ground.

"Back off there, now, and face the other way."

216
They obeyed like soldiers on drill.

Captain Bill stepped into the creek, about three feet deep, and waded

across. He noticed a bag, doubtless containing the stolen money, and

observed that the robbers had laid their cartridges out on a log for

convenient use. At that moment McCauley and McClure came hurrying up,

apparently ready to shoot.

"Hold up boys! It's all right," said McDonald, "I've got 'em!"

McCauley and McClure waded across and assisted in searching the

prisoners. A purse of gold was found in one of the men's pockets; the

sack on the ground contained silver.

"Now, let's get out of this," said McDonald, "and get where it's warm."

"You're not going to make us wade that cold creek, are you" said Lewis,

shivering.

"Look here," said Captain Bill. "If you don't get across there and

pretty quick, too, I'll duck you, head first. You've made me wade water

up to my neck, all the afternoon."

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They all crossed, then--the fifth time in the cold water that day for

McDonald--and made their way to where he and McCauley had left their

horses. Here they got a rope and bound the prisoners, their arms behind

them. Captain Bill then called to the posse, still waiting in the road

a quarter of a mile away listening for the sound of the shots that

would probably bring down Rangers.

"Come on, boys," he yelled, "we've got em!"

So they came "lickety brindle," but presently stopped.

"Captain, are you sure you got 'em!"

"Yes, I've got 'em, and got 'em tied. Come on--there's no danger, now!"

The crowd tore through the brush to get over there, and some of them

began abusing the captured men, declaring they had murdered the best

man in Wichita Falls, and furnishing a graphic outline of what would

happen to them, in consequence. What they said was all true enough,

maybe, but the saying of it seemed in rather poor taste to Captain Bill.

"Look here," he said, "these men are my prisoners, now; you let them

alone."

218
He marched Lewis and Crawford over to Mart Boger's ranch, where all got

some hot coffee and something to eat. Boger also supplied a wagon in

which to haul the prisoners.

It was McDonald's first intention to take the men to Henrietta, for

safe keeping, but against his judgment he was persuaded to take them to

Wichita Falls. He gave orders, however, that none of the crowd should

leave, as he did not wish the news of the capture to travel ahead of

them--realizing that a mob of citizens would be likely to gather.

On the way to the Falls the Rangers fell into conversation with Lewis;

and McCauley and Harwell discussed with him the fight that he and Hill

Loftus and the others had made, that night in the dug-out when Joe

Beckham had been killed. Lewis explained how he and Red Buck and Loftus

had managed to slip away without being seen. Then McDonald said:

"Boys, how was it you didn't shoot me a while ago, when you saw me

coming through the bushes? You-all had your guns cocked and ready--and

you knew you'd be hung, anyway, if you got caught. You saw me

first--why didn't you shoot?"

"Cap," said Lewis, "we thought you were out of the country and wouldn't

get back before we could get to the Territory. When we heard you giving

orders and knew who it was, we lost our nerve, and when we saw you, we

219
somehow got paralyzed."

When the procession had arrived within a mile or two of the Falls,

Captain McDonald, realizing that some one had doubtless slipped away

and carried the news, sent one of his men to have the jail door open

in order that there might be no delay in entering. His suspicion was

correct, for the news had traveled, and though it was then about two o

'clock in the morning, several hundred men were congregated about the

jail when the Rangers with their prisoners arrived. Captain Bill rode

ahead and opened the way with his gun.

"Give room, here, men!" he commanded, and the way opened.

Lewis and Crawford were marched into the jail--Rangers McCauley and

Queen being left to guard the door. The prisoners were taken to cells,

carefully searched, and locked in. Captain McDonald then descended to

disperse the crowd, which had grown noisy and ugly in its demands for

the prisoners, and was apparently making ready to attack the jail.

Captain Bill addressed this assembly.

"Boys," he said, "I reckon you-all are my friends, and if you are,

you'll go home now and go to bed. My Rangers and I captured these men

and they are our prisoners. We've got them locked up, and they'll have

a fair trial. You men didn't capture them, and you have nothing to do

220
with them. They're unarmed now, and can't defend themselves, but if you

make an attack on this jail I'll give the prisoners their guns, and

we'll lick this crowd. I command you to disperse immediately. If you

don't, we'll begin business right now."

The mob dispersed. Some of the leaders wanted to call Captain Bill

away to discuss matters, but he would have none of it, and cleared

the grounds. Then in spite of his wet, cold, weary condition, and the

terrible wounds received less than three months before, he stayed with

his men, on guard, till morning. Then a message was brought to him that

Hill Loftus had been concerned in the robbery and that he was hiding in

a dug-out near town.

Knowing that Loftus and Lewis trained together, Captain McDonald did

not discredit this report, or suspect that it was part of a ruse to

get him away from the jail. He ordered a horse from the stable at once

and made ready to start.

"Aren't you going to take your men with you?" asked the men who had

brought the word.

"No," said Captain Bill. "I want them to stay here."

"But Loftus is a bad man, and will have the advantage of you, being in

221
the dug-out."

"That's all right--I can take care of him; but I do want somebody to

come and show me the place."

A man volunteered to do this, and rode with Captain Bill to a dug-out

some distance away, in the edge of the town. The place was empty, but

another man appeared just then who claimed to have seen Loftus leave, a

little while before, taking a northerly direction.

Still unsuspecting, Captain Bill set out at full speed, but after

riding three miles and seeing no sign of Loftus, or his trail, he

rode back to Wichita Falls. At the edge of the town he was met by his

nephew, Henry McCauley, with the news that everybody who could get a

gun had marched on the jail, and that no doubt Lewis and Crawford were

already hung.

Captain Bill did not wait for another word. A mob of several hundred

men had gathered about the jail, wild with excitement, determined to

have Lewis and Crawford and to lynch them, forthwith. Suddenly this

multitude saw Captain Bill bearing down on them--his Winchester in

position for business and fury in his eye.

[Illustration: QUELLING A LYNCHING MOB AT WICHITA FALLS.

222
"Boys, have you still got the prisoners?"]

"Boys," he called to his Rangers, as he dashed up, "have you still got

the prisoners?"

"Yes," they called back, "they're still in the jail!"

Captain Bill wheeled on the mob.

"Now!" he shouted, "damn your sorry souls! march out of here and get

away from this jail, every one of you, or I'll fill this yard with dead

men!"

He had his Winchester leveled as he spoke and those who considered

themselves in range made a wild, hasty effort to get into some safer

locality. Captain Bill swung the point of his gun a little so it

covered a good many in its orbit, and nobody knew when it might go off.

They knew if it did go off it would hit whatever spot he selected, and

nobody wanted to own that spot. The crowd moved--some of it hurried

a good deal--and Captain Bill helped things along with language. He

escorted the mob well into town.

The Ranger Captain now prepared to move the prisoners to Fort Worth,

223
but was notified by the District Judge that this could not be

done--that any attempt to do so would result in general trouble with

the citizens of Wichita Falls. McDonald protested that the citizens had

already shown that they were unable to take care of the prisoners in a

legal way. The judge said:

"I will appoint twenty-five men to guard the jail."

"You mean you will appoint twenty-five men to keep me from taking Lewis

and Crawford away," McDonald said:

"No, only to help you guard them."

"But if you have a guard of twenty-five men you don't need the Rangers."

The judge argued for the moral support of the Rangers. McDonald

informed him that it was impossible for his force to remain in Wichita

Falls, guarding prisoners; that other work was waiting for them; that

there was already a requisition for them at Quanah; that furthermore

they had been away from their headquarters for two weeks, besides being

wet and cold and worn out from exposure and want of sleep.

"Let the others go, Captain, and you stay," urged the judge.

224
"Judge," said Captain Bill, "you know I'm all shot up, and it's the

first time I've rode any, and what with yesterday, and last night,

and to-day I'm about used up, and likely to be sick. Now, if you can

take care of those prisoners with your guard, all right. If you think

you can't, I'll take 'em to Fort Worth, where they'll be safe. But

I'm going to get out of here to-night, unless you get an order from

Governor Culberson for me to stay. It ain't far to the telegraph

office, only about thirty steps--you can go and wire him, if you want

to. If he says for me to stay, I will, of course. But otherwise I'm

going. I've done my whole duty, now. When I get prisoners in jail, and

guarded, my duty ends. Your guard of twenty-five men with your local

officers can hold that jail if they want to. I could hold it alone."

No order came to the Rangers from Governor Culberson, and they left

that afternoon, when the local guard had been duly installed. That

night the mob once more marched on the jail, and in spite of the armed

guard and the sheriff, deputies and constables, Lewis and Crawford were

taken from their cells and hung to telephones poles, close to the bank

where they had committed their crime.

Citizens of Wichita Falls complained to Governor Culberson that Captain

McDonald and his Rangers had gone away, leaving the prisoners to the

mercy of the mob. Culberson wired to McDonald, and receiving the facts

in reply, commended him throughout.

225
A reward of two thousand dollars for the capture of Lewis and Crawford

was paid by the two banks of Wichita Falls. The local posse divided it

into thirty-two equal parts, in which they generously permitted the

Rangers to share.

XXVIII

Captain Bill as a Peace-maker

HE ATTENDS CERTAIN STRIKES AND RIOTS ALONE WITH SATISFAC-

TORY RESULTS.

GOES TO THURBER AND DISPERSES A MOB

During the years that ended the old century and began the new--from

about 1896 to 1902, or later--there occurred in Texas a series of

strike and mob disorders of various kinds. To quiet troubles of

this sort is the special province of the Ranger Service, and as the

Pan-handle became more tractable--more range-broken, as one may

say--Captain Bill McDonald and his little force were summoned to points

226
far and near to put down disturbance and to check agitation.

It was not long after the bank murder at Wichita Falls, and the

capture of Lewis and Crawford, that Captain McDonald was summoned

there again, this time to investigate a strike on the Fort Worth and

Denver Railroad. Things were in bad shape at the Falls. Trains were not

allowed to run, engines were not permitted to move. Riot and bloodshed

were imminent.

Captain Bill did not think it necessary to take his men. He went up to

Wichita Falls alone, and learning where the main body of the strikers

were assembled, went over there. They had gathered in a hall, and were

holding a secret meeting when he arrived. The Captain knocked on the

door. A doorkeeper came, but refused admission.

"I am Captain McDonald, of the Rangers," said McDonald quietly, "and

I'm here to talk to you men and see what the trouble is. You're all

here? now, and I think I'll talk to you together."

The doorkeeper went away and reported, and presently returned.

"Where are your Rangers?" he asked.

"I didn't bring any. I don't need any. I'm a pretty good single-handed

227
talker, myself."

There was another consultation inside, and the door opened. Captain

Bill went in with a friendly greeting for everybody, given in his

genial natural way. Then he got up where he could see his audience.

"Boys," he said, in his slow, friendly way, "I understand you-all are

acting mighty sorry over here, interfering with business and making

out like you're going to tear up things generally. Now, you know me,

and you know that I don't want anything that ain't right, and if a man

behaves himself I'll try to get him what's right, if I can. I suppose

you think you have a grievance and perhaps you have, but you'll never

get it settled this way, and it's my business, as you-all know, not to

have this sort of work going on. You have a perfect right to quit work,

but you haven't any right to keep other men from working, or to injure

people's business or to break up property. Nothing good can come out

of such doings. I didn't bring any of my men along, because I didn't

believe I'd need 'em, and I don't think so now, but of course if this

thing goes on, I'll have to bring 'em, and then it will be too late to

talk all friendly here together as we're talking now.

"I'm well acquainted with President Good of this road, and I know you

can't get anything this way; and if you take my advice you'll go back

to work: and tell him your troubles afterward. Now, boys, that's all

228
I've got to say, and I reckon if you listen to it you'll come out a

good deal better than if you listen to one or two men that for some

reason of their own are trying to stir up a lot of trouble, and will be

in jail before night, as like as not."

Captain Bill went down on the street and the crowd soon followed. A

good many came to him and expressed willingness to go to work. Here and

there he talked to a little group in his friendly, earnest way. The

strike at Wichita Falls was over.

From Wichita Falls McDonald went over to Fort Worth, where there was

similar trouble, but learned that a more serious situation existed

at the Thurber coal-mines, in Erath County. The miners were of many

nationalities--ignorant and brutish--and they were swayed by anarchical

leaders. The Ranger Captain was urged to take his men to Thurber, but

decided to go alone.

Arriving at Thurber, he hunted up the mine officials, for

consultation. Colonel Hunter, President of the mines, looked at Captain

Bill--bent over from his wounds and battered up from illness and

exposure--and shook his head.

"You should have brought your men," he said. "You can't do anything

with a gang like ours, alone."

229
"Well, Colonel, I'm using my men in other places. I'll look around a

little and do what I can, anyway."

Loitering about the town, he discovered that a number of kegs of beer

were going out to a high hill, beyond the outskirts--headquarters of

the striking miners. He learned that there was to be a sort of mass

meeting there that night, when the leaders and chief agitators would be

on hand. He decided to be present.

It was well after dark when he set out, and a good crowd had assembled

when he reached the place. It was out on a mountain where the timber

had been cut off, about half a mile from Thurber, and there was no

light except from a misty moon. At one place there was a big log, used

by the speakers to stand on, and about this the crowd and the beer-kegs

were gathered. Captain Bill, unnoticed, blended with the outer edges.

It was near eleven o'clock, and a speaker had come to the conclusion

that the crowd was in the proper condition to take some good radical

advice--which might be followed by prompt action--so he proceeded to

give it. He told them how they had been mistreated and what they should

do. They were to begin by blowing up the mines and the superintendent's

office, and he told them which mine to blow up first. Then he told them

what they were to do to "Old Hunter," and it was clear from the faces

230
and the muttering of the listeners that they were ready to do these

things.

Captain Bill worked his way through the crowd until he was close to the

speaker's log. When the agitator reached what seemed a good stopping

place, the Ranger Captain suddenly stepped up beside him. The speaker

stopped dead still, in his surprise. It was Captain Bill's turn.

"Men," he said, "this rascal that has been talking to you is an enemy

to you and to the country. He's trying to get you to commit murder, and

to get you sent to the penitentiary, or hung. You can quit work, but

you can't kill people and destroy property, not in this State. These

walking delegates and leaders that are telling you to do these things

are just a sorry lot of damned scoundrels, and I'm going to put them

where they belong, and where they're trying to get you. I'm Captain of

Company B, Ranger Service, and I'm here alone, but I'll have my men

here, if I need them, and I'll hang just such fellows as this man--"

Captain Bill turned to indicate his selected victim, but he was no

longer there. He had melted into the crowd, and was seen no more.

A man from the assembly came up and urged the Ranger Captain to

desist--warning him that there were desperate men there, and that he

would be killed.

231
"Don't mind me," Captain Bill proceeded, "that's been tried on me more

than once without much success. You see I'm here yet--spared, I reckon,

to give you some good advice. Now, you men had better take it and give

up these meetings, and if you've got to jump onto anybody, jump onto

the fellows that's trying to get you into trouble. Good-night!"

Captain Bill walked back to Thurber and next morning a messenger came

to his room to tell him that there was a big crowd outside, hunting for

him. He rose and dressed, and taking his Winchester went out to see

what was going on. When he appeared he was waited on by some miners

who wanted him to talk a little more to the men. He was told that a

number of them had decided to go to work and wanted to know what kind

of protection they would have. Captain Bill assured them of protection

and fair treatment. Then he asked where their leaders had gone--the men

who had been urging them to do murder. But they could not tell. Those

ill-advisers had vanished over night. Within a brief time the men were

nearly all back at work, doing better than ever before.

At other points McDonald or his Rangers quieted the strikers and

prevented trouble of various kinds. Usually Captain Bill went alone. It

was his favorite way of handling mob disorders, as we have seen. It is

told of him in Dallas how once he came to that city in response to a

dispatch for a company of Rangers, this time to put down an impending

prize-fight.

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"Where are the others?" asked the disappointed Mayor, who met him at

the depot.

"Hell! aint I enough?" was the response, "there's only one

prize-fight!"

XXIX

The Buzzard's Water Hole Gang

THE MURDER SOCIETY OF SAN SABA AND WHAT HAPPENED TO IT AF-

TER THE

RANGERS ARRIVED

But the San Saba affair was a different matter. It was in 1897 that

certain citizens of San Saba County petitioned the Governor to send

Rangers to investigate the numerous murders which had been committed

in that locality--the number of assassinations then aggregating

forty-three within a period of ten years.

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In fact, San Saba and the country lying adjacent was absolutely

controlled at that time by what was nothing less than a murder society.

San Saba County, situated about the center of the State, lies on

the border of the great south-west wilderness, and is crossed by no

railroad. In an earlier day a sort of Vigilance Committee or mob had

been organized to deal with lawless characters, but in the course of

time the usual thing happened and the committee itself became the chief

menace of the community. Whatever worthy members it had originally

claimed, either dropped out or were "removed," and were replaced

by men who had a private grudge against a neighbor; or desired his

property; or were fond of murder on general principles. In time this

deadly organization became not only a social but a political factor,

and as such had gathered into its gruesome membership--active and

honorary--county officials ranging from the deputy constabulary to

occupants of the judicial bench. Indeed, it seemed that a majority of

the citizens of San Saba were associated together for the purpose of

getting rid--either by assassination or intimidation--of the worthier

element of the community.

This society of death was well organized. It had an active membership

of about three hundred, with obligations rigid and severe. Their

meeting place was a small natural pool of water, almost surrounded

by hills. It bore the curiously appropriate name of "Buzzard's Water

234
Hole," and here the Worthy Order of Assassins assembled once a month,

usually during full moon, to transact general business and to formulate

plans for the removal of offending or superfluous friends. Sentinels

were posted during such gatherings, and there were passwords and signs.

These were forms preserved from the original organization; hardly

necessary now it would seem, since the majority of the inhabitants were

in sympathy with the mob, while those who were not could hardly have

been dragged to that ghastly spot. They preserved other things--they

kept up the semblance of being inspired by lofty motives, and they

maintained the forms that go with religious undertakings; wherefore,

being duly assembled to plot murder, they still opened their meetings

with prayer!

After which, the real business came up for transaction. Members in

good standing would make known their desires, setting forth reasons

why citizens in various walks of life were better dead, and the cases

were considered, and the decrees passed accordingly. Sometimes when a

man's offense was only that he owned a piece of desirable real estate,

a resolution was passed that a committee of fifty should wait on that

citizen and give him from three to five days to emigrate, this to be

supplemented by a second committee of one whose duty it would be to

call next day and make the said undesirable citizen a modest, not to

say decent, offer for his holdings. It was not in human nature to

resist a temptation like that. The man would be likely to go. He would

235
accept that offer, whatever it was, and he would get out of there

before night. The organization acquired a good deal of choice property

by this plan. When an election was coming on, the society decided who

was to be chosen for office, and who for assassination, and committees

were likewise appointed to see that all was duly performed. It was a

remarkable society, when you come to think about it--a good deal like

Tammany Hall, only more fatal.

To break up the Buzzard's Water Hole roost, and to discourage its

practices in and around San Saba, was the job cut out for Bill McDonald

and his Rangers during the summer and fall of 1897.

Captain McDonald began the work by sending over three of his men--John

Sullivan, Dud Barker and Edgar Neil--to investigate. There was plenty

of trail and the Rangers ran onto it everywhere. It wound in and out

in a hundred directions, and gathered in a regular knot around the

seat of justice. Perhaps there were town and county officials who were

not in the toils of the deadly membership, but if so they were not

discoverable. Sullivan promptly got into trouble with the sheriff by

re-jailing a man whom he found outside, holding a reception with his

friends, when the State had paid a reward for his capture. Sullivan

and the sheriff both drew guns, but were kept apart, and the District

Judge, who seemed to have been a sort of honorary "Buzzard," holding

his office by virtue of society favor, undertook to get rid of Sullivan

236
by sending him a long way off, after some witness supposed to be

wanted; though why they should want any witness, in a court like that,

would be hard to guess.

Captain Bill himself now came down to look over the field. He had

his hands full from the start. When he arrived, Rangers Barker and

Neil were patrolling the town with guns, while a number of citizens

similarly armed were collected about the streets.

"Hello, Dud," he said, "are you-all going to war?"

"Looks like it, Cap," returned Barker.

Captain Bill looked over at the armed citizens, and raised his voice

loud enough for them to hear.

"Well, Dud, if that's the best they can do," he said, "we can lick 'em,

can't we?"

"Yes, sir, if you say so, Cap."

The armed citizens showed a reluctance in the matter of hostilities

and began to edge away. McDonald now got his mail and reviewed the

situation, for prior to his coming he had scarcely known what the

237
trouble in San Saba was all about. By and by he went to his hotel. It

was about ten o'clock and he was sitting out in front, when he saw

flashes and heard shots across the public square. The mob was shooting

up the town for his benefit. Captain Bill seized his gun and went up

there. The main disturbance seemed to be in and about a saloon. The

Ranger Captain pushed into the place alone, compelled every man of the

assembly to put up his hands and allow himself to be disarmed. He then

required them to appear for examination, next morning. They did appear,

and were discharged, of course, but, nevertheless, it was evident that

a man who would not be scared and who was not afraid to do things, was

among them. Members of the society felt a chill of uneasiness. Worthy

citizens, heretofore silent through fear of their lives and property,

began to take heart.

McDonald now interviewed the sheriff and county officials in general

and delivered his opinion of them, individually and collectively,

concluding with the statement that he would bring Sullivan back as soon

as a message and steam would get him. The sheriff replied that Sullivan

and he could not stay in the same town.

"Then move," said Captain Bill. "The county will be rid of one damned

rascal. It will be rid of more before I get through here."

Captain Bill went to Austin, himself, after Sullivan, so that there

238
might be no mistake about his coming. He presented the case to Governor

Culberson and got his sanction, then sent word to his men at San Saba

to meet them, and he arrived with Sullivan, promptly on time. He had

expected that there would be a demonstration by the sheriff and his

friends, instead of which the streets of the little town were deserted.

Perhaps the sheriff and his party had given out that war was imminent

and this was the result.

It was clear now that to obtain evidence and convictions under such

conditions as they prevailed in San Saba was going to be a long, slow

job. With officials incriminated and good citizens intimidated; with

witnesses ready to come forward and swear anything in defense of the

murderers, knowing they would be upheld in their perjury, the securing

of good testimony and subsequent justice would be difficult.

The Rangers went into camp in a picturesque spot on the banks of the

San Saba River, a mile from town; pitched their tents under the shelter

of some immense pecan trees; arranged their "chuck boards," staked

their horses and made themselves generally comfortable. Then they

posted sentinels (for a fusillade from the society was likely to come

at any time), and settled down to business. Evidently they had come to

stay. The society postponed its meetings.

Captain Bill now began doing quiet detective work, a labor for which

239
he has a natural aptitude; anybody can see from the shape of his

ears and nose, and from the ferret look of his eyes that this would

be so. Good citizens took further courage and came to the camp with

information. The Ranger Captain looked over the field and undertook a

case particularly coldblooded and desperate.

A man named Brown, one of the society's early victims, had been hanged

by that mob some ten or twelve years before, and his son Jim, though

he had never attempted to avenge his father's death, had fallen under

the ban. Jim Brown never even made any threats, but he must have been

regarded as a menace, for one Sunday night while riding from church

with his wife and her brother, he was shot dead from ambush; his wife,

whose horse became frightened and ran within range, also receiving a

painful wound.

Captain Bill secured information which convinced him that one Bill

Ogle had been the chief instigator in this crime, and that the father

and brother of Brown's wife were likewise members of the society and

concerned in the plot. He learned, in fact, that the plan had been

for Mrs. Brown's brother to ride with her, and for her father, Jeff

McCarthy, to carry her baby by a different route to keep it out of

danger. The brother, Jim McCarthy, was to stay close to his sister, to

look after her horse and keep her out of harm's way while her husband

was being murdered. It was due to the fact that Jim McCarthy did not

240
perform his work well, that the sister was wounded. McDonald in due

course uncovered the whole dastardly plot.

The murderers now realized that trouble was in store for them. Some of

the men began quietly to leave the country. Others consulted together

in secluded places and plotted to "kill Bill McDonald." Sympathizing

citizens encouraged this movement, and anonymous warnings--always the

first resort of frightened criminals--began to arrive in the Ranger

camp. Captain Bill paid no attention to such communications; he was

used to them. He went on gathering and solidifying his evidence,

preparatory to the arrest of Ogle and such of his associates as the

proofs would warrant. Ogle, the "tiger" of the society, as he was

considered, McDonald had not yet seen, for the reason that the tiger

did not live in the town, and for some cause had lately avoided those

precincts. He arrived, however, in due season. Perhaps the brotherhood

let him know that it was time he was taking a hand in the game.

Captain McDonald, one hot afternoon, was talking to an acquaintance on

the streets of San Saba, when he noticed a stout surly-looking man,

with the village constable, not far away. Now and then they looked and

nodded in his direction and presently an uncomplimentary name drifted

to his ear.

"Who is that fellow talking to that sorry constable?" he asked.

241
His companion lowered his voice to a discreet whisper.

"That is Bill Ogle," he said, "the worst man of the murder mob."

Captain Bill looked pleased.

"Good-by," he nodded, "I want to see Bill Ogle."

He stepped briskly in the direction of the two men who, seeing him

approach, separated and loafed off in different directions. Captain

Bill overhauled the constable.

"See here," he said composedly, "I heard you call me a name a while

ago when you were talking to that murderer, Bill Ogle, who is going

down the street yonder. Now, an officer that throws in with a murder

mob, ain't worth what it would cost to try, and hang, and if I hear any

more names out of you I'll save this country the expense of one rope,

anyway."

The constable attempted to mutter some denial. Captain Bill left him

abruptly with only a parting word of advice and set off down the

street after Ogle. Ogle had crossed the street and passed through the

court-house to a hardware store on the other side--where a number of

242
his friends had collected.

"Don't go over there, Captain," cautioned his friend, "you'll be

killed, sure."

"Well, I'll go over and see," Captain Bill replied quaintly,

continuing straight toward the mob store.

As he entered there was a little stir, then silence. Evidently those

present had not expected that he would walk straight among them. Here

he was--they could kill him and put an end to all this trouble in short

order. But somehow they didn't do it. There seemed no good moment to

begin. Captain Bill walked over and faced Ogle.

"Come outside," he said quietly, "I want to talk to you."

Ogle hesitated.

"What do you want to say?" he asked sullenly.

Captain Bill laid his hand on Ogle's shoulder.

"I want to say some things that you might not want your friends

to hear," he said--and a quaver in his voice then would have been

243
death--"Come outside!"

He applied a firm pressure to Ogle's shoulder and steered him for the

door. The others, as silent as death, made no move. They did not offer

to interfere--they did not attempt to shoot. They simply looked on,

wondering.

Outside, Captain Bill led Ogle to the middle of the street. It was

blazing hot and the sand burned through his boots, but he could talk to

Ogle out there and keep an eye on the others, too.

"Now, Bill Ogle," he said, in his deliberate calm way--"I know all

about you. I know how you and your outfit murdered Jim Brown--just how

you planned it, and how you did it. I've got all the proof and I'm

going to hang you if there is any law in this country to hang a man for

a foul murder like that. That's what I'm here for, and I am not afraid

of you, nor of any of the men over there in that store that helped you

do your killing. You are all a lot of cowardly murderers that only

shoot defenseless men from ambush, and I'm going to stay here until I

break up your gang if I have to put you every one on the gallows or

behind the bars, and I'm going to begin with you."

As Captain Bill talked the sweat began to pour off of Ogle and his

knees seemed to weaken. Presently they could no longer support his

244
stout body and he sat heavily down in the hot sand, trying weakly to

make some defense.

"Get up," said Captain Bill, "haven't you got your gun?"

"No, sir, Captain, I haven't."

"Well, you'd better get one if you're going to go hunting for me. And

there's the men over there who helped you kill Jim Brown, and your

Greaser-lookin' constable and your sorry sheriff. Get your whole crowd

together, and get ready and then I'll gather in the whole bunch. Go on,

now, and see what you can do."

"Yes, sir, Captain."

Ogle made several attempts to get on his feet, finally succeeded, and

went back to his friends. Captain Bill immediately set about getting

out a warrant for his arrest, but after some delay, found he could

not get the papers until next morning. Ogle, meantime, had been to his

friend, the District Judge, who now appeared before the Ranger Captain

with the statement that Ogle, whom he believed to be a square man, had

said he wanted to leave the country for fear McDonald would kill him;

McDonald, he said, having the reputation of being a killer and a bad

man generally.

245
"Yes, Judge," said Captain Bill, "that's the proper reputation to give

me, so that some of your crowd of murderers can assassinate me and

your court can deliver a verdict that I was a bad citizen and ought to

have been killed sooner, the way you've done about all the rest of the

forty-three that have been murdered and no one tried for it in this

section. Now, I intend to see that he don't leave this country, unless

he leaves it in shackles. He committed this murder, and I can prove it.

I've got one of the members of the mob as a witness."

"You will stir up old trouble and get things in worse shape than ever,"

protested the judge.

"If I can't get things in better shape, I'll lay down my hand," said

McDonald.

A little later, on the street, Captain Bill saw Ogle approaching. He

was armed this time--with a big watermelon. He approached humbly.

"Captain," he said, "you've done me a great wrong, and I want you to

accept this watermelon."

Captain Bill did not know whether to laugh or to swear. Presently he

said:

246
"You scoundrel! I suppose that thing is poisoned. I believe I'll make

you eat it, rind and all."

Ogle backed away with his melon and presently set out for home. Fearing

now that he would escape before the warrant could be issued, Captain

McDonald instructed Rangers McCauley, Barker, Neil and Bell, members

of his camp, to keep watch, and if Ogle attempted to leave the county

to hold him until he (McDonald) could arrive with the proper papers.

These were obtained next morning, about ten o 'clock, and Captain Bill

starting out with them, met his Rangers with Ogle, who had, in fact,

attempted to escape. He was taken to jail and a strong guard was set.

Consternation now prevailed among the society and its friends; in

the cowboy term they were "milling." Members of the mob were to turn

State's evidence; one Josh McCormick, who had been made a member by

compulsion--having run into one of their meetings--had been brought

from an adjoining county and would testify; a grand jury composed of

exemplary citizens had been secured.

And that was not all. Captain Bill one day went to the District Judge,

ostensibly for advice.

"Judge," he said, "I want some legal information."

247
The judge was attentive, and took him to a quiet place.

"Now, Judge," said Captain Bill, "you know that the Buzzard Water

Hole mob holds its meetings over there once a month, and the monthly

meeting is about due. You know that they meet there to decide to kill

somebody or to run him out of the country and take his property, and

that they've already done such deviltry as that here for years."

The judge assented uneasily.

"Well, then," continued the Ranger Captain, "I want to know if it will

be all right for me to charge in there on that meeting with my Rangers

and kill any of them that might make any resistance, and round up the

rest and drive them into town and put them in jail--just drive them

afoot like a lot of cattle and let their horses be sent for, later;

would that be all right, Judge?"

The District Judge was a good deal disturbed.

"No, Captain," he said, "I don't think you'd better undertake that, I

should advise against such a move."

"Well, Judge," said Captain Bill, "that's exactly what I propose to do.

248
I'll take chances on the results and I'll bring in the prettiest bunch

of murderers you'll find anywhere. Good-day, Judge, and thank you for

the advice."

However, this program was not carried out--not in full. There was no

material with which to make it complete. Within a brief time from his

talk with the District Judge, Captain Bill's purpose was known to every

member of the mob. It was a time to take to tall timber and high trees.

The society adjourned _sine die_.

The Rangers did, however, visit the Buzzard's Water Hole at the time

when the mob meeting was due. Not a soul was to be found anywhere. Then

knowing certain members of the gang, and having learned the society

signals, Captain Bill and his men went riding over the country from

house to house, halting outside to call "Hello!----Hello! Hello!"

which was a signal call between members of the society. In reply to

each such call a door opened and a man came out quickly, only to find

the Rangers, who inquired if he were going to attend the meeting at

Buzzard's Water Hole; whereupon, as Captain Bill put it later, "they

like to died," and vigorously pretended ignorance of the meaning of the

"Hello" signal. Next morning the Rangers were back in San Saba, and

when the news came in that they had been around calling on mob members

there was not only anxiety, but mystery, for some of these members of

the society lived a distance of twenty-five miles away. But a fifty or

249
seventy-five mile ride in a night on an errand of that kind was merely

a little diversion, to a Ranger.

The grand jury's work was difficult. It found indictments against many

of the assassins, but the district judge made an effort to annul most

of these actions on one ground and another, and to trump up charges

against the Rangers. McDonald finally gave this official a lecture

which he probably remembers yet, if he is alive. About the same time

one of the gang leveled a Winchester at Ranger Barker, who with his

revolver shot him five times before he could pull the trigger, and was

promptly cleared--all of which had a wholesome effect on the community

as a whole.

With the arrest of Ogle, the anonymous letters became very terrible

indeed. Captain Bill had brought his wife to the San Saba camp for the

winter, and one morning appeared before her with one of these letters

in his hand.

"Well, I've got to leave San Saba," he said.

"Why," she asked. "Has the Governor ordered you away?"

"No, the Governor hasn't, but read this."

250
He handed her the letter which informed him that if he did not leave

San Saba in two days he would be filled so full of lead that it would

require a freight train to haul him to the graveyard. Rhoda McDonald

read the communication through. Then she said:

"Bill Jess, if you leave here on account of a thing like that, _I'll_

leave _you_."

"Well," said Captain Bill, sorrowfully, "I seem to be in a mighty bad

fix. If I stay, I'll be filled with bullets, and if I go, I'll lose my

wife. I s'pose I'll have to stay."

The examining trial of Bill Ogle was an event in San Saba. Josh

McCormick was chief witness for the State, and was a badly scared man,

in spite of the fact that the Rangers had taken him to their camp and

guaranteed him protection from the members of the Buzzard's Water Hole

crowd. Other witnesses on both sides were frightened enough, for nobody

knew what might happen before this thing ended. It was the program

of the mob forces, of which Ogle and his lawyers were the acting

principals, to impeach the State's witnesses and thus break down their

evidence before the court, as was their custom. Unfortunately for them

they selected as one of their perjurers old Jeff McCarthy, father of

Brown's wife, himself accessory to the crime for which Ogle was being

tried. Captain Bill knew of McCarthy's relation to the affair, though

251
the evidence had not been sufficient for his indictment. Furthermore,

Captain Bill believed that the old man, like McCormick, whose uncle

he was, had been forced into the band, and had acted under compulsion

throughout.

McCormick was placed on the stand, and told what he knew about the

society and its crimes in general, and about the killing of Jim Brown

in particular. His absolute knowledge did not extend to the connection

of the two McCarthy's with the killing, and they were not mentioned in

his evidence. When he left the stand, a number of nervous witnesses

were called by the other side to swear that they would not believe him

on oath. Finally old Jeff McCarthy was reached. He was frightened and

trembling and in a wretched state altogether. Captain Bill watched him

closely while he was making his statement concerning the worthless

character of his nephew, McCormick, and the old man shifted and

twisted to evade those eyes that were piercing his very soul. Now and

then the Ranger Captain leaned toward him and lifted his finger like

the index of fate, prompting the District Attorney meantime as to what

questions to put to the witness. The old man became more and more

confused and miserable, and when at last he was excused he tottered

from the stand. He lingered about the place, however, seemingly unable

to leave, and by and by, when court adjourned for the day, McDonald

found him just outside the door, with others of his kind.

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"Jeff," Captain Bill said in his calm drawl, "you did not tell the

truth on the stand; you know every word you said was a lie."

Old Jeff McCarthy gasped, tried to get his words, gasped again and

failed.

"I don't blame you so much," Captain Bill went on, "for you were afraid

this mob would kill you if you didn't testify according to orders--now,

wasn't you?"

Again the wretched old man made an effort to reply, but he was past

speech.

Captain Bill's finger was pinning him fast.

"They frightened you and made you join their gang, didn't they? And now

you would like to get out, but you don't know how--ain't that so?"

The old man was on the verge of utter collapse. He backed off and slunk

away. After that Old Jeff haunted the Ranger Camp and finally when he

could stand it no longer made full confession to Captain Bill of his

connection with the mob, revealing the mob's secrets, its signs and

passwords, the names of its members and its gruesome oath.

253
"They will kill me," he said, "but I don't care. I'm happier now than

I've been for years!"

"I don't reckon they'll try that," said Captain Bill. "That thing's

about over, around here."

They formed a guard, and escorted the old man home, for he was full of

fear.

When the court of examination adjourned, Ogle was held without bail.

Through the efforts of District Attorney Lynden it was decided to

transfer Ogle's case to Llano County for final trial, Lynden making

his fight for this change on the grounds that no fair trial could be

obtained in the San Saba court.

In Llano County, Ogle's case was fairly tried, and he received a life

sentence. Two accessories to the killing of Brown, were arrested, but

just then war was declared with Spain; the Rangers were hastily ordered

off to protect the Rio Grande frontier, where a Mexican incursion was

expected, and without Captain Bill to keep up the vigorous action, and

a sharp oversight on the witness stand, convictions were not obtainable.

However, the San Saba campaign was a success. The society that murdered

men for spite, or gain, or pastime, no longer existed. When the next

254
election of county officials came around the old lot was wiped out

clean, and men of character and probity came into power. The roads

that led to the Bad Lands were kept dusty with the emigration of men

who had formerly gathered at Buzzard's Water Hole, and in their stead

came those who would give to San Saba nobler enterprise and worthier

fame. Eight Rangers were among the new blood that came to rehabilitate

San Saba County. That long winter of '97-98 had not been altogether

spent in chasing criminals. These eight had found wives, or rumors of

wives; in due time they were all married, and with eight established

resident Rangers, how could any county help becoming as serene and safe

as a Sunday-school? Ranger Edgar Neil was elected sheriff; Ollie Perry

was chosen constable; Dud Barker, Ed. Donnelly, Forest Edwards and Bob

McClure also settled in San Saba, and caused Company B to go recruiting

for Rangers.

Bill Ogle is still in the Penitentiary at Huntsville, Texas. As late as

May, 1908, he wrote to Captain McDonald as follows:

"Huntsville, Texas, 5/21/08.

"Capt. W.J. McDonald,

"Austin, Texas.

"Dear Sir:

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"It has come to my ears from some of my friends, who have recently

visited Austin in my behalf, that you are bitterly opposed to my

being released from the Penitentiary. I regret very much that you are

taking this stand against me. My friends also told me that one of your

reasons of being in opposition to my release was, that you had fears

of your own life, should I be pardoned.

"Capt. McDonald, I want to assure you that I have no feeling of

bitterness against you, and you may rest assured, that I would never

harm you in the least or try to injure you in any way, should I regain

my liberty. I feel that in doing what you did, you were doing your

duty as an officer.

"My conduct in the Penitentiary ought to be a guarantee to you of my

intention to lead a correct life, when I get out, and I feel, that if

you will investigate my standing here, and find out what the officers

here think about me, you will be convinced of this.

"I trust that you will reconsider this matter, and soften your heart

in my case, and you may rest assured, that I will appreciate anything

you will do for me as long as life shall last.

"I would be pleased to hear from you, and I hope that you will give me

256
some little encouragement.

"Thanking you in advance for anything you may say or do for me, I am,

"Yours respectfully,

"WILL OGLE."

Captain McDonald's reply to Ogle's letter was, in part, as follows:

"Austin, Texas, June 4, 1908.

"Mr. Bill Ogle,

"Huntsville, Penitentiary.

"Dear Sir:

"Your letter of the 21st inst. received, and contents duly and

carefully noted.

"I note what you say in regard to what your friends say about my

opposing your pardon, claiming that in case of your release I had

fears of my own life. Now, Bill, ... my advice to you is to make a

clear truthful statement, giving all the facts connected with numerous

murders committed by this mob, and thereby secure your liberty.

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"You know I'm not in the Ranger service now, and it makes no

difference to me who is released, and I so notified the Board of

Pardons.

"You say you have no feeling of bitterness against me, and that you

would not attempt to harm me. You can rest assured that I have no

fears in that line. I only did my duty as an officer, as you say I

did, and I have no animosity against you; and would not have gone

before the Board of Pardons, had I not been sent for.

"I understand your conduct has been all right while in jail, and in

the Penitentiary, and I am sorry that your conduct wasn't better

before you got into that mob, because you know that was an awful

thing. Now, don't you?

"You asked me to consider this matter, and that you will appreciate it

as long as life shall last. I certainly will not utter any protest,

unless the Governor asks me what I know about it, and I'll then tell

the truth about it.

"Very respectfully,

W.J. MCDONALD."

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What Captain Bill had said before the Board of Pardons was:

"I don't know the gentleman that is presenting this petition and

making this talk to you, but I do know the names of a good many of

those signers, and I know Bill Ogle is guilty of this murder, and I

know that a good many of these other fellows ought to be where Bill is

now."

XXX

Quieting a Texas Feud

THE REECE-TOWNSEND TROUBLE, AND HOW THE FACTIONS WERE

ONCE DISMISSED BY

CAPTAIN MCDONALD

As the old century drew near its end, a wave of disorder and crime that

amounted to an inundation swept over the eastern and south-eastern

portion of Texas. Murders, lynchings, mobs and rumors of mobs, were

reported daily. The Pan-handle, even in its palmiest days, had been

259
a Young Men's Christian Association as compared with the older, more

thickly settled portions of the State. In the Pan-handle, crime was

likely to be of a primitive, elemental kind-the sort of crime that

flourished in the old, old days when the Patriarchs pastured their

flocks on a hundred hills and protected them with a club.

In the long-settled districts to the eastward, crime had ripened,

as it were, and manifested itself in more finished forms. Feuds had

developed, and race prejudice. Communities had been established which

found it necessary to hang their only respectable citizens in order

to preserve peace. In other places old ladies, supposed to have a few

hundred dollars, were murdered by relatives who could not wait for them

to die. These are the things that come only with long settlement, and

where certain human impulses have been carefully bred and nourished.

The Reece-Townsend feud in Colorado County gave the State no end of

trouble. The Reece and Townsend families killed one another in the

regulation way, when good opportunities offered. They had a fashion

of gathering in the streets of Columbus, the county seat, for their

demonstrations, and sometimes on a field-day like that they killed

members of other families, by mistake. But errors of this sort were not

allowed to interfere with the central idea of the feud; they apologized

and went on killing one another, just the same.

260
It was when a boy who belonged to neither faction was shot and killed,

at one of these reunions, that Captain Bill McDonald and his Rangers

were ordered to Columbus to put down what seemed about to become a

general war.

Captain Bill failed to receive the order in time to get his men the

same day, but did not wait. He wired two to follow him on first train

and set out for Columbus alone. Arriving on the streets of Columbus he

saw detachments of armed men gathered here and there--the streets being

otherwise deserted. He set out at once for the home of District Judge

Kennon to whom he had been ordered to report. After the exchange of

greetings, McDonald said:

"We haven't much time, Judge, from appearances. I saw a lot of armed

men as I came along, and it looks like we're going to have war."

"You are right," Judge Kennon said, "we are expecting it any minute.

Where are your men, and how many have you?"

"None, Judge. I came alone, but I expect two in the morning."

"In the morning! Why, man, by that time the fight will be over! And

what can you do with two men here? Nothing less than twenty-five or

thirty will help this case."

261
"Judge," said Captain Bill, in his deliberate way, "I believe I can

stop this thing if you will come down to the court-house with me.

Anyhow, it's my duty to try; and we'd better be getting over there,

now, Judge, for this ain't going to wait long. If we can't stop it we

can see a mighty good fight, anyhow."

They set out together. The court-house in Columbus stands in the middle

of a big square, with a street on each of its four sides. On one corner

of the square, was gathered the Reece faction, and near another corner

the Townsend crowd had assembled. Both were fully armed. They were

making no active demonstrations as yet, but were evidently organizing

for business. It was a still, sunny summer day, and both crowds were in

easy calling distance of the court-house.

"Now, Judge," said Captain Bill, when they had arrived at the

court-house, "who is your sheriff, and where is he."

"His name is Burford, J.C. Burford, and he's over there with the

Townsend crowd. He belongs to that faction."

Captain Bill stepped to the window and called in the strong official

manner of a witness summons: "J.C. Burford," repeated three times.

262
There was a movement in the Townsend crowd and a man crossed over and

ascended the court-house stair. McDonald introduced himself, as the

sheriff entered, and added:

"Now, Mr. Burford, why don't you stop this row? Looks as if we're going

to have a killing match here, right away."

"Captain, I can't. I'm powerless to do anything with these men. If I

undertake to disarm them, it will start a fight that nobody can stop."

"Well, Burford, if you'll do as I tell you, I'll stop it in thirty

minutes or I'll resign my job as Ranger."

"All right, Captain, I'll do whatever you say," assented Burford.

"Then call your crowd over here. I want to talk to them."

Sheriff Burford stepped to the window and signed to the Townsend

faction. They trooped over and ascended the court-house stair, carrying

their guns.

"Mr. Burford," said McDonald, "which are your regular deputies here?"

The sheriff indicated his three deputy officers. Captain Bill motioned

263
them to stand apart from the others.

"Now, Sheriff," he said, "disarm the rest of these men."

The officer looked a little bewildered.

"I don't know about that," he began.

"Didn't you agree to do what I ordered?" Then, to Kennon--"Didn't he,

Judge?"

The judge nodded. The sheriff still hesitated.

"Never mind," said McDonald, "I'll do it myself. Here, boys," he went

on in his mild friendly drawl, "come in here and stack your guns in

this wardrobe. It's a good safe place for them. They won't be likely to

go off and hurt anybody, in there."

What was it about the manner of the man that made men obey? Those

aroused, bloodthirsty Texans, full of an old deep hatred and the spirit

of revenge, marched in and put away their guns at his direction, with

scarcely a word of dissent.

"I don't blame you-all for having your guns until now," Captain Bill

264
went on, as he locked the wardrobe and took the key. "But we want to

stop this war if we can. It ain't good for the population. Now, I'll

just go over and look after the other crowd."

He went out of the court-house, and crossed the street to where the

Reece crowd was gathered. He carried his Winchester and the faction

watched him curiously as he approached.

"I guess you boys are going to war, ain't you?" he said cheerfully as

he came nearer.

Nobody replied, and Captain Bill came up close.

"Boys," he said, "your guns are all right, up till now, but the

Governor has sent me down here to stop this trouble, and I want you-all

to help me."

"How can we help you?" asked one of the Reece faction.

"Like them boys did over yonder, just now--by giving up your guns. Then

by going quietly home."

There was a little murmur of dissent and one big husky fellow said:

265
"Well, you'll play hell getting my gun!"

In less than an instant, a Winchester was under his nose and Captain

Bill was crisply saying:

"I will, hey? Well I'll just put you in jail, anyway, to show you how

easy it is to do _that_."

The big fellow gave a great jump and nearly fell over with surprise and

fright. His gun dropped as if it had been hot. The leader of the Reece

faction spoke up quickly.

"Boys, he is right," he said. "The Governor sent him here, and he's

obeying orders. He has no interest in one side or the other."

McDonald marched the Reeces over to a store, nearby, where they laid

down their guns, and the clerk was ordered to take charge of them.

The big man under arrest promised all manner of things if Captain

Bill would let him go. He was set free, with a warning. Peace now

seemed to be restored, and in the general gratitude of the community,

refreshments and invitations were tendered to Captain Bill from both

sides. He decided, however, to remain on duty during the rest of the

day and night. His two men arrived next morning, but everything was

still quiet, and there appeared no sign of a renewal of hostilities.

266
The Reece-Townsend trouble, for the time, at least, was over.[10]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 10: Report of Adjutant-General Thomas Scurry of Texas (1899):

"During the month of March, 1899, Captain McDonald and two men were

ordered to Columbus, Colorado County, for the purpose of preventing

trouble between the Townsend and Reece factions. Captain McDonald went

alone, his men not being able to reach him in time, and his courage

and cool behavior prevented a conflict between the two factions." For

fuller official details of this and other work of that period, see

Appendix B.]

XXXI

The Trans-cedar Mystery

THE LYNCHING OF THE HUMPHREYS AND WHAT HAPPENED TO THE

LYNCHERS

267
Captain McDonald was still at Columbus when he received a telegram

ordering him to report at once to Assistant Attorney General Morris and

the local officials at Athens, Henderson County, Texas, for the purpose

of investigating the lynching of three respectable citizens--a father

and two sons, named Humphrey--in a timbered tract between Trinity River

and Cedar Creek, known as the Trans-cedar Bottoms.

Henderson County is in East Texas, and the Trans-cedar Bottoms

constitute just the locality and neighborhood for a murder of the

Humphrey kind. Shut-in, thickly timbered and lonely--it is a place for

low morals to become lower with each generation--for scant intellect

to become scantier--for darkened minds to become darker and more

impervious to pity, indeed to any human impulse except crime.

The Humphreys had not fitted an environment like that. They were

honest, sturdy men--fearless and open in their dealings. They were a

menace to a gang who made moonshine whisky, stole whatever they could

lay hands on and would swear a man's life away for a lean hog. It was

necessary for the welfare of the neighborhood that the Humphreys be

disposed of, and they were taken by a mob one night and hanged--three

of them to one tree--they having been placed upon horses and the horses

driven from under them. Then, when the ropes had proven too long, and

the feet of the three Humphreys had touched the ground, the mob had

268
bent back the legs of the victims at the knee and tied the feet upward

to the hands, so that the Humphreys might swing clear.

Bill McDonald knew something of the Trans-cedar country, and the

character of its settlement, for, as we have seen in a former chapter,

he had passed his youth and his early manhood at Henderson and at

Mineola, both within seventy-five miles of that very district. He set

out alone by first train, and arriving at Athens, learned the details

of the ghastly crime which already, through the telegraphed reports,

had stirred the entire State. He learned that the lynching had taken

place about twenty-five miles from Athens, near a little post-office

named Aley, and he hurried to that place, without delay, taking with

him one Guy Green, an Athens lawyer, familiar with the neighborhood.

With Green, the Ranger went straight to the scene of the murder and

made an examination of the tracks and various clues that remained.

Two days had passed since the crime, and many of the signs had been

obliterated. Still there were enough for a man with the faculties

of Captain Bill. He identified no less than four trails--one, as he

decided, made by five horses; another by three; a third by two, and

a fourth the track of a single horse. The trails wound in and out,

crossed and recrossed, and were evidently made with the idea of balking

pursuit. Captain McDonald did not consider them especially difficult,

and having satisfied himself that they could be followed, he went on to

Aley, for it was near nightfall.

269
At Aley he joined Assistant Attorney General Ned Morris; District

Attorney Jerry Crook; Tom Bell, sheriff of Bell County, and Ben.

E. Cabell, sheriff of Dallas County, who had come over to aid the

investigation. He was assured that the work was going to be hard--that

the greater portion of the inhabitants were either in sympathy with

the lynchers or were so much in terror of them that it would be almost

impossible to get direct evidence. Captain Bill looked thoughtful as he

listened.

"Well," he said, "I'm going to stay here till I get it, and I'm going

after it just like I was going for a doctor. You can give it out that I

mean business and that nobody need to be afraid to testify. I'll take

care of them."

He discussed the case with the officials and learned that one Joe

Wilkerson was suspected as having been connected with the murder--it

being well-known that Wilkerson had pursued the Humphreys and

bemeaned them; finally accusing them of stealing hogs, and swearing

to some meat which the Humphreys had earned by digging wells. In the

evidence it had developed that the Wilkerson hogs, though mortgaged

by him, had in reality been sold, and that he had thus attempted to

evade the consequences of this illegal act by saddling the Humphreys

with a still heavier crime. The Humphreys had not been convicted, but

270
Wilkerson had never ceased to vilify them. Later, one of the Humphrey

boys, George, had been set upon by some of the Wilkerson crowd and in

defending himself had killed, with a knife, one of his assailants. The

courts--there were honest courts in Athens--had cleared him, but in

the Trans-cedar tribunal he had been doomed. These facts constituted

about all the foundation of known motive upon which McDonald would have

to build his evidence. It was while he was discussing these things

with the attorneys on the night of his arrival that a man rode up to

the gate just outside and called his name. Captain Bill rose, but the

others protested, declaring that it might be a plot to shoot him in the

dark. However, he went, six-shooter in hand, and sticking it in the

face of the caller, demanded his business. The man protested that he

meant no harm, but had come from one Buck Holley, who lived two miles

down the road and said he knew Captain McDonald and wanted to see him.

The Ranger Captain reflected a minute.

"I don't know any Buck Holley," he said. "I knew a scoundrel by the

name of Bill Holley some years ago up in the Pan-handle, and if that is

who it is I don't want to see him. I judge you fellows have got a gang

down the road there to shoot me from ambush. Who are you, anyway?"

The man said his name was Monasco; that he was staying at Holley's and

that he had a brother named Bill Monasco, in Amarillo.

271
"I know Bill Monasco," McDonald said, "and he has a brother that was

sent to the penitentiary. Is that you?"

The visitor acknowledged that he was the man--that he had been recently

released.

"Well," said McDonald, "that's about the kind of a crowd that I would

expect to find Bill Holley running with, and you can tell this _Buck_

Holley, as you call him, that I suspect him of being connected with

this mob, and that I used to make him stand hitched in the Pan-handle,

and that I'm going to do the same here."

Monasco said "good-night," and Captain McDonald never saw him again.

Somewhat later, when he met Bill Holley on the streets of Athens, he

said:

"Look here, Bill, I'm afraid your partner, Monasco, didn't tell you the

message I sent the night I came. I said I didn't know Buck Holley, but

that I knew a sorry bulldozing scoundrel by the name of Bill Holley,

and that I supposed he was down the road there to take a shot at me

from ambush. You weren't in this lynching mob, I reckon, but they're

your friends, and you'd help 'em if you could. Now, Bill, you've been

courting a funeral a good while, and if you try any of your nonsense

here, you'll win out."

272
He searched Holley for weapons and relieved him of a big pocket-knife,

the bully protesting that he was no longer a bad man. Captain Bill

learned, however, that he had recently whipped his wife, taken her

clothes and driven her away from home, and later had attempted to kill

her father for interfering in her behalf.

The Ranger Captain was out early the morning after his arrival in

Aley, and on the trail. The tracks of the five horses were followed

to the houses of Joe Wilkerson and his tenant, and to the homes of

John and Arthur Greenhaw. In Wilkerson's lot the officers found part

of a well-rope, the remainder of which had been cut away. It matched

precisely with the rope used to hang the Humphreys--the freshly cut

ends being the same on both. The Wilkersons and one of the Greenhaws

were taken into custody forthwith, and other arrests followed, as the

criminals were tracked home.

But it was hard to get evidence. A few who were anxious to testify,

hesitated through fear. Others, subpœnaed and examined, were evidently

in sympathy with the mob and withheld their knowledge accordingly.

Captain Bill had been reinforced by Private Olds from Company C, and

now began systematic investigation. He established his court of

inquiry under a brush arbor--a framework of poles, with brush a-top to

keep out the sun--and there for two months held high inquisition. It

273
was a curious, exclusive court. The Ranger Captain gave it out that he

would invite such attendance as he needed, and that mere spectators

would kindly remain away. His wishes were heeded.

Little by little evidence collected. Men willing to testify gained

confidence from Captain Bill's assurance of protection and told what

they knew. Men unwilling to testify found themselves unable to hide

their facts where they could not be reached by the keen persuasive

probing of the man with those ferret eyes, that quiet voice and those

alert extended ears. The testimony brought out the facts the Humphreys

had known of an illicit still run by two men--one Polk Weeks and a man

named Johns. Also that they had known of John Greenhaw stealing cattle

and hogs, and that John Greenhaw had once drawn a gun on the elder

Humphrey, who had taken it away from him, unloaded and returned it,

instead of killing him with it and rendering the community a service.

These things, added to the other provocations already named, had

made the Humphreys sufficiently unpopular in a neighborhood like the

Trans-cedar Bottoms to warrant their being hung to a limb, trussed up

to swing clear of the ground.

In the course of time, practically every resident of that district

had been before the brush-arbor court of inquiry, and if a shorthand

report had been taken of that testimony it would have furnished

material for many a character study and tale of fiction.

274
Guilty knowledge of the crime actually killed a man named Eli Sparks,

whose conscience tortured him day and night to the point of giving

testimony, yet whose fears upon the witness stand caused him to

withhold the truth. He was a large red-faced man, evidently greatly

excited when questioned, and concealing more than he told. Soon after

his first examination he met Captain McDonald and offered to testify

again, saying that he had been too frightened to tell the truth, the

first time, but thought he could do better, now. The Ranger Captain

scrutinized him keenly and made the prophecy that Eli Sparks would not

live thirty days, unless he got rid of the load on his conscience. He

died in just half that time; not, however, until he had fully confessed

a complete knowledge of the details of preparation for the crime, and

how once he had gone with the mob when they had intended hanging the

Humphreys, but for some reason had postponed the event. The poor wretch

did not go the second time, but his guilt nevertheless dragged him to

the grave.

Another who came to the brush-arbor inquiry was a banker who testified

that the Humphreys had received their just deserts for the reason that

they were thieves and should have been hung long before.

"How did _you_ come to escape, then?" asked McDonald. "I understand

that you were once indicted for cattle-stealing yourself, and that you

275
actually got the cattle. Is that so?"

Under severe pressure the witness admitted that there had been such a

charge and that the cattle had by some means got into his possession.

He got away at last and disappeared out of the case entirely, though he

had been active up to that point.

The efforts of the men believed to be concerned as principals in the

crime, to establish their innocence, were sometimes wary, sometimes

crudely absurd, and always fruitless. The mesh of fact that was weaving

and linking itself about them became daily more tightly woven, more

impossible to tear away. Knowing themselves closely watched, they dared

not attempt flight. To do so would be to confess guilt, and capture

would be well-nigh certain. Like Ahab, having compassed the death

of a neighbor, they "lay in sackcloth and went softly." Finally it

came to pass that three of these "children of Belial" turned State's

evidence--that is, they confessed fully, sacrificing their comrades,

under the law, to save themselves. Eleven men, including these three,

were brought to trial.

Yet, conviction was not easy, in spite of the direct character of the

evidence. The accused men employed lawyers who were ready to balk at

no methods that would save their clients, and there were plenty of

witnesses willing to testify as instructed. Efforts were also made to

276
influence and coerce the State's witnesses, and McDonald found it

necessary to threaten certain counsel for the defense with subornation

proceedings, before he could get the way clear for action. Even then

it was thought advisable to transfer the cases to Palestine, in the

adjoining county, for trial--sentiment in the neighborhood of Athens

being regarded as too favorable to the accused. In the final trial

John and Arthur Greenhaw and Polk Weeks, who were not only murderers,

but cowardly traitors, were given their freedom in exchange for their

evidence that sent their eight associates to the Penitentiary for life.

Polk Weeks, in giving his evidence, appeared much disturbed, but

confessed how he had climbed the tree and tied the ropes, and tied them

too long, making it necessary for the legs of the Humphreys to be bent

upwards, to clear the ground. John Greenhaw corroborated this, but

grinned as he told it, remembering how amusing it had been. He did not

live to enjoy his freedom, for he was shot soon after his discharge by

a son of one of the murdered Humphreys--young Willie Humphrey, who was

never punished for that righteous act.[11]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 11: Extract from a letter relating to the Humphrey case,

written by Assistant Attorney General N.B. Morris to Adjutant-General

Thos. Scurry; included in the latter's Annual Report for 1899-1900.

277
"You will remember that at the request of the sheriff, county attorney,

and other local authorities of that county, Captain McDonald and

Private Old were sent to assist them and myself in the investigation

of that horrible murder which was then enshrouded in a mystery that it

seemed almost impossible to uncover. Before the Rangers reached us the

people in the neighborhood seemed afraid to talk. They said they would

be murdered, too, if they took a hand in working up the case. About the

first thing that Captain McDonald did was to assure the people that he

and his associates had come to stay until every murderer was arrested

and convicted, and that those who assisted him would be protected. They

believed him, and in consequence thereof, soon began to talk and feel

that the law would be vindicated, and I am glad to say that it was. The

work of the Rangers in this one case is worth more to the State, in my

opinion, than your department will cost during your administration. In

fact such service cannot be valued in dollars and cents."[12]]

[Footnote 12: For further official details of this and other work of

that period, see Appendix B.]

XXXII

278
Other Mobs and Riots

RANGERS AT ORANGE AND AT PORT ARTHUR. FIVE AGAINST FOUR

HUNDRED

A riot at Orange, Texas, followed the Trans-cedar episode. Orange is

a lumber town on the Sabine River in the extreme south-east portion

of Texas, and many negroes are employed in the sawmills. A white mob

composed of the tougher element in and about the city had organized,

with the purpose of driving the negroes away. The negroes received

anonymous warnings, and as they did not go immediately, were assaulted.

Some twenty or more of the mob, one dark night, surrounded a house

where a number of the colored men were assembled and opened fire,

killing one man and wounding several others. Ranger Captain Rogers

of Company E, with his men, was ordered to Orange, but soon after

his arrival, while making an arrest among desperate characters, was

disabled through injury to an old wound. Captain McDonald then came

down from Athens with Rangers Fuller, Jones, Old, McCauley, Saxon and

Bell. They lost no time in taking a firm grip on the situation and

landed twenty-one of the offenders in jail, with evidence sufficient

to convict. But it was a hard profitless work. Whatever the citizens

might want, Orange officially did not care for law and order. A gang

279
controlled the law of the community, and the order took care of itself.

Private Fuller found it necessary to kill one man who interfered with

an arrest and attempted to use a knife. Later, Fuller was summoned to

Orange, ostensibly to answer to the charge of illegal arrest, but in

reality for purposes of revenge. Captain McDonald protested to the

Governor that it was simply an excuse to get Fuller over there to kill

him.

It turned out accordingly: Fuller was washing his face in a barber shop

when the dead man's brother slipped up behind and shot him through

the head with a Winchester, killing him instantly. The assassin was

made chief deputy sheriff, as a reward, and in due time was himself

killed by the city marshal, who, in turn, was killed by the dead man's

family; which process of extermination has probably continued to this

day, and perhaps Orange has improved accordingly. There was room for

improvement. The cases against the twenty-one men arrested by Captain

Bill and his Rangers were all dismissed, as soon as the Rangers got out

of town.[13]

Port Arthur, also on the Sabine River, below Orange, is a city of oil

refineries, and is a port of entry, as its name implies, its outlet

being through Sabine Pass. In March, 1902, trouble broke out there

between the longshoremen and the operators of the refineries. As a

result the longshoremen struck, and when the operators introduced

280
Mexican laborers, the strikers, numbering about four hundred, drove

them away and issued a manifesto, declaring that no more Mexicans need

apply.

It was at this stage of the proceedings that Captain Bill was ordered

by Adjutant-General Scurry to take several men and be on hand when

the next Mexicans arrived. He took four--Privates Grude Brittain, Jim

Keeton, John Blanton and Blaze Delling--picked men--and arrived on the

ground a day in advance of the next hundred Mexicans, then on the way.

The Rangers proceeded immediately to the refineries, which are located

several miles from the city, and saw nothing of the longshoremen that

day. It was likely they would be on hand next morning when the Mexicans

would arrive. Threats had been made that these Mexicans would not be

allowed to leave the train for the refineries, and that if any such

attempt was made, blood would flow.

When the train pulled in next morning Captain Bill and his men were on

hand, fully expecting trouble. Everything was quiet, and the Mexicans

were marched by the "Rangers to the refineries and went immediately to

work. Then, there still being no sign of interference, Captain Bill

said:

"Well, boys, let's go down in town now and see what's become of the

281
mob."

The mob was not hard to find. It had assembled on the street and was a

good deal excited. Men were talking, and gesticulating, and denouncing,

in words noisy and violent. As Captain Bill and his men drew up, a

voice loud enough for them to hear said:

"There are them damned Rangers, now."

The little company of five continued to advance until within easy

talking distance; then McDonald said:

"What are you men doing here, gathered in a crowd this way, on the

street?"

A longshoreman asked:

"Are you the Rangers?"

"That's what we are," said Captain Bill.

"Come down to protect the Mexicans, I guess."

"That's what the Adjutant-General sent us for," returned Captain Bill

282
pleasantly.

"Well, we're not going to let them work."

"They're already working," smiled Captain Bill.

"How many men did you bring with you?" asked the leader of the rioters.

"Enough to whip this crowd, if a fight is what you're looking for,"

Captain Bill answered--still pleasant.

"Where are they?"

"Here," said Captain Bill, indicating his brigade of four--five with

himself.

"Hell!" said the leader of the longshoremen, "there are four hundred of

us."

"Well, that makes it just about even," drawled Captain Bill, more

pleasant than ever, "if you think you want to fight, get at it!"

The leader of the strikers looked at the little army thoughtfully. Then

he turned to the others.

283
"Boys," he said, "I think these Rangers are all right. Let's all have a

drink!"

The Rangers politely declined this invitation, but continued on

friendly terms with the strikers. There was no further trouble, and a

few days later Captain McDonald and one of his men left Port Arthur.

The remainder of his force stayed a few weeks longer, but the war was

over.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 13: For official particulars concerning this incident and

other work of that period, see Appendix B.]

XXXIII

Other Work in East Texas

DISTRICTS WHICH EVEN A RANGER FINDS HOPELESS. THE TOUCH-

STONE MURDER.

284
THE CONFESSION OF AB ANGLE

It was only a short distance--as distances go in Texas (only a hundred

miles or so, in a southeasterly direction)--from the Trans-cedar

country, made celebrated by the Humphrey lynching, to certain sections

of Walker, Houston, Madison and Trinity counties, where similar social

conditions have developed.

In Kittrell's Cut-off, for instance, and around Groveton, there has

developed a special talent for assassination. Men walking along the

road in daylight are sometimes shot from behind. When it is nightfall

the assassin may lie in wait by the roadside. If he gets the wrong man

by mistake, it is no difference--it keeps him in practice. Sometimes

the victim is called to his door at night and shot down from the dark.

These are a few of the methods for removing individuals not favorably

regarded by the active set, and many other forms of murder are adopted

or invented for particular cases. Even Captain Bill McDonald found

these districts hopeless as fields for reform, he said.

"If a whole community has no use for law and order it's not worth while

to try to enforce such things. You've got to stand over a place like

that with a gun to make it behave, and when you catch a man, no matter

what the evidence is against him, they'll turn him loose. In Groveton,

285
for instance, when I was there they had only two law-respecting

officers--the district clerk and the county attorney, and the county

attorney they killed. Good citizens were so completely in the minority

that they were helpless. Kittrell's Cut-off was probably one of the

most lawless places you could find anywhere, though it was named after

a judge. It's a strip cut off of Houston and Trinity counties and

added to Walker, and its name is the only thing about it that ever had

anything to do with the law. Many murders have been committed there and

no one ever convicted for them, so far as I know."

Captain Bill was ordered to investigate a Kittrell's Cut-off murder

during December, 1903. A man had been assassinated from ambush, in the

fashion of that section, and such attempts as had been made by the

local authorities to uncover the murderers had been without result.

But such murders had become so common there that the few respectable

citizens of the locality had decided to appeal to Governor Lanham for

aid, and their plea asked especially for Captain McDonald.

McDonald went down; looked over the ground and sent for one of his men,

Blaze Delling, to assist in handling the situation--the community

being simply infested with men of low, desperate natures. Already the

Ranger Captain had taken up the trail and had arrested three men, and

these were brought for trial.

286
What was the use? Before the final trial, the three principal witnesses

suddenly sickened and died; the District Attorney found himself without

a case; the prisoners were discharged.

It was about this time that County Attorney H.L. Robb (himself a

victim later), asked that Captain McDonald be sent to Groveton in

Trinity County to unravel the mystery surrounding the murder of an old

lady, committed about a year before. Captain Bill went reluctantly, for

he was tired of that section and cared not much for a "cold" trail at

best.

On arrival at Groveton, he learned the facts so far as known. A feeble

old lady named Touchstone, living alone, had been murdered for a

stocking full of money supposed to be hidden somewhere on the premises.

She had only a life interest in the money, anyway, but the heirs to her

trifling hoard of probably not more than a few hundred dollars, had

been impatient and had frequently demanded their shares. They were a

devilish brood, but the old lady did not seem to fear them and carried

a stout stick for defense. She had been found murdered, one afternoon,

her throat cut, and her body left lying in the dooryard, where it had

been mangled by hogs. Naturally the relatives were suspected, but thus

far no evidence had been found against them.

There was evidence enough, however, for a man who had eyes trained to

287
follow clues and to distinguish signs. In a comparatively brief time,

Captain McDonald felt warranted in causing the arrest of one Ab Angle,

and several others. Angle had married a granddaughter of the murdered

woman and all were relatives. In the course of time, Angle's heart

failed him and he confessed the crime in full. In his sworn statement,

he said:

"We all talked the matter over about going and robbing Mary Jane (Mrs.

Touchstone) and Hill Hutto said: 'Let's have an understanding.' George

Angle, Wash and Joe Tullis, Hill Hutto and Mrs. Tullis and myself (all

relatives) were to meet over at Mary Jane's to see where she kept the

money, and to get it. That was our intention--to get the money on

Saturday night. Hill Hutto was to be there when we got there. It was

just dark when we got started, and we went through the fields in an

easterly direction, in a trail through the woods.

"The understanding was that Joe Tullis and I were to do the watching,

and Joe was on one end of the gallery and I was on the other end--he

being told to watch the east end of the road, and I to watch the west

end. Hill Hutto was to be there, talking to Mary Jane, while George

Angle and Mrs. Tullis were to go in at the front, and Wash was to

go in at the back of the house. She (Mrs. Touchstone) had some meal

spread out on the floor to dry. She was sitting down--I do not know on

what--talking to Hill.

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"Mrs. Tullis said, 'Mary Jane, we have come to see whether you have

that money yet, or not.' Mary Jane started to get up, but Hill Hutto,

George Angle, Wash Tullis and Mrs. Tullis grabbed her and carried her

out on the gallery and told me and Joe to watch the road, good, and

we told her (Mrs. Tullis) we would, as far as we could see. She (Mrs.

Touchstone) started to holler, but Wash put a handkerchief over her

mouth. He had a white handkerchief in his right coat-pocket...."

The confession then relates how they put out the fire (fearing its

light) by throwing a bucket of water on it and how they jerked off a

bonnet which the old lady had on. It proceeds:

"They (her precious relatives) carried her to the edge of the gallery

and asked her to say where the money was, and she said she did not

have any, and they pushed her off, and as they pushed her off, Hill

Hutto struck her with a stick."

It was at this point probably that they cut their victim's throat--a

detail which Angle's confession does not mention--through delicacy,

perhaps. He says:

"They went out and examined her, going through her clothes carefully,

in search for her possessions. Hill Hutto, Wash Tullis, George

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Angle and Mrs. Tullis did the examining, and they got one-half and

one-quarter of a dollar. George Angle and Wash Tullis spent the money.

Hill Hutto, Wash Tullis, George Angle and Mrs. Tullis looked over the

house and went through the trunks and the bed. If they got any money,

I do not know of it. They came out of the house and looked under the

house to see if they could find any dirt dug up, or any fresh signs,

but they could not find any, and we went out at the west end of the

gallery, and climbed over the fence and took the trail through the

fields and Hill went the back way...."

Many half-burnt matches were found under the house by Rangers McDonald

and Delling to confirm this statement. The confession proceeds:

"The stick and the bucket were thrown out near where she was. The

stick was her walking-stick and the bucket the one Wash put the

fire out with. Hill threw the stick out, and Wash threw out the

bucket. Hill said he would leave the bucket out there and the people

would think she just went out to slop the hogs and fell out. It was

understood that night by all six of us that Wash and George would come

back and get the hogs in there, and that they would dig a hole on the

left of the gate as you go in."

He details how Wash Tullis and George Angle changed their shirts before

breakfast--for the removal of ghastly evidence, of course-and how

290
_after breakfast_ they changed their trousers. He relates how the hogs

were to be "tolled into the yard," and adds:

"The understanding was that we were to find her by the buzzards, but

Jim Ray found her before the time."

Now, it would be natural to suppose that a confession like that would

hang the confessor and his confederates as high as Haman. It did

nothing of the sort. Angle's relatives prevailed upon him to retract

his confession, and under the law, as administered in that district,

they were all discharged except Angle himself who was sentenced for

three years for having _committed perjury by swearing to a confession

which he subsequently declared a lie_!

It is hardly to be wondered at that men like Bill McDonald should

lose interest in a neighborhood where conditions like these exist.

What use is it to track and bring home criminals only to see them go

free, perhaps vowing vengeance against their captors. A detective

was assassinated in Groveton, and Ranger Dunaway, on invitation of

Attorney Robb, went over to look into the matter. On their way to the

court-house both Robb and Dunaway were fired upon from the window of a

law office. Dunaway was severely wounded, and Robb, fatally injured,

lived but a short time.

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It would be monotonous to detail the instances of crime and of the

captures made in the neighborhood of Groveton, Madisonville and

neighboring communities; to record the careful and brave work of

Captain McDonald and his Rangers which led only to failure in the end,

through the lack of public and official co-operation. When the men who

administer the law, and a controlling number of the citizens, do not

want justice, then perhaps it is just as well that law abiding citizens

should move away and let the rest murder one another to their hearts'

content.

A father and son waylaid and killed an old man named Tummins in Madison

County, and were arrested single-handed by Captain Bill. The two were

discharged on the plea of self defense.

A young man by the name of Hunter Gibbs was entrapped and assassinated

near Madisonville, and his murderers were traced home and arrested by

McDonald and his Rangers. They were eventually discharged.

A man named Wright Terry (this was in Groveton) after killing an

officer and a doctor and nearly killing a drummer, was brought to book

by Captain Bill, and might have gone free like the others if he hadn't

good-naturedly agreed to plead guilty and take a life sentence rather

than discommode his friends. But enough, let us turn to pleasanter

things.[14]

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FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 14: For certain details of the Touchstone episode and other

work of this period, see Captain McDonald's report for two years ending

August 31, 1904, Appendix C.]

XXXIV

A Wolf-hunt with the President

CAPTAIN BILL SEES THE PRESIDENT THROUGH TEXAS AND ACCOMPA-

NIES HIM ON

THE "BEST TIME OF HIS LIFE." QUANAH PARKER TELLS STORIES TO THE
HUNTERS

It was early in April, 1905, that Governor Lanham summoned Captain

McDonald and informed him that a wolf-hunt had been arranged for

President Roosevelt, by these two big ranchmen, Tom Waggoner and Burke

Burnett, somewhere in their pastures up in Comanche County, Oklahoma,

293
and that he, McDonald, was to accompany the President as a special

body-guard, particularly through the State of Texas.

Captain Bill looked unhappy.

"Governor," he said, "you know I'm a hell-roarin' democrat, and

don't care much for republican presidents in general and this one in

particular. I'd rather you picked another man for the job."

"All the same, Captain, we've picked you, and you'll have to serve,"

said Lanham.

Captain Bill saluted.

"Just as you say, Governor," he said, "only if I'd done the picking

I'd picked a man that wanted the job. There's enough of 'em."

Captain Bill proceeded to Fort Worth to join the President's party.

Col. Cecil Lyon introduced the Ranger Captain to President Roosevelt,

and Burke Burnett, also present, said:

"Now, Captain, you've got a very precious charge--the President of the

United States. He's in your hands, don't let anything happen; don't let

anybody assassinate him."

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Captain Bill smiled, in his quaint fashion.

"Burke," he said, pleasantly, "if anybody gets killed on this trip I'll

be the man charged with it, and the President of the United States

won't be the victim, either."

Without delay the President and party took the Fort Worth and Denver

train toward the Pan-handle. Once inside, out of the throng and under

way President Roosevelt with his accustomed good-nature and friendly

fellowship promptly struck up a conversation with his Master of Affairs.

"Look here," he said, "you were introduced to me as Captain McDonald:

you're not Captain Bill McDonald of the Rangers, are you?"

Captain Bill nodded.

"That's my name, Mr. President," he said, "I've been captain of a

company of Rangers for a long time."

"Is it possible? Well, I've heard a good deal about you."

Theodore Roosevelt has been accused of a good many things, but no one

ever accused him of not being able to make friends, or to keep them.

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Captain Bill smiled, as who wouldn't.

"Why, Mr. President," he said, "I didn't think you'd ever heard about

the Rangers."

The President's teeth shone in an expansive appreciation.

"Yes, indeed I have, and I've heard all about you. I remember very

well when you captured Kid Lewis and his partner, Crawford, up here at

Wichita Falls, and kept the crowd from lynching them as long as you

stayed there."

After that, conversation was easy, and Captain Bill's opinion of

his distinguished guest improved steadily. They discussed hunting,

marksmanship, the Rough Riders, the capture of bad men and all the

subjects of the strenuous life of the frontier.

With the President had come a body-guard of four secret-service men,

whose chief duty at this time was to protect him from the crowds who

pressed upon him here and there when the train halted and he went out,

as he did when there was time, to greet the people and perhaps make

a brief address. Captain Bill noticed that the secret-service men

did not seem quite equal to these occasions. Perhaps they were not

296
accustomed to handling the range-bred enthusiasm of that elemental

region. When the presidential party pulled into Wichita Falls the

platform was thronged. The crowds made a rush as the train came to a

standstill--trying to climb over one another, it would seem--to get

near the President. The secret-service men were helpless--they pushed

and protested, but accomplished little. Captain Bill stepped out on

the platform. Hardly a man in that crowd but recognized that lean

weather-beaten face, and that white hat. A good many remembered that

picture from a night and a morning nine years before when, at their

jail, a lone Ranger Captain had risen up in wrath and ruled the mob.

Some there remembered Bill McDonald a good deal longer than that--for

twenty years or more, when he had found that place a lawless settlement

on an untamed frontier and brought order out of human chaos and put a

governor on the wheels of law. When he spoke, now, they listened.

"Get out of the way, boys! Stay down there, you fellows; don't crowd up

here!" he said, and a sudden impulse of order was the result.

Now and then he added a word of caution, but it was hardly needed.

Captain Bill knew his crowd, and the crowd knew Captain Bill.

The President observed and marveled. At Vernon there was another

crowd--rollicking and noisy--and again the Ranger Captain held the

disorder in hand. When the train started once more President Roosevelt

said to his body-guard of four:

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"Boys, you ought to take a few pointers from Captain McDonald in

handling a crowd," and the "Boys" agreed to do it, knowing all the

time, as everybody there knew, that it would need Captain Bill's

twenty years' special acquaintance with that crowd to achieve his

results.

At Vernon they took a train for Frederick--a little station in Comanche

County, from which place they would ride a distance of twenty-five

miles to the camping place, located on a creek called the Deep Red. At

Frederick the President relieved his special guard of four, and sent

them back to Fort Worth to wait his return.

It was on April 8th that they arrived at Frederick where a good share

of the hunting party, and an enthusiastic crowd had gathered to welcome

them. The hunting party set out immediately for the camp, arriving

about nightfall.

Whoever chose the camping place made a good selection. The Deep Red--a

branch of Red River--is a fine running stream, with plenty of timber

and good grass. From all about the howling of their game--the small

gray wolves, or coyotes, which infest that country. The surroundings

were ideal.

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There were about fifteen in the hunting party, which included their

hosts, Tom Waggoner and Burke Burnett; also young Tom Burnett, who was

in charge of the horses--himself a daring horseman--Lieut.-General

S.M.B. Young (known to the Indians as "War Bonnet"); Lieutenant

Fortescue (formerly of the Rough Riders); Dr. Alexander Lambert of New

York; Col. Cecil Lyon of Texas; Sloan Simpson, Postmaster of Dallas;

John R. Abernethy of Tesca, Oklahoma (later, by the President's

appointment, United States Marshal); certain ranchmen and cowboys--by

no means forgetting Chief Quanah Parker, of whom we have heard before

in these chapters, now specially invited by the President's request.

Chief Quanah was then about sixty--tall, straight as an arrow and a

fine rider.

It was a pretty extensive camp, altogether. There were a hundred horses

and a "chuck" wagon--a regular "cow outfit";--a buggy for Burke Burnett

and General Young; two hacks, one of which belonged to Chief Quanah,

and other vehicles. Then there was a pack of forty greyhounds, some

stag-hounds, and about a half-dozen long-eared deer or fox-hounds, for

special work.

The excitement and joy of the tents and blazing campfires, and the

howling of the wolves, made everybody eager for morning and an early

start. So when supper was over and the guard set for the night, the

Great National Hunter and his friends and protectors lay down to rest,

299
the campfires still throwing a wide circle of light, on the fading

edges of which the coyotes gathered and looking up howled their anguish

to the stars.

It was a little more than daylight, next morning, a bright cool

morning, when the hunting party was up and away. The hunters were

mounted, all except General Young and Burke Burnett, who were in the

habit of following the chase in their buggy. The dogs to be used for

the morning run mingled with the riders, the others being confined

in the chuck wagon in a large cage, to be kept fresh, and used in the

afternoon, when the first detachment should be run down. At the head

of the party rode Tom Burnett and "Bony" Moore and behind these came

President Roosevelt of the United States, and Captain Bill McDonald of

Texas.

It was no trouble to find a wolf in that locality. One was soon

started up and the hounds were away, with the party of horsemen and

Burke Burnett's buggy following pell-mell in a general helter-skelter,

for which the President set the pace. As the Ranger Captain saw the

Chief Executive of the nation go careering over ditches and washouts

and through prairie-dog cities, his admiration grew literally by

leaps and bounds. He wished, however, he hadn't promised to bring the

President home intact. Bill McDonald was considered something of a

rider, himself, but he was not entirely happy in this Tam O'Shanter

300
performance. Still he stayed in the game.

"It looked mighty scary to me," he said afterward, "but I wouldn't

quit. The others followed, but some of them would go slower."

It was great excitement, great sport and great fun--a wild race across

the prairie--a final bringing of the wolf to bay with the "worry" and

"death" by the dogs, and general rejoicing by all.

But when the next wolf--or it may have been the third one--was cornered

there was a genuine exhibition. It was not killed by the dogs, it was

taken alive, by one man. John Abernethy was that man, and he took that

wolf with his hands. This was the manner of it. Whenever the dogs ran

upon the wolf, the wolf would turn and snap savagely, and if those

teeth of his happened to touch any part of the dog they left their

mark, and sometimes that part of the dog remained with the wolf. This

made the dogs careful--and shy.

But Abernethy was not careful--at least he was not shy. He ran up close

to that cornered wolf and fell upon him, and when the wolf snapped

at him, just as he had snapped at those dogs, Abernethy by a quick

movement of his hand caught the wolf by the lower jaw and held him

fast, and in such a way, that jerk and writhe and twist as he might

he could not get free. Then Abernethy, who was about thirty years old

301
and a muscular man, quick of movement and fearless, holding fast to

the wolf's jaw, carried that wolf to his horse, mounted and rode away,

still carrying his captive, alive.

Well, of course, President Roosevelt admired that beyond any feature of

the expedition. He had Abernethy do it again and again, and Abernethy

never made a failure. Sometimes he tied the wolf's jaws together with a

handkerchief; just held him and tied him in a deft workman-like way and

made off with him hanging on his saddle. It looked easy enough, to see

Abernethy seize the wolf, and presently a young fellow in the group of

hunters decided that it _was_ easy. But when he tried it, he only got

a knife-like slit across his hand and abandoned the contract. Then the

President wanted to try it, himself, as of course he would, but there

are some things which even a President cannot be permitted to attempt.

However, he was not to be kept altogether out of danger, and in the

characteristic incident which follows, those who will, may, perhaps,

find some allegorical significance.

As the party rode along--this was during a quiet recess between

wolves--they came upon a big rattlesnake, about five feet long, and

thicker than a man's wrist, coiled up, on a prairie-dog hill. When the

President saw it, he got down from his horse and taking his quirt (a

small rawhide riding whip about two feet long) he went up to the big

302
rattler and struck him. The snake was coiled, and sprang, but Roosevelt

stepped aside and quickly struck him again and again, then stamped his

head into the earth. There were plenty of rattlesnakes around there,

for the country was one great prairie-dog colony, and when they came

upon another, the President, like Abernethy, repeated his special

performance. The others did not like it--it looked too risky--and

that night when the President was not in the vicinity, Cecil Lyon and

Captain McDonald quietly removed the quirt which had been left hanging

on the Presidential saddle, and said nothing of the matter at all.

But the President was a good deal disturbed when he wanted to use

the quirt next day, and wondered and grumbled about it, until finally

Captain Bill confessed the fact and reasons of its disappearance.

"We were afraid you'd get snake-bit, Mr. President," he said, "and

we're having too much fun to have it stopped by an accident like that."

Theodore Roosevelt saw the joke and laughed. Then he led them away on

a race that if not as dangerous as coquetting with rattlesnakes was at

least more boisterously exciting.

They got four or five wolves that first day and the next, most of them

also taken alive by Abernethy, and these they carried to camp and

lariated out. It was a good start for a menagerie, and they added to it

daily.

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It was on the second day that Chief Quanah's family arrived--his

favorite wife, Too-nicey, and the two others whose names are not

remembered, but may have been Some-nicey and Quite-nice-enough,

together with a small boy and a papoose; and these in their hack

followed the hunt with the others. It was a genuine jubilee when a

coyote was started up and was followed by that boisterous company;

the buggy of "War Bonnet," and Burnett hitting only the high places;

Too-nicey and her matrimonial alliance bouncing along in the hack, with

the dog-wagon, wildly excited--a regular canine explosion--bringing

up the rear. Then, what excitement when the wolf was finally run down

and killed or captured; what rejoicing by everybody--including

Too-nicey, Quite-nicey, and Pretty-nicey, or whatever their names might

be.

[Illustration: IN CAMP WITH THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

"They gathered about the big fire, cowboy fashion."]

But now it developed that the three Nicey's could serve a good

purpose on a hunt like that as well as for mere decoration. They had

eyes--marvelous eyes--that could see a wolf far across the prairie when

the eyes of white men could not distinguish even a sign. There was no

need of a glass when the wives of Quanah sat in their hack and scanned

304
the horizon. Certainly that was an unusual hunting party, and very

likely a unique experience, for all concerned.

But perhaps the best part of the hunting was the evening, after all.

Then it was that they gathered about the big fire, cowboy fashion,

with Chief Quanah Parker in their midst, talking to them--repeating

the traditions of his father and his tribe--the tale of his mother's

capture, the story of his own life and battles--his views and his

religion of later years.

In a former chapter we have told of the massacre of Fort Parker and

the capture of the little girl, Cynthia Ann Parker, who was adopted by

the tribe, married a chief, and in time became Chief Quanah's mother.

Gathered about the campfire on Deep Red Creek, in a wide circle of

loneliness, with "Tom" Burnett, who understands the Indian language

"better than the Indians themselves," acting as interpreter and the

President of the United States listening, the son of that little

captured girl told that story, now, and he supplemented it with the

story of his father--a sequel that will not be out of place here.

The tribe had loved the little captive white girl, the story runs, and

the little girl had learned to love her captors. She had learned their

speech and forgot her own; then, by and by when she was no longer a

little girl, a great chief named Nacona had wooed her and made her his

305
wife. Nacona was a mighty warrior and made frequent raids on the white

settlements and carried off much property--cattle and horses.

But finally his last raid came. Captain Sul. Ross (later Governor

Ross), stationed at Fort Griffin with a troop of Rangers--sixty trained

Indian fighters--was watching for an opportunity to fall upon Nacona,

unawares. The opportunity came when Nacona, with his braves and many

of their squaws and children, were camped one day at the mouth of

Talking John Creek in Hardeman County. There was good hunting on

Talking John Creek, and Nacona and his braves, fresh from a raid on the

white settlements below, had stopped there for a few days to rest and

recuperate before taking up the final homeward march. They felt secure

and had no thought that Rangers were anywhere in the vicinity.

Then suddenly there was a clatter of horses' feet, a crack of carbines,

and Captain Ross with his sixty fighting devils were upon them. There

was no time for preparation. Most of the Indians fled wildly, leaving

their squaws and their captured plunder. Nacona's wife, who had been

the little captured Parker girl, was in the camp with him; also their

two children, Quanah, and his little sister, Prairie Flower.

With the first charge of the Rangers, Nacona seized his rifle, leaped

upon his horse and rushed after his braves, in the hope of gathering

them for battle. That his wife and children would not be harmed by the

306
white men he knew. He knew also, that the case was desperate, and he

realized this more fully when he found that his braves were hopelessly

scattered, and in full flight.

Nacona prepared to meet his death. The mounted Rangers were already

close upon him and he would die like the great chief that he was.

Beneath a large mesquite tree he dismounted and seating himself began

chanting the death song. Captain Ross and a detachment of Rangers rode

up. Nacona still chanted on. Then suddenly it may have occurred to him

that they meant to take him alive. They would imprison him, perhaps

hang him. He would die fighting.

Rousing as from a dream, he ceased his chant and throwing his rifle

to his shoulder, fired. The bullet missed, but it brought a quick

answering shot from a Ranger at Captain Ross's side, and the chief

dropped forward, his face in the grass.

So died Nacona, bravely, as a chief should die, and was buried where

he fell. In time his grave became a landmark. And Nacona's wife, who

had been Cynthia Ann Parker--no longer of the white race, but an

Indian in language and habits and affiliations--was brought by her

new captors, once more to dwell among her own kind, bringing with her

the boy Quanah, and his little sister, Prairie Flower. The mother was

never satisfied with civilization and always longed to return to the

307
tribe. Little Prairie Flower--homesick and delicate--pined away and

soon followed Nacona to the Spirit Land. The boy Quanah was sent back

to his father's people, for he was a chief in his own right. In time he

became a great leader of the Comanche Tribe, and, unlike his father, a

friend of his mother's race. He surrounded himself with the comforts

and many of the luxuries of white men; his home to-day is truly a white

man's home, with handsome furnishings, a piano and pictures; his voice

has been heard in the white man's councils, and a white man's city

was named in his honor. But the language of white men he has never

learned.[15]

Altogether that wolf hunt was a great success. Seventeen wolves

completed the result of the five days of hunting, most of them

taken alive and lariated out around the camp--a lively and musical

collection that delighted all parties concerned, except possibly

the wolves themselves. As for President Roosevelt he enjoyed this

vigorous isolated vacation continuously. But it was not easy to

preserve the isolation of that camp. Every day visitors came riding

or driving across the country, from somewhere, to seek an audience

with the nation's Chief Executive. There were men who wanted office

for themselves; men who wanted office for other people; men who

wanted every sort of Presidential assistance under the sun; men who

came merely out of curiosity and for the purpose of relating how

they had visited "Teddy" in his hunting camp and taken a hand in the

308
sport. A guard of soldiers from Fort Sill was supposed to picket the

reservation, but would-be visitors eluded the men and somehow got

through the lines. They did not get past Captain Bill, who met them and

serenely but surely turned them back. If they had business, Washington

was the place to transact it, he said. The President was here only

for pleasure. Some went willingly enough--others protested, but all

went. The President's days in the field, and those rare evenings about

the campfire were not to be marred by business or any mere social

diversions.

And when it was all over Theodore Roosevelt, in his enthusiasm

pronounced it all "Bully!" and repeated it, and said he had never had a

better time in his life, which was probably a correct statement.

And when they all rode back to Frederick he led the way again, and they

set out with a whoop and a run and yell, regular cowboy style, and as

they came into town where there was a great crowd waiting, the people

went fairly wild, as of course they would. Then the President had to

talk to the crowd again--he had said a few words on his arrival--and

tell them what a good time he had had, and what a great country this

was in general, and that part in particular, and how much he thanked

them for letting him come there, and how he was going on to Colorado

for a bear hunt, but how he never expected to have any better time than

he had had right there in Comanche, on the Deep Red wolf-hunt with Tom

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Waggoner and Burke Burnett, and Bill McDonald and John Abernethy, and

Quanah Parker and Too-nicey, Some-nicey and Plenty-nice-enough--

No, he didn't say all that either, but he said the right thing for the

occasion, just as he always does, and especially on an occasion like

that, where he is happy and full of life and the wild freedom of the

open. And every man within sound of his voice was his friend forever,

from that moment, regardless of his politics, and no man of all there,

was a warmer admirer and friend than Captain Bill McDonald of Texas,

who was a "hell-roaring" democrat and hadn't wanted to go.

He did not accompany the President to Colorado, though the arrangement

would have just suited both sides. But after all, he was a Ranger,

and there was other kind of game--game on which it is always open

season--waiting to be brought home. He accompanied the President's

party a distance on their journey; then he said:

"Well, Mr. President, I'm getting out of my jurisdiction. I guess I'll

leave you, now."

"But Captain, you are coming to see me in Washington, some day," said

the President as he grasped his hand.

"I don't know, Mr. President. I don't know how to put on a plug hat and

310
one of these spike-tailed coats, and pigeon-toed shoes."

"Well, don't try. Come exactly as you are, and there are a few of those

spike-tailed fellows around the Capitol that I'll let you take a shot

at. Now remember, you're coming--just as you are!"

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 15: The story as told by Chief Quanah not having been

preserved, most of the details here given are drawn from an article by

Fred. Harvey.]

XXXV

The Conditt Murder Mystery

A TERRIBLE CRIME AT EDNA, TEXAS. MONK GIBSON'S ARREST AND ES-

CAPE. THE

GREATEST MAN-HUNT IN HISTORY

311
It was during the latter part of 1905 and the spring of 1906 that

Ranger Captain McDonald was engaged in unraveling a mystery which gave

opportunity for the employment of his natural talent for detective

work, combined with the skill and experience acquired during a long

period of following criminals and uncovering crime.

On September 28th, 1905, two miles from the little town of Edna,

Jackson County, Texas, during the temporary absence of J.F.

Conditt--employed in rice harvest, seven miles distant--his wife and

four young children, ranging in ages from a baby boy of three to a

little girl of twelve, were murdered in broad daylight--their bodies

left as they had fallen in and about the premises. The murders were

committed in the most brutal and bloody way, with knife, adz, and such

household tool and implement as came to hand. Three of the murdered

children were boys. The little girl of twelve had been violated. Only

an infant of a few months had been left alive. The story of that

ghastly crime--its motive; its commission; its detection and the

punishment of its perpetrators--can only be epitomized here, for its

details would fill a volume and belong only in the official records;

neither are they yet complete. We shall attempt, therefore, no more

than the outlines, with such particulars as will show the scope and the

importance of Captain McDonald's work in solving a mystery and fixing

the guilt, not only without the assistance of those most interested,

but in the face of their bitter opposition.

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The Conditt family had but recently moved to Edna. They were working

people, respectable but poor, and had taken a house formerly occupied

by negroes. This in itself was an offense to their immediate

neighborhood--a negro settlement--and when Mr. Conditt repaired his

fences and thereby shut off from public use a windmill where the

negroes had been accustomed to go for water, his offense in their eyes

became a crime. They did not want him there and resolved to get rid

of him. How many or how few were concerned, directly and indirectly,

in the conspiracy to drive out or destroy the white family that had

settled among them, will perhaps never be known. That negroes seldom

betray one another, and that a negro conspiracy is the most difficult

of all plots to illuminate, are facts only too well established by our

recently recorded history. The Conditt murder plot furnishes an unusual

example of this peculiar African phase.

The negroes were sullen, at first, in their manner toward the Conditts.

Then one of them--a certain Felix Powell--spoke insultingly to Mildred

Conditt, the little girl of twelve. Then came September 28th--nine

o'clock in the morning--the day and hour of destruction.

It was one o'clock in the afternoon before the crime became known. Monk

Gibson, a colored boy of sixteen who had been plowing for Mr. Conditt

in a field about two hundred yards from the house, carried the news.

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He ran to the house of a white man named John Gibson, some distance

away, and reported that he had just seen Mrs. Conditt being chased

around the house by two men. John Gibson went on a run to the Conditt

premises; found no trace of the two men, but did find the murdered

family, a house like a slaughter pen, and in the midst of this horror,

a wailing infant. Gibson, the white man, hurried the colored boy off

to bring Mr. Conditt from the rice field, and set out to spread the

alarm. In a brief time the country was aflame. Monk Gibson, returning

with Mr. Conditt, was put under arrest, and it was now found that he

was smeared and splashed with blood. He explained the stains by saying

that his nose had bled and that he had hurt himself creeping through a

wire fence, but there were no indications of his nose having bled, and

he could show only the merest scratch of a wound. That he was concerned

in the crime was never doubted, but only the unreasoning then believed

he had committed it alone. Questioned, he told conflicting stories,

finally stating that men whom he did not know had dragged him to the

house, compelled him to view their work, splashed him with blood and

set him free.

Of course these statements were not believed. The whole country round

about Edna, now terribly aroused, was determined to have the truth.

If Monk Gibson was alone in the crime, and there were many who soon

reached this conclusion, his punishment would not wait the slow process

of the law. If he were one of several, he must reveal the names of his

314
associates. He was put through the severest ordeal of examination, but

he would utter nothing more than the confused contradictory stories

already told. Every method was tried to extort information, yet he only

repeated his conflicting stories and refused to tell names.

It was now pretty generally assumed that he had nothing to tell and

that he alone had committed the crime. A lynching mob was forming,

and a report came from Bay City that two hundred men had chartered a

special train for Edna and were coming to destroy the boy murderer

that night. Sheriff Egg of Edna and his deputies resolved to remove

the prisoner to a place of safety, and quietly arranged their plan.

As soon as it was dark they had swift horses taken to the back of the

jail, one for Gibson and others for the officers who would accompany

him. Then quietly they got him out through a back window; mounted

him, unfettered, between two officers, and slipped away toward

Hallettsville, where it was believed he would be safe.

They never reached Hallettsville. While galloping at full speed along

an open road they came to a curve. The officers had no thought that

Gibson would try to escape, and he was riding free. But at the curve,

Gibson did not turn. He kept straight on, drove his animal over a fence

and disappeared in the thick darkness. When the officers recovered

themselves and made their way into the field, they found the horse he

had been riding, but their prisoner had vanished. They came back to

315
Edna crestfallen and discredited. The people at first declared that

the deputies had put Gibson in hiding. Then, only half convinced, and

fiercely angry, they joined in what was, perhaps, the greatest man hunt

ever known in Texas. Every available horse and gun was secured--every

available man was presently in the saddle.

But this was only a beginning. Within a brief time fresh car-loads

of horses were shipped to Edna; ranchmen sent their cowboys; every

pack of blood-hounds in south Texas was mustered into the service;

commissary camps were established; leaders were appointed for the

various bands; business was suspended, the country became one vast

encampment and all for the purpose of running down a single boy of

sixteen who had slipped away from the deputies and was believed to be

hiding in the swamps. In the midst of all this, Governor Lanham ordered

Adjutant-General Hulen with four companies of State troops to invest

the place; whereupon Edna became a military camp in fact.

Captain McDonald was working in another part of the State when he first

saw the reports of the Conditt murder. His headquarters being now at

Alice, the scene of the crime was in his territory, and before many

days he was notified by General Hulen to report at Edna with men and

blood-hounds to join in the search. Arriving at the front he found

such a turmoil of excitement and animosity and trouble of many kinds

as is not often gathered in any one place. Men and groups of men,

316
each more distracted than the other, were rushing hither and yon on

a hundred fruitless and mainly imaginary errands. Nobody was really

doing anything; everybody was blaming everybody else; everybody was mad

at the soldiers, mad at the arriving Rangers, mad at each other; and

meantime Monk Gibson was still at large.

Captain McDonald looked over the ground, as quietly as they would let

him, and gave it out as his conclusion that no one man could have

committed all that crime in open daylight, let alone a boy of sixteen.

The sentiment was almost wholly the other way by this time, and the

Ranger Captain's opinion was bitterly opposed from the start. What

the people wanted was a victim. If they could capture Monk Gibson

they would have a victim, and they did not want any complication that

would interfere with this elementary proposition and the summary idea

of justice which lay behind it. The presence of military and especially

of Rangers was a menace, and for Bill McDonald to try to confuse

matters with his detective theories, which might result in Gibson going

clear, even if captured, would not be lightly borne. He was given to

understand that the people of Edna knew what they wanted, and when they

wanted Rangers they would invite them.

Captain Bill, however, followed his own ideas. He felt sure that

Gibson was only one of several that had perpetrated the crime, and was

doubtless a tool of older men. Moreover there were bloody hand-prints,

317
left by one or more of the Conditt murderers, and these he could not

believe had been made by the hand of a boy of sixteen, small for his

years as Monk Gibson was declared to be. He further believed that

Gibson was somewhere in hiding near his home, for by long experience he

had learned that the hunted negro will always go home, regardless of

risk.

Meantime, Monk Gibson's parents were in jail, and their premises had

been searched more than once. Other negroes had been arrested on

suspicion, only to be discharged for lack of any tangible evidence.

Captain McDonald went his own way, holding to the theory that the

negro boy would be found in the neighborhood of his own home. His two

blood-hounds, Trouble and Rock, he took there repeatedly to try to pick

up the trail, yet always without success. He believed the boy would

come home for food, and to the nearby windmill for water. The barn

near his father's house was searched daily, and while for some reason

Captain Bill did not attend to this detail himself he was assured each

time that the search had been thorough.

Yet Monk Gibson was hiding in that barn all the time. There were

some unthreshed oats in the barn, and he had found a place where he

could work himself under the straw, leaving no trace on the outside.

Sometimes at night he had crept out to a pig-pen for water, and had

picked some ears of corn in a nearby patch. One morning when he could

318
stand it no longer he came out and called to a negro named Warren

Powell, whose brother, Felix Powell, already mentioned, was to play an

important part in this tragic drama. Warren Powell immediately took

charge of the boy, Monk, tied him and notified the officers. General

Hulen, Captain McDonald, Sheriff Egg and others responded quickly,

and putting the boy in a buggy made a wild gallop for the jail, by a

circuitous route, to avoid the crowds. He was landed safely inside,

tossed from man to man between a line of bayonets, and when the

infuriated populace gathered they were driven back by a cordon of armed

officials.

Captain McDonald now got himself disliked in more ways than one. For

one thing he persisted in his theory that Monk Gibson alone could not

have committed the crime; for another, he urged that Gibson be taken to

a safer, quieter place for protection. Furthermore he would not permit

them to obtain testimony from the prisoner by torture. Approaching

the jail one night he heard screams of agony. Entering, he found an

assembly of examiners in Monk Gibson's cell, with Gibson tied up by the

thumbs, the boy screaming, but refusing to tell anything more than the

conflicting incoherent stories told at first.

"Take that boy down," said Captain Bill. "Don't you know that anything

you get out of a witness by torture is not evidence enough for a mob,

let alone a court of law?"

319
Meantime, the Ranger Captain had been picking up threads of evidence

of his own. For one thing he had observed that two negroes--Felix

Powell, already mentioned, and one Henry Howard--had taken a curiously

intense interest in all the investigations--seemingly fascinated by

every movement of the officers, especially of the Rangers. He noticed,

too, that certain other negroes of the settlement were acting in a

manner which to one with a special knowledge of their characteristics,

appeared suspicious. He made carefully guarded inquiries, and learned

that while Powell and Howard claimed to have been working for a man

named John Young all day on the day of the murder, they had in reality

worked for Young only during the afternoon. When he spoke to them

about it their answers were contradictory. Finally Powell acknowledged

that he had not worked for Young during the forenoon, and could give

no satisfactory account of his whereabouts for the morning. It was

generally believed, at first, that the murder had been committed about

one o'clock--the time of the alarm by Monk Gibson--but the condition of

the bodies when found made it evident that the crime had occurred much

earlier--Captain McDonald believed as early as nine o'clock. McDonald

finally questioned Powell directly, and believed he detected guilt in

his every look and word. Powell denied knowing Monk Gibson at all,

though the two had been raised in the same neighborhood. Gibson on the

other hand had already acknowledged that he knew Powell, and had always

known him. Finally Captain Bill said:

320
"Well, Felix, I think I will put you in jail awhile to refresh your

memory."

The suspected man nearly collapsed at this and protested his innocence.

Searched, a knife was found on him, which had a rusty, inoffensive look

on the outside and according to its owner was very dull and used only

for cutting tobacco. But when this knife was opened it was found to be

of razor-like sharpness, and when a match was passed through the jaws

and blade recesses, the end of the match brought up blood! Two of the

Conditt children had died of ghastly knife wounds. Captain McDonald

believed that this knife had made them.

* * * * *

Evidently he was alone in that belief. The arrest of Powell was

condemned generally as a diversion, to aid in clearing Gibson--it being

widely declared that such was the Ranger Captain's purpose. To this,

however, he paid not much attention--his one desire being to get as

much evidence as possible and bring the guilty to justice. He did not

feel warranted in arresting Howard and the others at this time, though

fully believing them concerned as accessories, if not as principals,

in the plot to kill. That Monk Gibson had not been alone in the crime

he was quite positive. The prints of the bloody hand-mark sawed out of

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the Conditt house could not be made to fit Gibson's hand by any stretch

or adjustment of that member. Neither did it look as if it would fit

Powell's hand, though the actual fitting was not then tried, for

Powell was wary, and must be entrapped into a test that would require

such nicety of adjustment. But there had been one more suspicious

circumstance. A shirt had been found tucked away under a bridge over a

creek where it had been washed, though it still bore evidence of blood

stains. Captain McDonald approached Powell with the shirt in a small

bundle under his arm. "That is not my shirt!" declared Powell quickly,

before a word had been said, and before it was possible to tell what

the folded garment was.

Yet the grand jury then in session refused to listen to McDonald's

evidence, or to indict any one but Gibson, who was charged by that body

with the entire crime.

By this time the soldiers had gone back to Austin and only the Rangers

and local officers were in charge of the jail. When the indictment was

found, Captain McDonald demanded that the prisoner be removed to San

Antonio for safety and the District Judge consented to the removal.

Threats that such a removal would not be permitted were plenty enough,

but the Rangers, without announcement or manifestation of any sort,

made ready, and when the train was about due quietly and swiftly

hurried him to the station and put him aboard. He landed in San Antonio

322
safely and for the time the Conditt case was quiescent. Felix Powell

was turned out of jail as soon as the Rangers were gone, evidently

as an affront to McDonald, and to show the community's disbelief in

his theories as well as their general disapproval of his efforts.

McDonald with plenty of other work crying to be done was not eager to

continue a thankless task, though it was work of a kind he loved. That

winter, when Gibson's trial was coming on in San Antonio, he urged the

prosecutors to try him as one of several and not as the one alone, who

had committed the crime. They would not listen to him, and they would

not let him testify, declaring that his theories and so-called evidence

would spoil their case. They tried Monk Gibson for the entire killing

and a rational jury naturally failed to convict, though Felix Powell

and Henry Howard were brought from Edna as witnesses and did their best

to aid the prosecution. The jury was divided and Monk was taken back to

jail.

It was not until the spring of 1906 that Captain McDonald was again

actively concerned in the Conditt case. Early in the season, while

attending the Stockmen's Convention at Dallas, he met prominent men

from the South Texas districts and reviewed with them the story of the

crime and the progress that had been made, or rather had not been made,

in convicting the guilty. He stated freely his theories concerning

Powell, Howard and other negroes and went over the details of his

evidence.

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The stockmen began by opposing Captain Bill's theories and ended by

joining in a movement to have the State continue the investigation at

Edna under his direction. They employed a young lawyer named Crawford

to bring the matter before the Governor, who agreed to reopen the

investigation, but suggested that it be done by another man than

McDonald for the reason that the citizens of Edna were prejudiced

against the Ranger. The stockmen's answer to this was, that unless

McDonald could be sent they would have nothing further to do with the

matter.

The Governor agreed, then, and Captain Bill made ready to go to Edna

and remain there until he should succeed in establishing his theory or

be ready to acknowledge himself baffled.

XXXVI

The Death of Rhoda McDonald

THE END OF A NOBLE WOMAN'S LIFE. HER LETTER OF GOOD-BY

324
It is at this point that we must pause to record a circumstance which

seems totally out of place in the midst of an episode of this kind, but

which, because of its association with events, cannot be elsewhere set

down. Yet, after all, why should not the end of a noble life be written

here, when that life had been always a part of the active service of

him whose career we have been following--the life of an unfaltering

hero of the home who never said "stay" but "go," no matter what the

danger; who even at the very end sent him back to his duty, and died

alone.

Rhoda McDonald had not been a robust woman for a number of years. Those

early frontier days on Wanderer's Creek had been hard, and must have

told on her in the long run, as well as all the anxious nights and days

that had filled up the years of a Ranger's wife.

At Alice, though manifestly in poor health, she still maintained a

home, doing such light housekeeping as her strength permitted. Her

interest in her husband's work was as active as ever; she knew every

detail of the situation at Edna as reported by the press, and when in

May, 1906, he was ordered there for further investigation, she bade

him go, despite reluctance on his part, for she believed that he alone

could bring to punishment the perpetrators of that terrible crime.

They arranged that in his absence she should go to a sanatorium in San

325
Antonio, and try to regain strength; and in accordance with this plan

she closed the little household at Alice, and at San Antonio went under

a doctor's care. When Captain McDonald had been in Edna a short time,

he was notified that an operation would be necessary to save her life.

He hurried to San Antonio and found her cheerful, though evidently

aware of her danger. Her talk, however, was all of his work and the

prospects of his further progress. When the ordeal was over and the

physicians declared that her chances for recovery were very good, she

would not let him stay to verify this opinion, but hurried him back to

his work.

"I want you to find the men that murdered that poor woman and those

little innocent children," she said, "and you must not waste your time

here with me."

So he went back, and for a few days encouraging letters came from

doctors and attendants. Then came a telegram which said: "Conditions

not so favorable; come."

She was dead when he got there, but she had left a letter of good-by.

That letter is a classic. As an epitome of a simple, noble, unselfish

life--calm and fearless in the face of the supreme mystery--it seems

without a flaw.

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"My Dear Husband:

"When your eyes look on these lines I will have crossed the Great

Divide, and these wishes of mine I am sure you will fulfil. Enclosed

is a note from Lee (my brother), which matures next spring. I managed

to save it from my means, or some of it, two years ago, and Lee

has been so good to keep it at interest, which I have added to the

original amount, until it has reached the amount of the note.

"Please send Sister, your sister, $25.00 and give Ruth $25.00. She has

to work very hard. Allow Lee this year's interest for his kindness and

trouble. I want Eula (your niece) to have the brooch you gave me; Dot

(your niece) my fur and the small diamond ear-bob. Give Mollie (my

sister) the other diamond ear-bob. Give Jim my books, which are at

Quanah, and my cameo ring. I want Ruth to have my watch and the breast

pin that was our mother's. Give Helen White my engagement ring--the

little one with the small diamonds. In the little bag is $15.00

that belongs to the Lord. Be sure to give it to the 'Salvation Army

People,' to feed the poor and hungry.

"My clothes, turn over to Mollie and Ruth and what they don't want

tell them to give to the poor. Of course, the diamond ring will be

yours.

327
"I want you to keep my Bible and read it, because you will derive more

comfort from it than all else besides. My prayers for you have always

been mingled with those for myself, and I hope they have not been in

vain.

"Please see that my grave has plenty of trees, so that the birds may

build their nests in them. Give Ruth my black silk dress, which is at

Wichita Falls. Get Ruth or Mollie to help you find the things.

"I am sorry for every cross word or look that I ever gave you, but

feel sure you will not hold them against me.

"With lots of love--Good-by.

"Rhoda."

He took her to Greenville, Texas, for burial, for they had no settled

home, while in Greenville there were relatives. Then he returned to

Edna to carry out the mission which in her last spoken words to him she

had bade him fulfil.

328
XXXVII

The Conditt Mystery Solved

CAPTAIN BILL AS A "SLEUTH." THE TELL-TALE HAND-PRINT. A RANGER

CAPTAIN'S THEORIES ESTABLISHED

Captain McDonald realized that his task in Edna was to be a hard

one--made harder by the fact that the citizens of Edna still bitterly

opposed his investigation; still believed that his chief purpose was

to cheat them of Monk Gibson's life. There was one important exception

to this opposition. Sheriff Egg of Edna, though with little faith in

the Ranger Captain's theories, volunteered to help test them and his

assistance was valuable.

Another favorable condition for his work was, that certain of the

suspected negroes had fallen out among themselves, and he presently

discovered that there were strange insinuations and implied charges

drifting about the settlement which might mean much, or nothing at all.

Felix Powell had been arrested for knocking down his sister-in-law,

Warren Powell's wife, and was working out his time on the road when

Captain McDonald returned to Edna. The Ranger Captain gave the

disturbed elements a little judicious stirring and they fomented.

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"If I told all I know about that nigger, he'd hang for murder," Irene

Powell blurted out. Detective McDonald smiled quietly, but did not use

undue haste. He had Felix Powell removed from the public highways and

once more put in jail. Then quietly he went to the negroes and made it

easy and even enticing for them to talk. He knew the negro character

very well--its weaknesses and its animosities, and these he played

on--gently, very gently, at first, but effectively. Little by little

he learned that Felix had already been accused of the crime by those

of his own color--some of whom were said to know the facts. He learned

that Felix had been greatly exercised over the arrival of the first

blood-hounds.

"They'll trail a man to town," he had said, "but they can't follow a

man that has oil on his shoes."

All night he had lain awake, listening for the bay of the hounds. Once

he had sat bolt upright in bed.

"Here they come!" he had exclaimed to a man who was staying with him.

Soon after, he said: "I could put my hand on the man that committed

that murder." And again: "There's one woman knows, and she may tell. As

for Monk, he's told so many lies, the white people won't believe him,

anyway."

330
Two little children named Reed, looking at the bleeding legs of some

tied chickens, said to each other that the bloody string reminded them

of the clothes their mother had washed for Felix Powell. This was

repeated and whispered, and one of Powell's acquaintances charged him

with the crime.

"They'll hang you for it, Felix," he said.

"When they do, a lot of white folks will go to hell with me," was the

reply.

All these things came in due course to Captain Bill, and by and by an

affidavit for murder was prepared and Powell was formally accused of

the crime. When he knew of this he became furious and attacked McDonald

in his cell and had to be overpowered and chained. Later, in a fit of

rage, he snapped these chains and tore the shackles from his limbs.

Then a heavier chain was put on him and he was padlocked to the floor.

Besides Felix Powell, charges were brought against Henry Howard

and four women believed to be concerned in the killing--directly

or as accessories to it, either before or after the fact. One of

these--Augusta Diggs--on the second day of the examining trial,

confessed her knowledge of the crime. She confirmed Captain Bill's

331
belief that the murder of the Conditts had taken place in the morning

and declared that Powell had come to her with the story of how he and

Monk Gibson had killed the Conditts, bringing his bloody clothes for

her to wash. She had refused and he had taken them elsewhere--to Bethel

Reed. Other witnesses, willingly or unwillingly, gave further damaging

evidence. Listeners began to wonder if there wasn't something in all

these accusations besides a mere negro feud--to suspect that perhaps

Bill McDonald might be able to establish his theories, after all.

But it is likely they would still have doubted and the case would have

come to naught, had there not been one more link in Captain Bill's

chain of circumstance. He had been closely observing Felix Powell's

right hand when he could do so without attracting the prisoner's

attention, and mentally comparing it with the bloody print sawed from

the Conditt house. The print was a peculiar one; it showed an oblong

spot for the thumb; a longer one for the forefinger; then two somewhat

shorter ones for the middle and third finger, with a mere dot for the

little finger. It was as if the hand had been maimed by accident, and

the fingers cut away. Captain Bill at first had made a sketch of the

print, which he could surreptitiously compare with the hand of Powell,

when opportunity offered. The comparison puzzled him. Powell's little

finger might make the dot, for it had been deformed by a bone felon

and had a crooked bone at the end. But his other fingers were normal,

and it was hard to imagine they had made that bloody impress. Still,

332
the Ranger detective did not give up. He wanted to see the hand and

the print together, or to see actual prints of the hand, by the side

of tell-tale evidence left on the Conditt walls. Finally, one day,

he got Felix Powell, whose diversions were few enough, interested in

an experiment of camphor-smoked paper upon which almost photographic

reproductions of any yielding object could be made. The negro was

attracted by the results and willingly enough made the impress of his

open hand. Captain Bill felt a qualm of disappointment. Only the dot

for the stub of a little finger compared at all with the print left by

the murderer. Then suddenly he had an inspiration. He put an object

the size of a closed knife into Felix's hand, and told him to make a

print with his fingers closed. The shadow of the gallows stretched out

toward Felix Powell in that instant, but he did not know it. He pressed

his hand to the paper, and as he lifted it Bill McDonald's heart gave

a fierce bound of triumph. The likeness to the print of blood was

exact. As Captain Bill said afterward, "I saw that Felix Powell's hand

with a knife in it, would fit the print left on the Conditt walls, to

a gnat's heel." Something of what was in his captor's mind must have

filtered into the skull of Felix Powell, then, for he became wary and

frightened, and when Captain Bill urged him to make other prints he

moved his hand each time and blurred them. He was anxious, too, to know

what use was going to be made of the ones already taken. When later he

learned what had been done with them, and that his hand was identical

with a bloody print found on the Conditt premises, he broke out in a

333
rage.

"Aren't there any other hand like that in the world?" he cried.

There could be none. The tests of measurement and the similarity of

line had been applied. They tallied exactly. They convinced Sheriff

Egg completely--they convinced the most skeptical in Edna. When that

examining trial ended, Captain Bill McDonald, Ranger and detective,

from being a man whose presence was resented and whose theories were

despised, became suddenly to the people of Edna a mighty criminal

sleuth; a veritable Sherlock Holmes; a hero whose name was on every

tongue. Outside of Edna, Texas had suspected this before, but now Edna

took the lead in singing his praises, and every paper in the State

joined in the chorus.

It is not within the purpose of this book to follow here the case of

the Conditt murderers through the courts. The evidence as finally

accumulated was voluminous and damning so far as Felix Powell and Monk

Gibson were concerned. That Monk Gibson was a tool of Powell (and

perhaps of others) was most likely, for it was proven that Powell had

been seen walking around and around the field with him as he plowed,

early on the morning of the murder, and the big track and the smaller

one had been found there, side by side. That Powell had enticed the

negro boy to join in the crime, we may easily believe, and that Monk

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Gibson _had_ joined in that fearful tragedy cannot be doubted, and he

had plowed on until one o'clock with those dead bodies lying there

close by, thus giving his confederate, or confederates, a chance to

establish an alibi, probably in accordance with a preconcerted plan.

Both Powell and Gibson paid the extreme penalty of their crime. Powell

went to the gallows at Victoria, Texas, on the 2d of April, 1907. Monk

Gibson was hanged at Cuero, Texas, a year later, in June. Neither made

any confession that was of legal value, though Gibson, a few minutes

before his execution, gave to Captain McDonald a rambling statement in

which he involved others besides Powell.

The cases of Henry Howard and of the women arrested as accessories to

the plot and its execution, had not been disposed of when this was

written. Howard was then under indictment as principal and accessory

on evidence supplied by McDonald. Whether that evidence is found

sufficient to convict will only be decided by the juries of the future.

XXXVIII

The Brownsville Episode

335
AN EVENT OF NATIONAL IMPORTANCE. THE TWENTY-FIFTH IN-
FANTRY'S MIDNIGHT

RAID

The year 1906 was Captain Bill McDonald's last and most important

year in the Ranger service. He was still concerned in the work at

Edna when there occurred not far away an event in which certain negro

characteristics were even more strikingly manifested--an event which

was presently to grow into an episode of national importance.

On the night of August 13, 1906, armed men, in number from ten to

twenty, believed to be colored soldiers of the Twenty-fifth Infantry,

quartered at Brownsville, Texas, appeared about midnight upon the

streets and "shot up the town," firing recklessly into many buildings,

killing one man, severely wounding another and endangering the lives of

many citizens. Official investigation failed to identify the offenders,

and three months later, President Roosevelt assuming that the offense

was nevertheless committed by certain members of the Twenty-fifth

Infantry, with guilty knowledge on the part of their comrades,

dismissed the entire command, "without honor," on the ground that the

three companies, numbering one hundred and seventy men, had banded in

a "conspiracy of silence for the purpose of shielding those who took

336
part in the original conspiracy of murder."

Captain William J. McDonald, then of the State Rangers, was prominently

identified with the early investigation of this unusual episode, and

the story of his court of inquiry, with its revelations, and of his

remarkable experiences following the same, has become history.

Brownsville, Texas, is a city of less than ten thousand population,

situated on the north bank of the Rio Grande, in the extreme southern

portion of the State. It has long been a military point--its garrison,

Fort Brown, being situated but a little way from the business center.

Opposite Brownsville, on the Mexican side of the river, lies Matamoras.

Late in the summer of 1906, three negro companies--B, C, and D,

of the Twenty-fifth Infantry, Major C.W. Penrose commanding, were

ordered to Brownsville, and quartered at Fort Brown. They arrived

July 28th, in bad humor. There was a military encampment of State

troops at Austin, and they had not been permitted to participate in

the maneuvers--drills, sham battles and the like--in progress there.

They had been told that the Texas boys did not care to drill with

them--that if they went to Austin and took part in the sham battles,

blank cartridges might be discarded for real ones by the white troops.

Of course this was idle talk, but they repeated it and nursed their

resentment, becoming noisy and braggart, as ignorant men, whether

337
white or negro, will. On the way they had torn down the signs, "For

Negroes," placed by law, in the South, in the cars intended for colored

passengers, and had boasted to the conductor that "all women in

Brownsville would look alike to them, whether white, negro or Mexican."

They were not long in beginning their demonstrations. They set in

drinking immediately upon their arrival, and their anger grew when

they found they were not permitted to drink at the bar with white men,

increasing still further in violence when one or more of the saloons

set up a separate bar for their accommodation. They became loud and

insolent on the street; crowded white women from the walks, and made

themselves generally offensive and hateful.

Brownsville as a community did not openly resent these indignities,

but individuals did. A Mr. Tate, an inspector of customs, whose wife

was run over and rudely jostled by a negro soldier, administered

summary correction with the butt of his revolver. In another case an

ex-ranger named Bates applied like treatment for similar offense. A

third instance is recorded of a negro soldier who, returning drunk from

Matamoras--a favorite excursion point--was ordered to move on by a Mr.

Baker, another inspector of customs, and upon becoming more obnoxious

was eventually pushed into the mud. But public feeling reached

the boiling-point when a Mrs. Evans--a lady of refinement--upon

dismounting from her horse was seized by the hair and dragged violently

338
to the ground by a tall negro soldier. She clung to the bridle of the

frightened animal, that reared and plunged and finally tore her free

from her assailant, who then ran away. As a result of this assault,

patrols were put on and soldiers' passes canceled. This doubtless added

to the ire of the negroes, and whatever purpose of retaliation they may

have had would appear to have assumed definite form. The catastrophe

was not delayed.

Monday, August 13, was a rather quiet day, owing to the new

restrictions, and a majority of the citizens perhaps believed that

their troubles with the military were over. But there were others who

claimed to have heard muttered threats, and these, as evening drew on,

were anxious and watchful. It was about midnight that a bar-keeper

named Natus was serving a final round of drinks to a few belated

customers, white men, in a saloon where a bar had been erected for

the accommodation of negro soldiers. The men lingering about the bar

were talking quietly, and it is certain that they had been discussing

the possibility of an outbreak from the garrison. Suddenly they were

startled by a succession of shots, loud voices and general commotion

from the direction of the fort. One of the group cried out:

"That must be the niggers coming, now!"

A fusillade followed, coming nearer. The bar-keeper, Natus, sprang to

339
the front doors, flung them shut, and fastened them. An instant later,

he ran into the back yard to prevent entrance in that quarter. He was

not in time. Before he could close the gate, he received a volley, and

dropped dead.

The mob of murderers passed on, pouring their fire into houses where

men, women and little children were asleep. Their course was up an

alley, leading from the fort through the town. Already, before killing

Natus, they had fired on a house in which were two women and five

children--one of the shots putting out a lamp. Ten shots had passed

through this house, all aimed about four and a half feet above the

floor, evidently intended to kill. They had next met the chief of the

police, fired upon him, killing his horse and shattering his arm. Next

came the Miller Hotel, where they fired at guests in the windows,

breaking the glass and filling the casements with bullets. They shot

at whatever they saw moving, and wherever they saw a light. In a

house where a woman and two children were asleep, two bullets passed

through the mosquito bar that covered their bed. For two blocks and a

half the assault on the defenseless street continued, then suddenly

the assassins disappeared in the direction of the fort--the midnight

raid was over. In ten minutes had been written a unique chapter in the

history of the American Army--a chapter that would be told, and retold,

and debated and deformed until its volumes would fill a library.

340
And now from the garrison came shouts and the sound of bugle--a general

call to arms. The town, already in a turmoil, fell into a panic of

fear and disorder. A renewal of the attack was expected at any moment.

It was believed that a general massacre would take place. Men armed

themselves with whatever they could lay hands on; women and children

hid themselves and waited in terror and trembling.

Morning came without further assault. Daylight showed the shattered

glass, the bullet holes in the weather-boards and window casings,

and, on the street, empty shells, cartridges and clips--of government

rifles. At one place in the mud lay a soldier cap. The night had been

too dark and the town too poorly lighted to identify the individuals of

the mob, but the evidence as to its origin seemed unmistakable.

A citizen committee to deal with the situation was quickly formed.

Telegraphic reports of the outbreak, with urgent demands for immediate

action and for the removal of the negro troops, were sent to Governor

Lanham, General Hulen, Senators Bailey and Culberson and to the

President of the United States. No immediate relief seemed forthcoming

from any source. Governor Lanham waited for Washington, Washington

waited for an investigation. The public at large took but a small

interest in the whole affair--the metropolitan dailies according it but

the barest mention in obscure corners. It would be a big matter to

them some day. It was a big matter to Brownsville already.

341
"We cannot convince our women and children that another outbreak

may not occur at any time. Their condition is deplorable. They will

scarcely venture out of their homes and only feel secure there by

our maintaining a heavy guard and patrol of armed citizens every

night. We know the accidental discharge of a fire-arm, any overt act

of an excited citizen--and our citizens are fearfully excited--would

precipitate upon us the whole negro force at Fort Brown." ... This from

a telegram sent to President Roosevelt on August 18, five days after

the raid. Brownsville was in a sad plight indeed.

Three days more brought no relief from any source. At the fort, the

soldiers were kept under arms, perhaps fearing a general attack from

the citizens, while on their part the citizens expected a general

outbreak of the troops, at any moment. The officers in command were

supposed to be conducting an investigation, and when it was given out

that the midnight attack could not have come from the garrison, but had

probably been made by a gang of Mexicans from across the river; when it

was further stated that the garrison had been attacked, and the shots

said to have been fired from there during the raid, had been fired in

defense; such statements only meant, to the citizens of Brownsville,

that Major Penrose and his officers were going to protect their

troops, or had been intimidated by them. Rumors of another outbreak

continued. Women barely slept. Men began to move their families

342
away. Two rangers of Captain McDonald's command--Blaze Delling and

Sam McKenzie--came over from a subordinate ranger camp at Harlingen,

twenty-five miles distant, and these undertook to collect evidence,

and aided in patrolling the town. Other appeals for help had brought

no result. Telegrams for relief were answered non-committally, or not

at all. When Captain McDonald himself, with the other two members of

his little company--Sergeant W.J. McCauley and C.T. Ryan--arrived on

the evening of the twenty-first, Brownsville, resentful and despairing,

hailed the veteran regulator with open arms.

XXXIX

Captain Bill on the Scene

THE SITUATION AT BROWNSVILLE. RANGERS MCDONALD AND MC-

CAULEY DEFY THE

U.S. ARMY. CAPTAIN BILL HOLDS A COURT OF INQUIRY

Captain McDonald had been serving as Sergeant-at-Arms for the

Democratic State Convention at Dallas when the Brownsville attack

343
occurred. Brownsville was in his district and he had expected to

be ordered there at once, but was counseled by Governor Lanham to

remain in Dallas until Adjutant-General Hulen, of the State troops,

then maneuvering at Austin, should be advised to act. On the morning

after the outbreak, General Hulen had been implored by the mayor and

citizens of Brownsville to come to their relief, and Captain McDonald

supposed that Hulen would promptly respond, with troops from the Austin

encampment. A few days later, when the convention ended, the Ranger

Captain hurried to Austin and found that no action of any kind was in

progress, or contemplated. The State troops were still at Camp Mabry,

maneuvering, and firing blank cartridges. Captain Bill went out there.

"Give me some of the men that are over there bombarding the hills, and

I'll go down and settle that Brownsville business," he said.

General Hulen replied that he had no authority to investigate any

action of Federal troops; to do so would be to invite a charge to

treason.

"Treason!" said Captain Bill, "Why, them hellions have violated the

laws of the State, shooting into people's houses and committing murder.

I don't care what else they are, they're criminals. It's my sworn duty

to investigate such business as that, and I'm going to do it, if I have

to go there alone!" And Captain Bill might have added, "If this be

344
treason, make the most of it."

Certainly he did not consider that he needed other authority to hunt

down criminals than that invested in him as Captain of Company B,

Ranger Force. The Commonwealth of Texas and its laws had been for

a quarter of a century--first, last and all the time--his chief

consideration. To him, Texas was the biggest thing under the sky.

Without further discussion, now, he proceeded immediately to his

headquarters at Alice, picked up McCauley and Ryan, and hurried to

Brownsville. At Corpus Christi, District Judge Stanley Welch, who

had an office at Brownsville, boarded the train. He greeted Captain

McDonald and his Rangers with enthusiasm, and spoke feelingly of the

fact that nothing had been done by either State or Federal authorities.

He assured the Rangers that they had full power to take such steps

and to use such means as were necessary to identify and punish the

offenders.

It was about six o'clock in the evening of Tuesday, August 21, that

Captain Bill and his little force of two reached Brownsville. The

Captain immediately paid a visit to Mayor Combe, and to Chairman of

the Citizens' Committee Kelley. He learned that a Major Blocksom,

under orders from Washington, had arrived at the fort, to join Major

Penrose in his investigations, but that neither these officers nor the

Citizens' Committee had made any progress toward the identification of

345
the criminals. Members of the committee further informed the Captain

that in spite of some existing prejudice among the townspeople, Major

Penrose was an estimable gentleman, doing all in his power to bring the

offenders to justice. He had stated, they said, that he would get to

the bottom of the mystery if it took him ten years to do it.

"Ten years!" said Captain Bill. "What does he need all that time for!

He could do it in ten minutes, if he wanted to and tried. He knows his

men, and he could find out who was absent during the shooting. And he

knows just about who would be likely to get into a gang like that. I'll

find them out, myself, and I won't be ten years about it--nor ten days,

neither."

They applauded Captain Bill, then, and added him to the Citizens'

Committee. They knew the sort of thing he had done, time and again, and

that he was not given to vain boastings. Also, they denounced their

chief State officials and the country generally for indifference and

inaction.

Captain McDonald now looked up his two men, Delling and McKenzie, to

learn what they had done. They had done a good deal in a quiet way.

They had discovered Mexicans living near the post who claimed to have

seen shots fired from there, before and during the raid, and to have

followed the track of the raiders by the flash of their guns. Further,

346
the Rangers had learned that a squad of soldiers, with Captain Lyon of

Company C, had visited the jail immediately after the shooting-up of

the town, claiming that citizens had fired on the post, and making a

demand for Captain Macklin (white) and Corporal Miller (colored), of

Company B. Captain Lyon had not explained why he expected to find these

officers in jail, perhaps leaving it to be assumed that they had taken

refuge there during the attack mentioned. Delling and McKenzie also

had located two ex-soldiers (negroes) supposed to have been out with

the mob--at least, it seemed certain that they had inside knowledge

of the matter. One of these ex-soldiers kept a saloon a distance

from the center of the town, and the Rangers had ascertained that on

the evening of the raid this saloon had closed earlier than usual, a

suspicious circumstance. McDonald and his men worked most of the night,

continuing these investigations. They located one of the ex-soldiers

and lodged him in jail, where Captain Bill put him through a sort of

"third degree" examination. Later he looked up the prisoner's wife and

questioned her. By morning he had learned enough to warrant him in

beginning an investigation in the fort itself.

With his sergeant, W.J. McCauley, "one of the bravest and best," he was

on his way to the fort next morning, when he was stopped by members of

the Citizens' Committee.

"You can never go into that fort and come out alive," they said.

347
"Why not?"

"Because those men are all under arms, and excited. Unless you can show

an order from Major Penrose they will shoot you down, sure."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to get any order from Penrose.

Them niggers have violated the laws of the State, and it's my duty to

investigate the crime. I never yet had to have an order to go any place

my duty called me. I'm going into that fort, and the only pass I want

I've got right here."

The Captain carried an automatic shot-gun that would go off about half

a dozen times a second, and his sergeant bore a Winchester repeating

rifle, also automatic in its action. These lay in position for easy and

immediate use. The two men had been together in many conflicts, and had

faced death too often to waver now. McKenzie, Delling and Ryan had been

left behind so that in event of a fight at the entrance, and another

outbreak, the town would not be without protection. The committee

stepped aside, and McDonald and McCauley proceeded to the garrison. At

the entrance they were suddenly confronted by a file of about twenty

soldiers, with rifles leveled.

"Halt!"

348
Captain Bill and his sergeant never even hesitated. With their own arms

in position for instant action they marched steadily into the muzzles

of those leveled guns--the Captain, meantime, admonishing the men

behind them.

"You niggers, hold up there! You've already got into trouble with them

old guns of yours. I'm Captain McDonald, of the State Rangers, and I'm

down here to investigate a foul murder you scoundrels have committed.

I'll show you niggers something you've never been use' to. _Put up them

guns!_"

And the guns went up, with the quick, concerted movement of a drill.

There was something in that total disregard of danger--in that tone

and manner and in those eyes, now gray and hard and penetrating--that

inspired awe and obedience. Captain Bill gave them no time to reflect.

"Now, where's Major Penrose?" he said.

The negroes became respectful, even deferential. One of them said:

"Yes, suh, cap'n--yes, suh. Major Penrose is right over in his

house--second building, suh."

"One of you niggers come and show him to me."

349
Captain Bill, it may be remembered, does not mince his words. A white

man who has committed a crime is, to him, always a "scoundrel," or

worse, openly. A black offender, to him, is not a negro, or a colored

man, but a "nigger," usually with pictorial adjectives.

One of the men now hastily escorted the Ranger Captain and his sergeant

to Major Penrose's headquarters. Major Blocksom, who already, perhaps,

had seen enough to warrant his subsequent characterization of Captain

Bill's willingness to "charge hell with a bucket of water," was on

hand; also, District Attorney Kleiber. As the Captain entered, he said:

"I am Captain McDonald, of the State Rangers. I am here to investigate

a very foul murder, which these men of yours have committed."

Major Penrose, rising, said:

"Come into my office."

They went in, followed by the others. Captain McDonald seated himself

at the end of the table, with Sergeant McCauley at his left and Major

Penrose at his right. Attorney Kleiber and Major Blocksom sat below, on

either side. The court of inquiry was open. There were no preliminaries.

350
"Major Penrose," Captain Bill began, "I have come here to see what you

can tell me about this murder that has been committed in Brownsville."

Penrose replied readily, and with apparent frankness:

"I can tell you absolutely nothing. I cannot find out a thing from my

men."

Captain Bill faced him steadily.

"Well, it seems very strange to me," he said, "that you cannot find

out anything about your own men. I've been in charge of men for twenty

years, and I've never had any that I couldn't find out anything I

wanted to know from, if they knew it."

Major Penrose looked a trifle depressed.

"Here in a little camp of less than two hundred men," Captain Bill went

on, "fifteen or twenty of them break out and shoot into people's houses

and commit murder and then come back to quarters. And yet you can't

detect any of the criminals. How about the officer of the day and the

guard in charge of the guns and ammunition? Don't they know anything?"

Major Penrose shifted a little.

351
"The colored officers probably know whatever there is to know about

this matter," he said, "but I have no way of getting it out of them."

"Well then, I have," declared Captain Bill.

"Very well," assented Penrose, "I wish you would do it."

The Ranger Captain became suddenly a fox--his ears alert, his nose

sharp, his eyes needle-pointed.

"What niggers were out that night?" he asked.

"Only two were out that night, and all answered to roll-call, at eight

and eleven o'clock."

"You are sure only two were out that night?"

"Perfectly sure."

"How about Corporal Miller and Sergeant Jackson?"

"Corporal Miller was here, I know, because I saw him. Captain Macklin

also saw him and talked with him."

352
"Where was Captain Macklin, at the time?"

"He was officer of the day, and in charge that evening."

"Send and get Captain Macklin; I want to talk to him."

Captain Macklin of Company B arrived, wearing a sort of uneasy bravado,

which did not improve under Captain Bill's keen scrutiny.

"How many of your men, Captain Macklin, had passes on the evening of

August 13th?" was the first question.

"Only two," replied Macklin, giving two names not down on Captain

McDonald's list of suspects.

"Where were the others?"

"They were all in the barracks and answered to eight o'clock and eleven

o'clock roll-call."

"What happened after that time?"

"I don't know. I went to my quarters soon after eleven o'clock and

353
turned in a little before twelve. I was asleep when I heard somebody

knock on my door. I got up and found it was about ten minutes after

midnight. I didn't know what the knock was for, so I smoked a couple of

pipes and drank a bottle of beer and went back to bed. I got up again

at three o'clock, when everything was in commotion."

"Now, Macklin, your quarters are just back of Company B's barracks; it

was a hot night and the windows were open, and according to your own

story you were awake just when all this shooting and racket and the

call to arms came off. How does it come you didn't hear it?"

Captain Macklin looked rather discomposed.

"Well, I was only awake a little while, and of course I was pretty

sleepy."

"You were awake enough to smoke two pipes and drink a bottle of beer?"

"Yes."

"And you couldn't have done it in a minute."

"Well, no."

354
"And yet you say you didn't hear a thing of what was going on outside?"

"Well, of course, I suppose I did hear noises, but I didn't think them

anything unusual."

"Nothing unusual about shooting and bugle blowing and a general call to

arms?"

"I didn't say that I heard those. Of course I didn't hear them."

"How did it happen, Macklin, that Captain Lyon and some men, after the

raid that night, went to the jail to find you?"

"They didn't do it. I never heard of it, at all."

"Where was Corporal Miller that night?"

Captain Macklin was clearly relieved to get away from the story of his

own personal movements on the night of that fateful 13th.

"Corporal Miller was in the barracks. He was present at both

roll-calls."

"Very well, send for Corporal Miller. Send and get that Miller nigger

355
and let me talk to him."

Corporal Miller came promptly. He carried his gun and wore the air of a

major general. His manner was distinctly defiant and insolent. Nobody

said anything for a moment, but Captain Bill's X-ray eyes were boring

him through. Miller grew uneasy, shifted his feet and seemed to be

shriveling. Major Blocksom said:

"Corporal, Captain McDonald wants to ask you some questions. Set your

gun down over there."

Miller obeyed rather sullenly, and came to attention.

"Miller," said Captain Bill, "where were you on the night this murder

was committed?"

The tone and directness of the question dazed the man. He did not

immediately find words. The Captain repeated:

"I want you to tell me, Miller, where you were when this murder was

committed, on the night of August the 13th."

If Corporal Miller had any other story to tell, he had forgotten it.

356
"I was down town," he said.

"How long had you been down there?"

"All the evening, ever since dark."

"Where were you before that?"

"I was over in Matamoras. I came back to Mack Hamilton's house

(Hamilton was the ex-soldier already in jail), and sat talking to his

wife. Then I went up town. When the shooting happened, I was down the

other side the beef market, at a saloon."

Captain Bill's eyes gleamed a little. All of this was in direct

contradiction to the testimony of Major Penrose and Captain Macklin.

"Now, Miller," he said, "you couldn't have been anywhere you say,

because you were here at eight o'clock and eleven o'clock, and answered

to roll-call."

It was impossible for the man to reason, just then. He only realized

that his statement was being contradicted, and that he was on the

defensive.

357
"I reckon I know where I was!" he said sullenly.

Captain Bill was seemingly aroused.

"You scoundrel, don't you give me any of your back talk! You answer my

questions, sir!"

At this point Major Penrose interposed a query as to the whereabouts

of Miller at some previous time--during a shooting affair that

had occurred ten years before. Captain Bill promptly checked this

diversion. He said:

"Hold on there, Penrose, we don't care for that now. I'm investigating

what happened last week. You-all failed to find out anything. I'm

finding out something. When I get through with Miller you can ask him

about ninety-six or seventy-six, if you want to." Then, to Miller:

"What did you do after the shooting?"

The man's reply became a mixture of incongruities. He had stayed at

the saloon, he said, until all was quiet, about one o'clock. Then he

had come up to the Post, to defend it, having heard that it had been

attacked by citizens. Captain Lyon had a squad of forty-five men out

looking for Captain Macklin at the jail. He, Miller, had taken a gun

from a gun-rack that had been broken open, and joined the search. He

358
didn't know why Captain Lyon had expected to find Captain Macklin in

jail.

Corporal Miller was excused and other negroes summoned and examined.

Their stories were confused, contradictory and full of guilt. Finally

a soldier appeared, whose name, C.W. Askew, corresponded with the

initials written in the cap, found in the street the morning after the

raid.

Askew came in with the usual "sassy" look, faced Captain Bill, wilted,

and lost his memory. He had previously lost his hearing, it would seem,

for like Captain Macklin, he had heard nothing of the shooting, or the

confusion, until the call to arms, when he had hurried to a rack that

was broken open and got the first gun he came to.

"Let me see your cap," said Captain McDonald.

Askew handed it over.

The cap was a new one. Inside were the initials, "C.W.A." freshly

written and corresponding exactly with those in the cap found on the

street.

Captain Bill handed it back.

359
"Where is your old one?" he said.

"I've got two or three old ones."

"I want to see them; get them and bring them here."

Askew started for his caps and Captain Macklin went with him. They

returned, presently, with two old caps, in size 7-1/4 and 7-3/4,

respectively. Askew's new cap and the one found in the mud were both

number 7's. Captain Bill look them over, then turned to Askew.

"Don't you generally write your name in your caps?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, most generally. Anyhow, I do sometimes."

"Did you write your initials in this new cap? Is the handwriting yours!"

"Yes, sir."

"That will do. You can go, now."

C.W. Askew of Company B, Twenty-seventh Infantry, withdrew, and Captain

Bill was alone with his board of inquiry. For some moments he regarded

360
the two officers with silent scorn. Then, to Major Penrose, he said:

"When I came here you told me you couldn't find out anything. I've been

here a half an hour and I've found out enough, with what I got last

night, to warrant me in charging a bunch of your men with murder. How

do you explain that?"

Major Penrose's face showed that he was unhappy. He said:

"You have had more experience in such matters, and understand better

how to go at it than I do."

"Yes, I have only asked for the facts--that's all. I didn't try to

get anybody to tell me a lie. I've found that a whole bunch of these

niggers was out that you and your captain said was in. You-all are

trying to cover up this matter, and it makes you just as sorry and

guilty as these niggers, making you accessories to the crime."

In employing the word "sorry" here, Captain Bill meant "mean" and

"paltry," but any one could see that the word applied equally well in

its other uses.

"You are sorrier than these niggers," he went on, "because you, as

their officers, and as men of the United States Army, ought to be first

361
to hunt out the guilty ones, instead of trying to hide them. As for

Macklin there I think he was out with the niggers, and when he didn't

come home with them--he having got scared and hid out, I reckon--they

thought he'd got caught and put in jail."[16]

Captain Bill turned to District Attorney Kleiber.

"I want to make a complaint," he said, "against these men here for

being accessories to this murder by trying to cover it up. If this kind

of thing is going on in the army, it's time the country found it out."

Neither Major Penrose nor Captain Macklin made any coherent defense

to these charges, and Captain McDonald, with his sergeant, left the

Post. The Rangers spent the rest of the day in completing the evidence

against the thirteen suspects--one ex-soldier and twelve privates of

Company B. It did not appear that members of the other two companies

had taken part in the raid, though there was plenty of evidence to show

that many of them had full knowledge of the affair and of the parties

concerned. District Judge Welch issued the warrants, declaring the

evidence amply sufficient, and heartily approving Captain McDonald's

action throughout--District Attorney Kleiber assenting. They agreed

that the statutes clearly gave the Ranger Captain the right to arrest

and hold any offender against the State law, whether in federal or

civil employ. The cases of Officers Penrose and Macklin, however, they

362
decided to leave to military tribunals.

On the following morning, Thursday, August 23d, armed with the

warrants, Captain McDonald and Sergeant McCauley again appeared at the

entrance of Fort Brown. Evidently the garrison had recovered its poise

a little over-night, and was again defiant, for once more a file of men

with guns stood there to bar admission. Among this guard were Corporal

Miller, Sergeant Jackson and most of the other suspects. As the Rangers

approached, the U.S. rifles once more came to a level accompanied, as

before by the peremptory word,

"Halt!"

Captain Bill, looking along the barrel of his automatic shot-gun, was

inclined to be almost polite.

"What do you damned niggers want, this time?" he said.

"You must get an order from Major Penrose to come in here to-day," was

the answer.

"You niggers put up them guns! You've already committed one murder!"

was Captain Bill's single comment as with Sergeant McCauley he pushed

straight ahead. Both Rangers entered with their own guns leveled, and

363
would have opened fire instantly had there been the slightest movement

on the part of the guard. But whatever their orders, the negroes gave

way and made no further resistance.

The Rangers presently found Major Penrose and showed him a warrant for

twelve of his men. The officer appeared to have cheered up a bit. He

ran down the list with quite a business-like air.

"You've got six or eight of the right men," he said, "but the others

were not in it."

"Oh, then you do know that some of your men are guilty--and who they

are," commented Captain Bill. "Well, pick 'em out. Which ones are

they?"

Penrose hesitated.

"I mean that you have six or eight of the right kind of men," he

qualified.

"All right, then pick out the ones that are not the right kind of men."

But the major would not or could not undertake to do this. McDonald

then said:

364
"Now, I'll tell you what I want you to do with these men. I don't want

to put them in the jail; the sheriff is no good, and it would take too

many of my men to guard them. I want you to put them in the guardhouse

here and hold them on this warrant until I get through investigating.

Will you do that much?"

Penrose first refused, but Major Blocksom, who was present, said

that this was a fair proposition, and the major agreed to do it. The

men were placed under guard and there seemed a reasonable chance

that the whole matter would be sifted by the courts and that the

guilty would be punished. The Rangers left the garrison to continue

their inquiries about town, in the pursuit of further evidence, well

satisfied with their progress thus far, and greeted everywhere with the

congratulations of thankful citizens.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 16: "Captain Lyon claimed he could not find Captain Macklin

anywhere and went to the jail and other places looking for him....

Some of Lyon's men after leaving the jail met five white gentlemen

and threatened to shoot hell out of them and called them 'd--d white

s--o--b--.' I have their names (meaning the names of the gentlemen),

and some of them claim they could identify the soldiers that used

365
this epithet.... Lyon and his crowd then went to where the murder was

committed and found a policeman with a gun, and one of them said:

'There is a s-- of a b-- now with a gun.' The whole crowd of forty-five

men cocked their guns on him and would have taken his gun, but he was

one that was not afraid of them and talked back to the black devils,

and of course they let him alone."

_From Captain McDonald's report to Governor Lanham and

Adjutant-General Hulen._]

XL

What Finally Happened at Brownsville

HOW STATE OFFICERS FAILED TO SUPPORT THE MEN WHO QUIETED

DISORDER AND

LOCATED CRIME

But, meantime, something was going on. Telegrams were racing to and fro

between Fort Brown and Washington, and in the course of the day Captain

366
McDonald noticed that Major Penrose and his officers were paying

visits to prominent Brownsville attorneys. A whisper came to him that

the three companies were to be moved--the prisoners with the others.

Noticing that the major and his companions went into the office of

James B. Wells--a prominent lawyer, formerly judge of the district--the

Ranger Captain and one of his men followed them. Immediately upon

the entrance of the Rangers, the conference, such as it was broke

up. Evidently something was on foot, but Captain McDonald, strong in

his faith in the law as expounded to him by Judge Welch and Attorney

Kleiber; also, in the co-operation of these officials, expected nothing

more serious than the removal of the remainder of the troops. An order

for such removal was, in fact, received on that day--August 23d.

It was on Friday, the 24th, that matters reached a climax. Early that

morning Judge Wells--"Jim" Wells, as he was familiarly called--met

Captain McDonald with some news. (The two were of old acquaintance.)

Wells said:

"They are going to take your prisoners away, Bill, and you can't help

yourself."

"The hell I can't! I'd like to see them take my niggers away from me,

and me with warrants for them, issued on the authority of the judge and

attorney of this district. Where'd you get your information?"

367
Wells replied that it had come through the telegraph operator, and that

the order was to move the prisoners with the balance of the troops.

Captain Bill did not fully credit this news, but he set out at once

for the office of Judge Welch, who had issued the warrants. In front

of the clerk's office he met Welch; also, District Attorney Kleiber

and Major Blocksom. Captain Bill suspected that Major Blocksom was in

league with Penrose to get the prisoners away, and he did not much like

the appearance of the three there together. With his usual frankness he

stated what was in his mind, adding the information just received from

Judge Wells. He was assured by Judge Welch that no movement looking to

the removal of the prisoners was in progress, and by Major Blocksom

that Major Penrose's agreement to hold the prisoners subject to his

(McDonald's) orders would be carried out.

Still, the captain was not entirely satisfied. For some reason there

appeared to be a change in the official atmosphere of Brownsville

since his arrival. When the city was in despair, he had been welcomed

with open arms and accorded all authority. Now that he had entered the

dreaded stronghold, in defiance of loaded muskets, and placed the very

criminals behind them under arrest; now that nobody was any longer

afraid of an outbreak, and women and children could sleep at night,

there seemed a disposition to ignore his work and his authority. He

could not believe that in their anxiety to be rid of the negro troops,

368
the citizens of Brownsville would willingly surrender men who had

committed murder in the streets, and trust to the meager chance of the

offenders getting justice in a military investigation, a sample of

which the city had already seen. It was his purpose not to allow the

accused men to leave the jurisdiction of the county until a complete

investigation could be made. He was satisfied that Major Penrose and

his associates were fighting that investigation, and he suspected

that they had by some means obtained the co-operation of the local

authorities.

While considering what to do next, Captain Bill became aware that a

company of negro troops had already left the Fort and were marching to

the railway station. Promptly mustering his Rangers he accompanied the

soldiers, making sure, meantime, that they had none of his prisoners

among them. As a precaution against being taken unawares, he then

notified the railway officials that the special train made up for the

removal of the troops would not be permitted to leave Brownsville until

he was satisfied that it had none of his prisoners aboard. It did not

occur to Captain Bill that there was any suggestion of humor in the

fact that he was ranging himself, with his little company, against what

is usually regarded as a strong combination--a railroad company backed

by the United States Army; the latter represented by three companies of

armed and unruly negroes. It may be added that in the performance of

his duty he would without a moment's hesitation have opened fire on all

369
three companies. Captain Bill has almost no sense of humor, sometimes.

Returning from the station he saw another company of soldiers leaving

Fort Brown. Seeing the approach of the Rangers, this company halted,

hesitated, wheeled and once more entered the fort. The Rangers now

arrayed themselves in front of the entrance, and stood guard. Presently

the company that had marched to the station also returned and entered

the enclosure. Nothing further happened. Nobody else attempted to leave

the Fort. By and by, the Ranger Captain left his men on guard and went

over to the office of District Judge Welch. As he entered, he noticed

that Major Penrose and one of his officers, Captain Lyon, were in close

conversation with Welch, and he heard Welch say:

"Well, that will be all right!"

Captain did not hesitate.

"Judge," he said earnestly, "you are not compromising with these

people?"

"No, Captain, but the Major here has some orders about these men. I've

agreed to send them out of the State, after we get through with them,

so they won't be bothered," and to Penrose he added: "This is the man

who will have to escort them out."

370
Captain Bill regarded him sternly. He believed this to be a subterfuge.

"Judge," he said, "those niggers are not going to be moved from here.

They are my prisoners, and I'm going to hold them. I'm going to wire to

the Governor for assistance to help me hold them."

"And I am going to move them away," said Penrose, "for I have an order

from the President to do it."

Captain Bill looked interested.

"I should like to see something from President Roosevelt," he said. "I

was on a wolf hunt with him once, and I know him very well. I should

like to see something from the President."

Major Penrose replied:

"This is confidential. I have shown it to the judge, here; he can tell

you."

"If it is confidential, how in the devil can you show it to the judge,

and not to me, when they're my prisoners, and I'm here representing the

State?"

371
Penrose qualified:

"It isn't exactly from the President; it's from the Secretary of War."

"Well, I should like to see that."

"I'm sorry, but I can't show it to you. I'm going to move those men,

however, at all hazards."

"And I'm going to hold them at all hazards, until I get orders from

Governor Lanham to the contrary. I'm going now to wire for instructions

and assistance, and with my four men I can hold them niggers, and your

whole command, if necessary, until the Governor says to let them go."

Captain McDonald wired Governor Lanham immediately, as follows:

"To Gov. S.W.T. Lanham and Gen. John A. Hulen, Austin, Texas.

"The military authorities are trying to take our prisoners from here

for the purpose of defending them and defeating justice, and will

attempt to do so at once, over my protest. Please send assistance

to prevent this outrage. The officers are trying to cover up the

diabolical crime that I am about to uncover, and it will be a shame

372
to allow this to be done. I turned warrants over to them in due form,

with the promise that they would hold the prisoners in the guardhouse,

and turn them over to me when called for. Everything is quiet, but I

propose to do my duty.

"Signed, W.J. MCDONALD,

"Capt. Co. B, Ranger Force."

No reply came from the Governor after a reasonable wait, and without

further delay Captain McDonald sent to the fort a formal demand for

his prisoners, reviewing fully the nature of their offence. Major

Penrose replied that he had been directed by higher authority to assure

the safety of the said prisoners, and added that when such safety was

assured they would be delivered to the civil authorities for trial. He

added further,

"_After a most careful investigation I am unable to find anyone, or

party, in any way connected with the crime of which you speak._"

The cat was out of the bag, and in full view, now. Major Penrose,

regardless of the revelations made in his office, two days before (or,

perhaps, because of them); regardless also of his own confession that

Captain McDonald had got at least six of the right men, had determined

now to make a general and complete denial. He had consulted legal

373
advice--the best in Brownsville--and the result was a plea of "not

guilty" for the entire command.

The captain immediately repeated the demand for his prisoners, closing

his note by requesting Major Penrose, politely enough, to wait until he

(McDonald) had received instructions from his superior officers (the

governor and adjutant general), before attempting to move the men.

Major Penrose made no reply to this, and the eventful day wore on.

Toward evening it was noticed that a group of officials was gathering

in the office of Judge Wells. Captain Bill took one of his men and

went over there, each carrying an automatic gun across his arm, as

usual. They entered unnoticed, and found a group which included Judge

Welch, Attorney Kleiber, Mayor Combe, Congressman Garner, State Senator

Willacy and others. Some very earnest talk was in progress in this

group, concerning a row and bloodshed which Bill McDonald was likely to

bring down upon the community, when, as a matter of fact, the Rangers

had brought to the community the only sense of security it had known

since the raid. Judge Welch, who had been first to welcome the Ranger

Captain and to accord him authority, was now strenuously condemning

that very authority and advocating its removal. Just then he happened

to catch sight of Captain Bill and his Ranger, standing close by, their

guns across their arms. He came near falling over in his surprise and

there followed a moment of general embarrassment for the "Anti-Ranger"

374
party. Judge "Jim" Wells was the first to address the captain.

"Bill," he said, "you won't listen to us. You're going against the law

and you're going to start a row here that can't be stopped without

terrible sacrifice. Those nigger soldiers won't go away and leave those

prisoners behind without breaking out again, and next time it will be a

good deal worse. They think those prisoners will be lynched, if they're

left here. They'll look after them all right, and turn them over to the

proper authorities. Don't, for God's sake, get us into another row,

Bill."

The Ranger Captain looked from one to another.

"There was a row here before I came," he said. "There's been none

since. I come here when the town couldn't get anybody else to come,

and you fellows was all scared to death. As for the law, I didn't go

into that post until Judge Welch here and the district attorney told me

it was all right, and I arrested them niggers on warrants that Judge

Welch issued. It's a strange thing to me that the law ain't all right

to-day, when it was all right yesterday and day before. As for the rest

of the niggers leaving, they'll go fast enough when they get a chance,

and I'm going to keep my prisoners here till I get orders from Governor

Lanham to turn 'em loose. Furthermore, I don't believe the people of

Brownsville want them taken away from here, and I'll tell you right

375
now, that so long as I and my men are here, them niggers are in no

danger, nor the people neither."

Judge Welch spoke up. He said:

"You haven't any sense, McDonald. You're running up against the local

authorities as well as the United States. I'll settle this thing, right

here. I want those warrants."

"Judge," said Captain Bill, "those warrants are not returnable until

the third day of September, and this is the Twenty-fourth of August.

I'm going to hold that bunch of niggers with those warrants until I

hear from Governor Lanham. I've wired the governor for assistance, and

I'm waiting now to hear from him."

Congressman Garner spoke up at this point.

"That is a very reasonable request of Captain 'McDonald's," he said,

"that the prisoners be held until he can hear from the governor."

Captain Bill parleyed no further, but leaving the group, crossed over

to the Miller Hotel--the same that had been fired on by the mob.

Still no word from the governor and adjutant general. That they were

376
being bombarded with telegrams and protests, and that every influence

was being brought to bear, the Captain did not doubt. Yet he did not

wholly lose faith. He believed that in the end the governor would

stand by what had been done and support him in the position he had

taken. He left a part of his force to keep watch on the entrance of the

fort, and went in to supper. When he had finished, he came outside to

take his turn at standing guard. Presently he saw a body of armed men

approaching. There appeared to be forty or fifty of them, most of them

dressed in khaki, and in the dusk he at first took them to be soldiers.

Then as they drew nearer, he discovered that they were led by Judge

Welch, District Attorney Kleiber, and the Mexican sheriff, who for the

first time was taking an active part in the Brownsville drama--having

previously been safely locked up in his own jail. Viewed at this

distance of time and space, how silly it seems that those officials,

knowing Bill McDonald, as all Texas knew him, could have hoped to

frighten him with a nondescript muster like that. They drew their

posse--Mexican riff-raff--up in front of the hotel. Judge Welch asked:

"Where's Captain McDonald?"

Captain Bill himself came forward.

"What's the trouble, now, judge?" he said. "Looks like you're going to

war, with all these armed men."

377
"I've come for those warrants," said Welch. "I've got an order for

them."

"All right, Judge; you don't need an army, if you've got an order from

the proper authorities. Come in here by the light, where I can see it."

So they went in, followed by the Mexican sheriff and his khaki muster,

and all the other crowd that could get in--all the citizens and guests

of the hotel; the drummers and ranchmen and tourists--they all pushed

and elbowed in until the hotel lobby was full and the balcony around

the court was crowded (and there were ladies on the balcony), a fine

audience indeed for this, the closing scene. Everybody was inside that

could get in, now, and the room grew quiet. In the center of the lobby,

in a little group, were the chief actors. The Ranger Captain and his

sergeant stood together, their automatic guns, as usual, in position

for quick and easy service. They made a picturesque pair, with their

typical Texas hats, and arms, and dress, and their determined faces.

Judge Welch facing them, fumbled a little and produced his order.

Captain Bill held it to the light. It ran as follows:

"To Captain William J. McDonald, Company B, Ranger Force, Brownsville,

Texas.

378
"You are hereby directed and required to immediately turn over the

warrants for the twelve soldiers and one ex-soldier, delivered to you

for the arrest of these men, without any further attempt at execution

of the same.

"Signed, Stanley Welch, Dist. Judge,

"39th Dist. State of Tex."

Captain Bill finished reading and regarded the judge steadily.

"This is your own order, Judge," he said. "What is the meaning of it?"

Judge Welch started in to repeat some of the arguments of the afternoon.

"You won't take the advice of your best friends," he said, "and are

bound to start something here that will cause the blood to flow in

these streets."

Captain Bill looked at him and let his gun rest a little more easily on

his arm.

"If that is what you brought this gang here for, we'll start it now,"

he said.

379
There was a spontaneous round of applause, from both the lobby and the

balcony. The ladies in the latter strained forward to get a view of the

man who had defied a command of soldiers and who now, before their very

eyes, was facing a sheriff's armed posse, undismayed.

"I'll tell you, Judge," Captain Bill went on. "You-all look like

fifteen cents in Mexican money, to me, when I'm doing my duty, you and

your ki-ki militia here, and your Mexican sheriff that you told me

yourself was no good, and had done nothing, and was locked up in his

own jail for protection when I come here."

There was more applause at this point--also, laughter, the latter

rather nervous, on the part of the ladies. Captain Bill proceeded:

"Now, you bring him and his gang down here to arrest me for contempt of

court, I suppose--you, and your district attorney, after you both told

me that I had a full right to enter the post and use such means as was

necessary to bring those criminals to justice. Looks like as soon as I

get things started and some of the guilty men locked up, the law is all

changed and you come here demanding my warrants, and expect to put me

in jail if I don't give them up-is that it?"

Judge Welch assumed an air of superior virtue.

380
"I'm not afraid to do my duty," he blustered.

"Nor I," said Captain Bill, "so fly at it!"

There was more applause then, of course. It was the moment of the

dramatic climax--the instant for a telegram from the governor,

upholding the position of Captain Bill and putting his enemies to rout.

The stage machinery was perfect, too, for a telegram did indeed come at

that moment, only, instead of sustaining the chief actor in the drama,

it cut the ground from under his feet. Captain Bill took the yellow

envelope from the messenger, opened it and read the contents. There

were just two sentences. The first was equivocal and meant nothing. The

last meant surrender and humiliation.

"Austin, Texas, August 24, 1906.

"To Captain W.J. McDonald, Brownsville, Texas.

"Have requested Gen. McCaskey to prevent removal of soldiers charged

with recent murder. Consult district judge and sheriff and act under

and through them.

"Signed,

381
"S.W.T. LANHAM, Governor."

After all, it requires defeat to reveal true greatness. Few they are

who with the eyes of the multitude upon them can stand with calm eye

and steady nerve, unmoved and unfaltering, when the last support is

snatched away. It was all at an end, now; all his effort had gone for

little or nothing--his final hope had failed. But those watching him

could not have told that the crushing blow had fallen. He folded the

telegram with a hand that betrayed not the slightest tremor, and with a

voice that was entirely steady, and even pleasant, he said:

"Well, Judge, if nothing else will do you, I am ready, now, to give you

my warrant for those prisoners. Major Penrose has the other copy and is

holding them with it. I can get along, I guess, without a warrant. The

train won't leave until tomorrow morning, for the men in charge are

instructed not to leave until I say so, and I don't intend to say so,

to-night."

The crowd that had been still and breathless during the last few

moments, gave a great round of applause at this, and the drama was over.

Captain McDonald still had a very small hope that affairs might take a

turn before morning, and all night, with his little army, he patroled

the entrance of the fort to see that the prisoners were not moved.

382
That a battle would have followed any such attempt there is not the

least doubt. He withdrew all interference next morning, and the train

carrying the troops, including the prisoners, left about six o'clock,

for San Antonio. The prisoners were taken to Fort Sam Houston, the

remainder of the command to Fort Rena, Oklahoma. When the final

investigations took place, the man who, according to Major Blocksom,

had been willing to "charge hell with a bucket of water," in the cause

of justice and duty, was lying ill--the result of his old wounds

combined with the misery of unfair treatment. Sergeant McCauley, who

was ready with all the evidence, was invited to testify, and did so,

but not a single indictment was found by officials, civil or military.

The "conspiracy of silence was complete."[17]

But, perhaps, after all, the efforts of Captain Bill had not

been wholly without result; for he made a report of the matter to

Washington, and President Roosevelt, doubtless recalling that wolf-hunt

and knowing the integrity and courage of the writer, viewed that report

in the light of evidence. When the official verdict, "Not guilty,"

was reached, he dismissed, "without honor," the entire command of the

Twenty-fifth Infantry.

The Brownsville episode had become national history; a curious

chapter--the end of which would not soon be written.[18]

383
FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 17:

AUSTIN, TEXAS, Sept. 5, 1906.

To Whom it May Concern:

This is to certify that I did on yesterday examine Captain W.J.

McDonald and found him suffering from chronic bronchitis of both

lungs, but worse on the left side, having been shot and these organs

having been injured.

He is now suffering a great deal and very much debilitated. I advised

him to suspend his active life for a short while and to go to some

water-place for a few weeks of rest. I think it may take three or four

weeks for him to recuperate. Respectfully,

L.L. LACEY, M.D.

That Sergeant McCauley was on hand and turned over the cap marked

C.W.A. to the grand jury is shown by the following receipt:

BROWNSVILLE, TEXAS, Sept. 12, 1906.

384
Received from William J. McCauley, Sergeant Company B, State Rangers,

one United States soldier's cap, marked on sweat-band with name of

C.W. Askew.

WILLIAM VOLZ,

_Foreman of Grand Jury_.]

[Footnote 18: During 1908 a secret investigation was being conducted

by the War Department, with the result that President Roosevelt

recommended the reinstatement of such men as could establish their

innocence and were willing to help bring the guilty to justice. A

partial report of this investigation will be found in Appendix D, at

the end of this volume.

JUDGE'S WELCH'S CHARGE TO THE GRAND JURY.

However much we may be inclined to criticise Judge Welch's attitude

during Capt. McDonald's stay in Brownsville, his charge to the Grand

Jury that somewhat later took up the investigation, leaves little to be

desired. He said:

"And now, gentlemen of the Grand Jury, among the other responsible

duties of your position is that of making a full, thorough, and

385
complete investigation of the unprovoked, murderous, midnight assault

committed by the negro soldiers of the Twenty-fifth United States

Infantry upon the citizens and homes of Brownsville on the night of the

13th of August. An inoffensive citizen was shot down and killed by them

while closing his gate. An unwarranted and cowardly assault was made on

the Lieutenant of Police of Brownsville, and his arm shattered by their

bullets, requiring its amputation.

"Fiendish malice and hate, showing blacker than their skins, was

evidenced by their firing of volley after volley from deadly rifles

into and through the doors and windows of family residences, clearly

with the brutish hope on their part of killing women and children, and

thus make memorable their hatred for the white race. Hard words these,

but strictly true and warranted by uncontested facts.

"It was my province to come among your patient people even while

their terrible fears and horror of another outbreak were upon them,

and God spare me in my life the sorrow of ever again witnessing the

faces of agonized women and fear-stricken children, tensioned with

days and nights of suffering and waiting for relief, with none coming

from either Nation or State to give them assurance that greater and

unspeakable outrages were not to follow.

"Tardy relief did come. At the eleventh hour the fiends, who disgraced

386
the uniforms they were permitted to wear and shamed a nation, were

removed. That all of the three companies were blamable must be

conceded, for they knew who were guilty and they shielded and sheltered

them, and failed to give them up. Hence it is that it has been left to

the civil authorities of the State, and especially to this District

Court, to apprehend, if possible, those directly guilty of murder,

assault to murder, and the ruffianly conspiracies to that end, as

the authorities of the United States, in charge, have declared their

inability to discover who were the uniformed thugs and murders that

committed the outrages.

"The lengthy investigation of a committee of your leading citizens,

made while these outrages were fresh, is at your service. I also

present to you three affidavits made before me by W.J. McDonald,

Captain of Company B of the ranger force of Texas, against twelve of

the negro soldiers and one civilian, a negro ex-soldier. All these

parties are under arrest, and within the jurisdiction of the civil

authorities of the State, and to await the action of our courts. Hence

it is that if it has ever been known by committee, Sheriff, State

Ranger or other officer or individual who, if any of these men are

guilty, that knowledge should come to you as the grand inquisitorial

body that represents, not only the County of Cameron, but the State of

Texas.

387
"I have no hesitation in saying that I share in the universal belief

that among those under arrest are many of the murderers, but something

more than mere belief and opinion are required to vindicate the

law. Evidence must be had upon which to predicate an indictment,

and warrant a trial. If you indict on mere suspicion or opinion and

without evidence, you leave our people and community open to the charge

of injustice and the proceedings will resolve themselves into mere

delay, for in the end an indictment unsustained by evidence must be

dismissed."]

XLI

_The Battle on the Rio Grande_

ASSASSINATION OF JUDGE STANLEY WELCH. CAPTAIN BILL ORDERED

TO THE

SCENE. AN AMBUSH; A SURPRISE AND AN INQUEST

Within three months from the night of the Brownsville raid, there

occurred another tragedy in the banks of the Rio Grande. In the hours

388
of earliest morning of Tuesday, November 6th--Election Day--while

asleep in his office room at Rio Grande City, District Judge Stanley

Welch, prominently connected with the Brownsville episode, was shot

dead in his bed by some unknown assassin; this cowardly killing being

doubtless the harvest of factional discord, widely sown and carefully

tended in that hotbed of political corruption and violence along the

Mexican border.

Rio Grande City lies up the river from Brownsville a distance of about

one hundred miles. It is the county seat of Starr County, and has

no railroad nearer than Sam Fordyce, the terminus of the St. L.B. &

M., some twenty miles away. There are no railroads at all in Starr

County--a big county, full of cactus, hard, spiny mesquite grass,

Mexicans, and hot burning sand. Riot and plot would flourish naturally,

in a place like that, as they do in all Latin-American territory.

Starr County, in fact, is rather more Mexican than Mexico herself,

using the word to convey the less fortunate characteristics of that

hybrid race. It is not the better class of citizens that leave Mexico,

or Italy, or China, and the United States has suffered accordingly.

The border counties of Texas, because of their situation have been

peculiarly unfortunate in this regard. In Starr County the elective

offices are held almost entirely by Mexicans, and the struggle for

place is very fierce and bitter. Affairs generally are conducted by

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Mexicans, and even the schools are in Mexican hands. From a statement

concerning the school trustees and teachers, in Starr County, it

appears that out of twenty-four trustees only seven could speak and

write the English language, and out of thirty-nine teachers nineteen of

them had no knowledge whatever of our national tongue. Commenting on

this report, D.C. Rankin of Dallas, in an article in the Corpus Christi

Crony, says:

"The male teachers are political heelers for the party in power, and

the lady teachers are backed by workers in the ring.... No wonder that

law and order amount to nothing in that rotten section, and no wonder

that District Judge, Stanley Welch, was assassinated while asleep in

his bed. No wonder that when Rangers were sent there to preserve the

peace and protect the citizenship from the ravages of the so-called

Americanized Mexicans, that they were ambushed and fired upon by a lot

of these desperadoes."

It is this story of crime and ambush that we shall undertake to

tell in this chapter. When the assassination occurred, District

Attorney Kleiber, who also may be remembered as having figured in the

Brownsville story, was asleep in the room adjoining the one occupied

by Judge Welch--the two inhabiting a small one-story brick building

not far from the court-house. They had retired about the same time and

Kleiber slept soundly until next morning at seven. Hearing no movement

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in Judge Welch's room, he called, but received no answer. Thinking the

judge had overslept, Kleiber then rose, and opening the door between,

called again. The judge did not stir, and going nearer the district

attorney saw blood coming from his left side. Judge Welch was lying

on that side; the window behind him was up--the shutter closed. He

had been shot in the back, from without, through a broken slat in the

blind. Attorney Kleiber recalled having been partially roused from his

sleep by some sudden noise, and now supposed it to have been the fatal

shot.

Mr. Kleiber at once notified the authorities, and by eight o'clock

news of the murder was on the street. It was Election Day, as already

stated, and excitement followed the report, with demoralization among

the better element--the party to which Judge Welch belonged. It should

be explained here that the two parties in that section are the "Reds"

and the "Blues"--nominally Democrats and Republicans, though the

distinction would seem one of patronage rather than of politics. In Rio

Grande City the party of Judge Welch, called the Reds (Democrats)--is

in the minority.

On this Tuesday, November 6th, 1906, its franchise was even more

restricted than usual. When the fact of the murder became known about

fifty mounted men, "Blues," went through the crowds, demanding that

the polls be instantly opened. Local officers were either unwilling

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or unable to deal with this mob, and open warfare between the Blues

and the Reds was imminent. To avoid bloodshed, Chairman Seabury of

the Reds assembled the best men among the leaders of the Blues and

persuaded them to agree with him that no armed men should approach the

court-house, where the voting place had been established; also that one

man of each party should be appointed as special peace officer at the

polls, and that a Blue and a Red should vote alternately as long as

there existed material for such an arrangement.

The agreement was kept two hours, after which the Blues took possession

of the court-house; entered the door, and held the same, backed by

armed men on foot and on horseback, terrorizing and keeping out most of

the opposition voters. When the polls closed at 6:30 p.m., about one

hundred and twenty-five electors had not cast their votes.[19] There

had been plenty of intimidation and some personal violence, but no loss

of life. The elements for riot and bloodshed, however, were all there,

and it needed only a little brisk stirring to precipitate a general

killing.

Meantime, news of the murder of Judge Welch, with a report of the

general situation at Rio Grande City, and a request for Rangers, had

traveled overland to Sam Fordyce and by telegraph to Austin, not

arriving in time for action that day. Captain McDonald's territory

included Starr County--his headquarters having been removed to Alice

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in 1903,[20] and on Wednesday morning of November 7th, 1906, he was

called by telephone from the governor's office at Austin. Governor

Lanham himself was at the Austin end and conveyed the news of the

assassination, which McDonald had just learned from another source.

"How many men have you at Alice?" inquired the governor.

"Two, including myself. My sergeant, W.J. McCauley, is here. One of my

men is on a scout below Corpus Christi, and the other (his force had by

this time been reduced to three) is guarding two murderers at Edna."

"Captain," was the governor's next question, "would the fact that

you have not been favorably disposed toward Judge Welch since the

Brownsville affair make any difference in your undertaking this matter,

now?"

"If you think so, Governor, you ought to get another Ranger Captain

for this company; a Ranger that would let a thing like that make any

difference in a case of this kind would be no good for any purpose that

I know of."

"Well, then, Captain, take whatever force you have, and proceed as soon

as possible to Rio Grande City, and I will send additional men there,

as quickly as possible. I will wire the authorities that you are on the

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way with one Ranger and that more will follow at once."

"All right, Governor, I'll start first train, and do the best I can."

"And Captain" (The governor had suddenly remembered Brownsville).

"Yes, sir."

"Be conservative, Captain. Investigate, and try to quiet matters, but

be conservative, quite conservative, Captain."

"Yes, sir, Governor, all right. I'll be conservative--as conservative

as the circumstances will permit."

"Now, do that, Captain. Just quiet matters, and I'll send you

reinforcements at once. Only be as conservative as possible till they

come."

Captain Bill wasted no time in his preparation. The train would leave

in half and hour, and he didn't stop to pack a dress suit. He notified

McCauley, and gathered up a young fellow named Marsden, who had Ranger

ambitions, and started with such clothes and guns as he had on.

It is a slow, roundabout way from Alice to Rio Grande City. You have

394
to go from Alice over to Corpus Christi and there wait for a train

that takes you down to Harlingen. Then at Harlingen you must wait for

another train to take you to Sam Fordyce, and at Sam Fordyce you can

hire a hack that will carry you to Rio Grande City, unless you are

waylaid and murdered along that lonely road which follows the river and

winds between a thick growth of cactus, mesquite and all the thorny

rank vegetation of that sandy semi-tropical land. Starting from Alice

in the forenoon, one with good luck may reach Rio Grande City by ten

o'clock at night, though it will be safer to wait at Sam Fordyce until

next morning. Those who travel from Sam Fordyce to Rio Grande City

after nightfall, go armed, and need to.

Captain Bill had good luck on the way down. While waiting for the

Harlingen train at Corpus Christi he fell in with Sam McKenzie, his

ranger, who had been on a scout in that section, and at Harlingen he

found Blaze Delling, who had resigned from Company B to become U.S.

River Guard. He brought both men along, and with a force like that

he felt able to cope with a mob of whatever size or nationality. Of

course, nothing was known at Rio Grande City of the increase in the

Ranger army. It had been given out there that Captain McDonald and

one man had been ordered down, and that reinforcements would follow,

accordingly as Governor Lanham had wired.

The day was well along when the little army finally reached Sam Fordyce

395
and secured a conveyance for the final stage of their journey. An old

frontiersman by the name of Inman, who owned a hack and pair of small

mules, agreed to undertake the journey. It was late in the afternoon

when they started.

Night fell, clear and starlight, but there was no moon, and the narrow

winding southern road hedged thickly with mesquite and yucca and cactus

growth was dark enough, except here and there where it opened to the

river or to a hacienda (Mexican ranch), with its half dozen thatched

huts, or hackles, surrounded by brush fences.

The Rangers drove along quietly, speaking in low voices when they spoke

at all, peering into the darkness ahead, for they had no knowledge of

what conditions were awaiting them, or what they were likely to meet

along the way. Besides, it is the Ranger practice to go warily on dark

nights and not traverse an unknown road with festivity and boisterous

mirth.

It was about 8:30 o'clock and they had covered a little more than

half the distance to Rio Grande City, when they heard the noise of

approaching wheels and vaguely distinguished the outlines of some

vehicle in the darkness ahead. They were at the time about opposite

Casita Ranch--a poor place with the usual brush fences. Mr. Inman

slackened down his mules and pulled the Ranger hack a little to one

396
side of the road, supposing it to be only one of the traveling coaches

that make daily trips between Rio Grande City and the railway terminus.

But when the approaching vehicle was about thirty paces away, there was

a sudden flash in the dark, a report, and a bullet went singing over

the heads of the Rangers.

The Rangers were instantly in battle front, guns up and ready. They did

not fire at once, however, for there might be some mistake.

"Hold up there!" called McDonald. "We are Texas Rangers! Stop that

shooting!" and this admonition Private McKenzie quickly repeated in the

Mexican tongue.

[Illustration: CAPTAIN BILL'S LAST BATTLE.

"As pretty a fight as ever took place on the banks of the Rio Grande."]

There was no chance for mistake, after that. The hacks had been moving

right along and were now not more than twelve feet apart. Then the

approaching hack stopped and three figures with guns were seen to

leap to the ground. Captain Bill, who was standing up in the hack

with his Winchester leveled on them, thought at first that they

were getting out to surrender their arms, and three of his Rangers,

McCauley, McKenzie and Delling quickly jumped down, facing them. But at

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that instant the epithets "Cavarones!" and "Gringoes!" came from the

Mexicans, and then "Tetterly! Tetterly!" (Shoot! Shoot!) with which

signal the Mexicans, both on the ground and in the hack, let go at the

Rangers, point blank, while from behind the brush fence two guns in

ambush opened an enfilading fire.

Then for the thirty seconds or so that it lasted, there was as pretty

a fight as ever took place on the banks of the Rio Grande. With seven

Mexican and five Ranger rapid-fire guns going--a round dozen in

all--there was one continuous explosion, and an unceasing glare.

"From where I stood in the hack, I could see the whites of their eyes,"

Captain Bill said afterward, "and I felt as if I could pick the buttons

off their coats. I let go as fast as I knew how, and at a different

Mexican every time."

But though rapid, the Ranger fire was cool and accurate, while the

Mexican marksmanship was inexcusably bad.

In less than half a minute it was all over. The seven Mexican guns were

silenced, the Mexican force demolished. In the road, a man lay across

his gun, dead. Two were limping and staggering away--one with a broken

leg, the other to die; two more--the ambushers--were hiding in the

weeds (where they were presently captured), while in the Mexican hack,

398
which was now once more moving slowly along, was a freight of yet two

more, both dead.

Sergeant McCauley, from his position on the ground, looked up to where

Captain McDonald, still standing in the hack, was already reloading.

"Pretty little fight, Uncle Bill," he said, casual like.

"Yes," said Captain Bill, thoughtfully filling the magazine of his

Winchester, "but do you reckon the governor will think we've been

conservative enough?"

When the dead and wounded and prisoners were gathered and a general

observation of the field was taken, it was found, from the empty

shells, that each side had fired about an equal number of shots--some

sixty, in all.

Marvelous as it may seem, not a Ranger was touched by any of the thirty

or more shots fired at them, though Mr. Inman, the driver, got a pretty

hot bullet through the very narrow space just under his arm a bullet

that cut his undershirt and scorched his skin, and made him think for

the moment that he was wounded. Old veteran that he was, he sat quietly

holding his team--a silent observer of the spectacle--only regretting

that, being unarmed, he could not have a more active part.

399
Captain Bill now took Delling and started for Rio Grande City,

leaving the remainder of his force in charge of the dead, wounded and

prisoners. They kept a sharp lookout for new attacking parties as

they drove along, and discussed the recent battle in voices that were

jubilant, but modulated.

"Of course, from the governor's telegram, they only expected to meet

two men," Captain Bill reflected. "It must have been a sunrise when

they suddenly found five guns going." And a little later, speaking out

of what seemed a troubled conscience, "But I'm afraid the Governor

won't think I was conservative."

Then presently they met two more vehicles coming, this time in a hurry.

Ready for action, the Rangers waited until they were up close, then

stopped them. They, also, had come to meet the Rangers, but this time

with a note from the county judge, telling them to hurry, as the town

was up in arms, and an outbreak was momentarily expected.

Captain McDonald sent one of the hacks after his men and their

prisoners, with orders to get Mexicans from the Casita Ranch to watch

the dead men until the inquest, next day. Then with the other hack he

pushed on to Rio Grande City. From the tone of the judge's note he

expected to find matters in a desperate condition. When he arrived,

400
however, there seemed to be no special excitement. Everybody was armed

and there were groups on the street, but there was little noise or

open disturbance. The Ranger Captain looked up the judge and sheriff

and made a report of his battle and its results, the news of which was

soon both general and effective. When he went out among the crowds and

told them to disarm--to go home and put their guns away and quit their

foolishness--it was like the dismissal of a State encampment. By the

time his men arrived everything was peaceable. It was too late that

night to make a report to the governor, but Captain Bill summed up the

situation in a telegram next morning. Governor Lanham had protested at

the length and cost of a telegraphic report from Brownsville; this time

there was no waste of words.

"Rio Grande City, Nov. 8, 1906.

"Gov. S.W.T. Lanham,

"Austin, Texas.

"We were ambushed; four Mexicans dead, one wounded, two captured;

preparing to hold inquest. Everybody disarmed; everything quiet.

"W.J. MCDONALD,

"Capt. Co. B,

"Ranger Force."

401
That told the story, adequately, cheaply and modestly. The papers over

the State made a good deal to-do over it, and reviewed Captain Bill's

other exploits--real and imaginary--but to him it was only in the day's

work, the work he had been carrying on for a long time, now, nearly a

quarter of a century.[21]

The inquest was held that morning according to program, and the verdict

justified the Rangers. After which, the four unlucky Ranger-hunters

were buried in a lonely old graveyard near the place where they fell.

The names of the four were, Farias, Osuna, Vincia and Perez--all known

in Rio Grande City. Their comrade who was wounded, another Osuna,

confirmed the Rangers' account of the battle. The original plan had

been for all to lie in ambush behind the fence and fire on the Rangers

deliberately, at close range. Losing patience, however, in an attempt

to clamber over the thick barrier, all but two decided to remain in the

hack.

The better element of Rio Grande City, though rejoicing over the

results of the ambush, were naturally apprehensive as to what might

happen next. Friends of the dead men were numerous, and it was believed

that a bloody outbreak with reprisals would follow. Captain McDonald

assured the citizens that he had no such fears, and the arrival of

State troops and Ranger Company D, Captain Hughes, helped to restore

402
confidence.

Captain Bill did not remain long in Rio Grande City. He was still

engaged in solving the Conditt problem at Edna and could not undertake

to unravel the mystery of Judge Welch's assassination. It remains

unraveled to this day. Perhaps time will furnish a clue. Perhaps the

secret lies buried in the old graveyard back of the Casita Ranch.

Nothing was ever done with the prisoners taken by the Rangers. That is,

nothing was done with the two men caught in ambush. The wounded man was

afterward made deputy sheriff, probably as a reward of merit for having

engaged in a shooting match with the Rangers and escaped alive.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 19: For further details of the condition at Rio Grande City

at this time, see Appendix E.]

[Footnote 20: Company B had been transferred from Amarillo to Fort

Hancock in 1902 for a comparatively brief period.]

[Footnote 21: "The Fort Worth Record," commenting on this report,

compared it to Perry's famous "We have met the enemy and they are

ours." The Record adds: "Perry and McDonald are made of the same stuff.

403
If McDonald had been in Perry's place he would have been equal to the

emergency. If Perry had been in McDonald's place he couldn't have done

better."]

XLII

The End of Rangering and a New Appointment

STATE REVENUE AGENT OF TEXAS. THE "FULL RENDITION" BILL EN-

FORCED. A

GREAT BATTLE AND A BLOODLESS TRIUMPH

The Rio Grande affair was Captain Bill's last Ranger service of

dramatic importance. He was continuously busy during the two months

that elapsed between that episode and his official retirement, but it

was only in the usual line of duty, chasing murderers, putting down

riot and disarming unruly men--the things he had done so often that to

look back on his career now was to gaze down a kaleidoscopic vista of

death and disorder--a whirling maze of bad men and guns.

404
It was in January, 1907, that he went to Bellville as a witness in a

murder case, and it was while he was there, January 16th, that Governor

T.M. Campbell, who had just succeeded Governor Lanham, appointed him

State Revenue Agent of Texas. Captain Bill's first knowledge of the

matter came to him through the morning paper at Bellville. When his

duties were over there, he set out for Austin to inquire into it.

He knew that a State Revenue Agent was appointed to keep a general

supervision over the collection of the State revenues--taxes, license

money and the like--but he had only a dim idea as to the specific

duties of the office. He was by no means certain that he wanted to

exchange the wide free life of Rangering, whatever might be its

drawbacks, for the routine duties of an office in the Capitol, with

a desk, a revolving chair and a stenographer, whatever might be

the comforts and perquisites of these things. He was no longer a

young man, and he had been shot through from different directions.

Desperate wounds, long hard vigils, cold and exposure, had left him

weather-beaten and with shoulders and chest no longer as full and erect

as in the old days. Yet his eye was just as clear, his ear as alert and

his nerve as steady as in the beginning, and if this appointment was

merely a sinecure; a reward for deeds performed--a sort of official

manifest that he was down and out--he would have none of it. He could

_wear_ out, and he might some day stop a conclusive bullet, but he

declined to _rust_ out.

405
Perhaps there was a pretty general belief in Texas that Captain

McDonald's appointment was, in fact, a sinecure, but if so the idea

was transient. Arriving at the State Capitol, he called on Governor

Campbell, without delay.

"How about this appointment, Governor?" he said. "What kind of a job is

it?"

"Well, it's a better job than you've got, Captain. The pay is better

and it's safer, too. You're going to die, or be killed, someday, going

about in all kinds of weather and getting shot at, from ambush. We

can't afford to lose you, just yet."

"Thank you, Governor, I don't want to be lost, either," Captain Bill

said in his gentle drawl, "but I don't know as I can fill the bill.

What do I have to do as State Revenue Agent, anyway. No chance to

handle a gun, is there? I can do that about as well as anything."

Governor Campbell laughed and handed Captain Bill a copy of the

statutes.

"There's the law, on the subject," he said. "You'll find all the

information you need, right there."

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Captain Bill took the book and spent several days reading and

re-reading whatever he could find bearing on the matter of tax-paying;

also on the duties of tax-assessors and tax-gatherers in general, and

on those of the State Revenue Agent in particular. He found that he

knew a good deal on the subject, after all; not in technical detail,

perhaps, but fundamentally and vitally. In his wide general knowledge

of the conditions prevailing in every portion of the State he knew that

the poorest counties--those least able to bear the burden--carried a

disproportionate load of the State expenses. He had never given the

matter much consideration before, taking it for granted that in a

new county, and a poor county, taxes could not help being high. This

was true, no doubt, but he saw clearly enough, now, that in such

counties, taxes had been by far too high, all along, and that the "Full

Rendition" law provided a remedy for just that thing. Captain Bill had

but one idea about law, which was that it must be enforced. To enforce

that law would be interesting, and righteous. He went back to Governor

Campbell.

"Governor," he said, "I think this job will suit me pretty well, if I

can run it my way."

"Well, Captain, that was what you were appointed for."

"Governor," Captain Bill proceeded, "there's some of our counties and

407
people paying twice as much tax as they ought to, and some of them, the

ones that ought to pay most, and the railroads and corporations, are

not paying half enough."

Governor Campbell nodded.

"How would you rectify that, Captain?" he asked.

"Well, you see, the tax rate is the same for all counties, and the

poor counties to provide for their own home expenses have to assess on

a high valuation in order to make the amount big enough to go around,

while the rich counties that are practically out of debt assess on

a low valuation, sometimes not more than a fourth the value of the

property. That might be all right if it was only the _home_ levy that

counted, but you see the _State_ levy is assessed on the same valuation

as the home levy, and the result is that a county that is in debt is

paying State taxes on a valuation about twice or three times as big as

those big rich counties that have had the most benefit from the State

and are best able to pay for it. Why those old rich counties get an

allowance of school money from the State that is actually more than

all the taxes they turn in. Now the way to fix that is to make all the

counties assess exactly alike--on full valuation--and get the State

levy down where it belongs and the State expense fairly apportioned.

The Full Rendition bill provides clearly for this case, and ought to be

408
enforced."

Governor Campbell looked thoughtful. He foresaw the storm that a man

with the convictions and determination of Bill McDonald could stir up

in a State like Texas. Presently he said:

"Well, Captain, that was what the Full Rendition Bill was passed for,

but it's been considered a dead letter, so far."

"It won't be a dead letter if I take the job, Governor. It will be the

livest letter in the statute book, for a while."

Campbell smiled grimly. In imagination he already heard the howl that

would go up, and the imprecations that would descend upon appointer as

well as appointee. After all, perhaps a Ranger Captain in a job like

that was not a perfect selection. Then presently he turned to Captain

Bill.

"Well, Captain, you've got your appointment," he said.

The State Revenue Agent lost no time in beginning his work. Already

many of the annual assessments for 1907 had been made, and if any

re-assessments were to be taken there was no time to lose. In 1906 the

assessed values of Texas properties had aggregated $1,210,000,000.

409
State Agent McDonald resolved that they should properly be more than

double this amount, and he undertook at once the first step in that

direction. He did this knowing full well what would result. He knew

that a man's purse is his tenderest point, and that to lay a finger on

his taxes is to touch a spot already sore. He knew that what he was

about to do meant to antagonize practically every corporation in the

State, and every rich county as a whole. Also, perhaps, a majority of

the press. Papers that had lauded him to the skies for his achievements

would be first to belittle him, now, and to cry him down. What he was

undertaking was distinctly a minority crusade; a struggle for the

pioneer; a fight for the under dog.

Yet I think his chief consideration was the enforcement of the law.

That would be likely to be so; the law's enforcement had been his habit

so long. If the other things weighed at all, they probably only added

zest to his resolve.

He began by issuing a general letter to assessors throughout the State.

In part the letter ran:

"Dear Sir:

"As State Revenue Agent with well defined duties imposed upon me,

I feel called upon to communicate with Tax Assessors relative to

410
the rendition and assessment of real and personal property for

Taxation....

"An inspection of the tax rolls of your county for 1906 and some years

prior thereto, discloses the fact that real and personal property is

assessed at only a certain percentage of its value instead of "at

its value" as required by the Constitution and laws of the State. I

will take occasion during the year to visit such counties as may be

practicable and examine into the mode of rendition and assessment ...

and I hope to have your assistance."

The letter then called attention to, and quoted from, the law, setting

forth the duties which good officers and citizens would perform in

full, and the penalties for being, and doing, otherwise. Near the end

of this letter he said:

"This duty is imposed upon you by the law, and I suppose I am not

presumptuous in asking you to follow it strictly so that there

will be no embarrassment when I call for the purpose of making an

investigation," etc., etc.

It was a careful dignified letter, entirely justified by the

conditions. It is true the Revenue Agent did not fully explain in that

last clause just what would be likely to cause the "embarrassment"

411
when he appeared upon the scene "for the purpose of making an

investigation," and the thoughtful assessor who had followed Bill

McDonald's career and remembered some of his former investigations may

have inferred that it would have something to do with guns.

Certainly that letter made those assessors mad. Also it made the people

mad. And the newspapers. Even the people and newspapers of the counties

that would benefit by the Full Rendition law--not quite understanding,

at first--got mad as a preparation for further enlightenment. Never,

since Joseph laid a twenty per cent. levy on the Egyptians, after first

taking away all of their land, was there such a general madness over

any tax order under the sun. In all the history of Texas there had been

no such commotion--such a cyclone of indignation as that which had its

storm center in the State Revenue Agent's office at Austin. Newspapers

that only a week before had been praising Bill McDonald as the bravest

man since Bowie and Travis--a fit successor to those heroes of the

Alamo--now denounced him as a bloodthirsty desperado, who proposed to

hold up the people of Texas as he had held up bad men--at the point

of a six-shooter. They declared that his sole purpose was to fill the

State Treasury to bursting with the people's money, so that it might

be an easy prey for grafters, already lying in wait with schemes.

Then they denounced Governor Campbell for appointing such a man, and

prophesied his political ruin and general downfall. Some of them could

not, and others would not, see that a full assessment for all was the

412
only fair system, and that, if the values increased, the general

rate of levy would lower accordingly. None so blind as those who will

not see, and property owners, public and private, in counties where

assessments had long been far too low to give them a fair share of the

State's burdens, were naturally blinded by that self-interest which was

stirred in with Adam's dust.

Indignation meetings prevailed. Assessors elected "by the people," told

their constituents that they would "obey the will of the people," and

tell any petty Revenue Agent that he could go to, with his bluff--that

the "people" of Texas were bigger than any individual in it and knew

what they wanted in the way of assessments, regardless of any fool laws

to the contrary.

Perhaps the coolest man in the State sat in the State Revenue Agent's

office at Austin, and smiled that bland winning smile of his as he

greeted the reporters and declined to get mad or to recede from his

position, merely referring them to the law as set down; dictating,

between times, answers to excited assessors in which he assured them

that his first letter was quite genuine and meant what it said, and

that furthermore if they had--as some of them stated--already turned

in their assessment rolls for 1907, they must go back and do it again,

observing the law both in letter and spirit, in order to avoid, that

little "embarrassment" when he should call somewhat later in the year.

413
And this kicked up the dust worse than ever.

There was, however, a percentage of public sentiment in favor of the

law and justice, regardless of personal interest. There were men in

high places who stood boldly for the new order of assessment, and there

were newspapers, even in the old rich counties that for a principle

were willing to lose subscribers and pay the additional tax, besides.

The names of those men and of those newspapers Texas should inscribe on

a roll of honor in her State Capitol, for it was by such as those that

some seventy years ago her independence was won.

Governor Campbell, assailed on every side, breasted the storm and

stood firm. If his political structure must go down to ruin because

of an effort to secure justice and the enforcement of the statutes as

laid down, then perhaps the ruin would be better than the edifice. He

discussed the matter thoughtfully and earnestly, here and there, when

called upon, and was listened to with respect though with uncertain

approval. Other officials throughout the State were inclined to be

governed by the temper of their constituents. Yet there were notable

exceptions. In February, 1907, at a convention of county judges,

in Dallas, the statement was made that an attempt to carry out the

instructions of the State Revenue Agent in the matter of the Full

Rendition law would mean the political death of such county judges

or commissioners as engaged in that effort. This statement, though

414
wide, was not general. Among others to dissent was Judge Hill of

Eastland County, who declared that if the people of Texas did not

want a man in office who would carry out the law he, for one, would be

glad to resign. That was a fine brave statement and had its effect. A

resolution pledging the members of the association, individually and

as a whole, to support and maintain the letter and spirit of the Full

Rendition law, to the end that the taxes of the entire State might be

equal and uniform, was unanimously adopted. The right word from the

right source had been spoken. It began to be echoed in public places.

It was along in March, 1907, that the State Revenue Agent decided that

he would not wait to call on the assessors during the year, but that he

would gather them in Austin where he could talk to them, all together.

A meeting of the State Association of Assessors, near the end of the

month, was the result.

The assessors came together in many frames of mind, but mainly

belligerent. Some of them had given it out to their constituents before

they started that they were going down to tell that old Ranger that he

might be able to round-up cattle-thieves and Mexicans, but that a bunch

of county assessors would be a different matter. When these officials

began to collect around the Capitol there was plenty of talk--not

always complimentary. The State Revenue Agent loafed around among them.

It was noticeable how the criticism subsided in the various groups as

415
he sauntered in their direction. It was rumored that, though a civil

officer, he still wore a "forty-five" in a holster and carried an

"automatic" in his hip-pocket. When the members were finally assembled

in general meeting, and "Captain Bill" rose to address them--they were

quite still. He did not make a long speech, but it was to the point.

"We have been assessing in this go-as-you-please sort of a fashion a

good while," he said, "and now we are going to do it the other way.

We've been assessing by custom--now we're going to do it by law. The

present tax rate is twenty cents on the hundred. We want to get it down

to five cents on the hundred and adjust it so that every man will pay

what he should--no more and no less. I don't want to pay out money any

more than the next one, but I want to pay what is right, and I know

you men want to _do_ what is right, with your people, when you find

out what the right thing is. This law is right, and just because we've

been going according to an old unjust custom, is no reason now, why we

shouldn't go according to an old and just law."

It was in this strain that he talked to them, using the friendly

familiar vernacular which meant sincerity and a genuine interest in

their welfare. They saw that he was in earnest, and he spoke to their

better inclination. Also, he had the strong side of the argument. A

paper commenting on the matter said:

416
"Thrice was the Captain armed, for the reason that he was in the right,

and had the laws of the State to back him"--a statement true in the

main, though it leaves the reader to guess in what third way the

"Captain" was thought to be armed.

At all events, whatever rebellion may have existed must have been

pretty well quieted by the next day, for the following resolution was

unanimously adopted:

"_Resolved_, That we, the Assessors of the State of Texas, in

convention assembled, will make what improvements we possibly can to

increase the renditions of 1907, and promise to fully comply with the

law, in the assessments of the future, and we hereby authorize the

secretary of this convention to notify all assessors not present to

co-operate with us in this matter."[22]

When that association disbanded, if there was any indignation and

resentment existing for the State Revenue Agent it made no outward

manifestation. One assessor said:

"As to what my duty was, I very well knew that before I went to Austin.

But like most other assessors I followed a custom instead of the law.

When a change was demanded I though it would cause a great deal of

confusion among the people who had made an inventory of their property.

417
I find it is not the case. I have very little trouble, and in my

judgment I will get forty per cent. raise, for an average."

And another assessor, writing to the Fort Worth Record, said:

"Well, I am going to do my duty. I am swearing every man to the value

of his property, as well as to the rendering of it, so when brother

McDonald comes around, if he ever does, there will be no kick coming my

way."

The result came when the inventories were all gathered and the items

footed. Between the figures of 1906 and 1907 there was an actual

difference of $414,137,246 in favor of the latter year. A part of

this vast increase would come from the natural property growth of

the State, but in the main it was due to the revised inventories and

valuations. And this was a mere beginning, undertaken under disturbing

and adverse conditions. The increase of 1908 over 1907 added another

total of $561,297,248 to the property assessment values, aggregating

an increase over the year 1906 of $975,434,494. Perhaps Texas will be

a three billion dollar State yet, as has been prophesied, and the tax

rate in the pioneer counties will be such as to encourage still further

settlement and progress.

Not that the system is perfect yet. There are still assessors who

418
shirk their duty, and hence counties who default in their burdens.

No great reform can be immediately complete, but if State Revenue

Agent McDonald survives long enough, this one will be so, in time, and

already it stands as his greatest monument and victory.[23]

[Full rendition of property values for the purposes of taxation has

always been the law in Texas. The Thirtieth Legislature provided for

the reestablishment of an old and dishonored system. For a fuller

understanding of the conditions before and after the enforcement

of this and other laws the reader may refer to Governor Campbell's

Message of Jan., 1909 (Appendix F), and an address by Hon. W.D.

Williams (Appendix G), at the end of this volume.]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 22: The New York "Sun," commenting on this, said:

"Many of the assessors came to Austin with a feeling of animosity

toward Captain McDonald, but he brought them all into line and before

the meeting adjourned resolutions were unanimously adopted thanking

him for taking up the question of assessments and promising to assess

property at its full market value."]

[Footnote 23: In addition to this work, State Revenue Agent McDonald

419
has very largely increased the State income by the systematic and

vigorous enforcing of the law, providing for the licensing of various

public entertainments and for regulating the sale of liquors. His

experience in putting into effect the new "Baskin-McGregor" law

somewhat resembled his adventures with the Full Rendition law and ended

with as signal a victory.]

XLIII

In Conclusion

CAPTAIN BILL MC DONALD OF TEXAS--WHAT HE HAS BEEN AND

WHAT HE IS TO-DAY

So now we have arrived at the end of our story--the story of "a man who

does things"--who has been making history for twenty-five years, who is

still making it, to-day. It is the story of a life so full of incident

and episode that we have been able to give only a chapter here and

there--to touch the high places as it were; for the tale entire would

fill a library, and would involve the chronology of a State, which in

420
that quarter of a century has increased its population nearly five

times, its wealth in a like proportion, while its progress in education

and morals has been incalculable. It is with the improvement last named

that Bill McDonald, and the little army of State Rangers from which he

had been selected as an example, have been chiefly concerned, though

advancement in other directions has been collateral and dependent on

moral growth. Order is not only the first law of Heaven, but of the

frontier, and by the sturdy Frontier Battalion has the fight for order

been made, and won. For in spite of plague-spots here and there (and

in a State of so vast an area, and so recent and motley a settlement,

it would be strange indeed if these did not exist), Texas is to-day a

splendid empire of beautiful towns and cities--of fair and fruitful

farms, and of handsome, hardy law-abiding men and women.

The Pan-handle has become a garden--not a Garden of Eden, exactly, but

a garden of agriculture and home-culture--a larger garden than Eden,

and happier and more profitable than Eden has ever been, since the fall.

And the best evidence of what the Ranger Force has done for Texas may

be found in the steady reduction of its numbers. By the very nature

of its achievements it has each year reduced the necessity of its

existence. To-day it consists of four little companies, aggregating

about thirty men, all told. They are brave, picked men--who face death

daily and are not afraid. If from among these Bill McDonald has been

421
marked for special distinction, it is not because he has been more

willing to do and dare, or more resolute in its purpose of reform,

but because he was at his birth marked by that special genius which,

whatever his environment, would make episodic achievement and peculiar

distinction his inevitable portion. Long before he became an officer he

was a peace-maker. Wherever trouble occurred, McDonald had a genius for

being there, separating and disarming the combatants, admonishing them

in that convincing manner which few men ever resented. No one ever knew

him to flinch at a time like that--perhaps no one ever dreamed that he

would be likely to do so.

He was variously gifted. His perceptions were abnormally keen--his

deductive conclusions often startling in their exactness. In his

detective work, he was sometimes referred to as the Sherlock Holmes of

Texas, though his processes would seem to have been more instinctive,

and perhaps less intellectual, than those of Dr. Doyle's imaginary

hero. For he had the eyes of a fox, the ears of a wolf and he could

follow a scent like a hound.

"Cap, you have eyes in the back of your head and can smell a criminal

in the dark," was once said to him, and perhaps this statement was not

so wide of the mark.

His understanding of character--frontier character--was likewise a

422
gift. Almost every man has a right side, and Bill McDonald always

seemed to know how to reach that side. When no right side developed,

he knew how to handle the wrong one. He seldom failed to win the

confidence and the respect--even the friendship--of his prisoners.

Such enemies as he has to-day are not among the men he caused to be

punished, but among those who feared--and still fear--capture and

punishment. There may be a good many such. Time and again his removal

was not only requested, but demanded--sometimes by a whole community--a

community which did not want the law's enforcement, and such a demand

was likely to be accompanied by the threat of political revolt. But

Texas, from the days of Sam Houston, has had good governors--governors

to whom such a demand was in the nature of a compliment and the best

reason for retaining the "offending" incumbent. Hence Bill McDonald not

only remained in service, but was given an ever widening usefulness.

His "suddenness" and determination was a constant amazement to

law-breakers. Once when he was in El Paso he received a telegram

stating that some of his horses had been stolen from a ranch he then

owned on the Oklahoma and Texas line. That ranch was nearly five

hundred miles away as the crow flies, but Bill McDonald was on the

train bound in that direction while the telegram was still damp.

Arriving at his ranch, he struck the trail and set out alone to follow

it, without rest, through Greer County, riding hot foot a distance of

three hundred miles; overtaking the thieves at last somewhere beyond

423
Norman, Oklahoma. Sid Woodring, a wary old outlaw, was in that gang,

also his nephew, Frank Woodring, and a third member whose name is not

recalled. It was a genuine surprise when Bill McDonald, whom they

thought at the other end of Texas, charged in among them and had them

disarmed almost before they realized what was going on. He marched them

back to the jail at Norman; had them indicted in Greer County, where

court was then in session; got them convicted for terms ranging from

five to ten years, and returned with his recovered horses--completing,

in the space of a few days, one of the neatest and most spectacular

bits of official work on record.

The amount of his work was something enormous. In the two years ending

August 31st, 1904, Ranger Company B, which he commanded, traveled

74,537 miles, made 205 scouts and 174 arrests. Thirty-one of the

arrests were for murder, and nearly all for desperate crimes. When

it is remembered that some of those scouts required days, and some

of the arrests were hundreds of miles apart, and the result of long

and arduous trailing and persistent detective work, the labor and the

result can be better understood. Nor is this an unusual report. It has

been selected at random and is by no means of the busiest period--the

period of the early nineties--those riotous Pan-handle days.[24]

There was no show, no fuss and feathers about this work. Riot

threatened or broke out here and there--the newspapers carried a line

424
that Captain Bill was on the way to the scene. He arrived--often

alone--disarmed a mob; made an arrest or two, perhaps; gave out a few

quiet admonitions, and it was all over--next day to be forgotten. With

many another man such cases would have meant resistance, bloodshed,

troops, and the long animosities of years. That was his genius: to

settle matters--to dispose of them--to get through and to be at other

work without waste of time. Once when he was ordered to Galveston to

prevent a prize-fight, he arrived at the hall where it was to take

place, after the crowd had gathered. He did not bother to discuss

matters with the managers or principals, but walked out on the stage

and announced briefly to the audience that the fight would not take

place, for the reason that it was against the law which he was there to

enforce. That was a fair sample of his method--to know the law, and to

enforce it, without a fire-works and without violence. No man has ever

been his equal, perhaps, in that field.

It was true he was lucky, for bullets missed him, as a rule, and he

steered clear of many dead-falls. Among the Mexicans, and bad men

generally, there grew up a superstition that he was bullet-proof, and

after the Rio Grande affair there would seem to be some reason for such

a belief, for he stood up there in plain view, a tall and shining mark,

blazing away, and no bullet touched him.

He has been always modest concerning his achievements, discussing them

425
in the few words of an official report. When he has spoken at all it

has been his habit to present the general result, rather than his part

in it. It was this characteristic that made difficult the securing of

material for these chapters. In preparing for the Rio Grande battle,

for instance, I said to him:

"Of course you hit some of those Mexicans?"

"Well, you see, standing up as I was I had a good place to shoot from."

"Then you did hit some of them?"

"Well--of course, as I say, I had the best place to shoot from, and I

_felt_ as if I could pick the buttons off their coats."

"But, Captain, what I want to know is, if you think you _really hit_

any of them."

"Oh, well, hell (very reluctantly), I don't guess I _missed_ any of

'em!"

"Did you feel afraid?"

"No--I don't reckon I thought of that."

426
Yet every man is afraid of something. It was about the time of the

conversation just noted (he was then visiting New York City), that he

said anxiously to a companion who was steering him through the mess of

traffic at one of the Twenty-third Street crossings:

"Look here, you'll get me killed, yet, in a place like this. I don't

know the game."

The muzzle of a Colt 45, or of a Winchester, had no terrors for him,

but a phalanx of automobiles and traction-cars, mingled with a medley

of other vehicles, bearing down from four different directions--a

perfect tangle of impending death--proved disturbing to one accustomed

to simpler, even if more malignant, dangers.

With conditions of his own kind, however, he was at home, even in the

metropolis. Visiting Coney Island one night he came upon two tough

individuals, clutched in a fierce grip and trying to damage each other

vitally. Texas was a long way off, but it did not matter. He took hold

of those men saying:

"Look here, what are you men acting so sorry for? Stop this, now, and

go home!"

427
They were the sort of men who would have resisted a policeman--who

might have killed him. What they did now was to cease their warfare and

stare in a dazed way at the tall lean figure, the unusual features and

the large white hat of Captain Bill.

"You fellows go on home, now," he admonished, in his slow, homely way,

and the two set out in different directions, without a word.

It was on his way back to Texas that he paid his promised visit to

President Roosevelt. He was a bit nervous over the prospect, but found

himself altogether at ease a moment after his arrival at the White

House. For he was given the sort of hearty welcome that goes with the

wider life he knew best, and was introduced without formality to men

who were delighted to honor him for what he was, and had been. If

Theodore Roosevelt had enjoyed his visit to the plains, so no less

did Captain Bill McDonald find delight amid the halls and highways of

legislation.

Captain Bill McDonald of Texas--the last of a vanishing race and a

vanished day; of the race to which Crockett and Bowie and Travis

and Fannin belonged; of a day when a hip and a holster were made one

for the other--when to reach in that direction meant, for somebody,

post-mortem and obsequies. State Revenue Agent of Texas--such to-day is

his title--and the work he has undertaken in his new field goes bravely

428
on. Texas still needs his honesty, his courage, and his determination.

When those qualities direct the affairs of the body politic, the

prosperity and predominance of that commonwealth are assured.

THE END

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 24: For details of this report with tabulated statement of

all Ranger work for that period see Appendix C.]

APPENDIX

APPENDIX A

EXTRACTS FROM REPORT OF ADJUTANT-GENERAL W.H. MABRY OF

TEXAS; 1896. THE

429
FITZSIMMONS-MAHER PRIZE FIGHT

ADJUTANT-GENERAL'S OFFICE,

STATE OF TEXAS.

AUSTIN, Feb. 27, 1896.

_Lieutenant-Governor George T. Jester, Acting Governor_:

SIR:--I herewith briefly submit a few facts connected with my presence

at El Paso.

Much of the views sent over the wires were all colored in the interest

of the managers of the prize fight. In fact, two reporters informed

me that Stuart exercised a kind of censorship over all dispatches;

that he demanded they be colored in his favor, with the threat that

unless it was so worded they could not see the fight. The dispatches

contained the denunciatory proceedings of a city council against the

Governor's order in sending the rangers, and by my action there, in

having close watch kept over all that was done so far as it pertained

to the bringing off of the fight, but failed, with one exception, to

contain the resolutions of the Ministers' Union, who represented a

large class among the best citizens approving the Governor's action and

430
upholding my methods. I talked with many of the best citizens, among

whom were district officials, who stated they believed the fight would

have been pulled off on some adjacent disputed territory about El Paso.

Of course, Mr. Stuart assured me that he would not bring the fight

off in Texas, but the Governor of Chihuahua also informed me that Mr.

Stuart assured him that he would not pull off the fight in Old Mexico,

and at the same time he had the dispatches to quote him as saying he

would never violate the laws of Texas. If he does not do so every day

in some of his gambling establishments, then common report has woefully

misrepresented him.

I had a close and constant espionage placed, not only on the

principals, but also on the passenger depot and the cars loaded with

paraphernalia of the ring, with instructions to follow the latter to

wherever hauled. Not only did I do this, up to the 14th, but kept it

up to the 21st, notwithstanding Mr. Albers' outburst of virtuous (?)

indignation, because I kept a surveillance over Maher when taken to

Albers' room, over the latter's place of business, on the night of the

13th, the day before the fight was to occur. I did this on the night of

the 20th, when Maher was domiciled in the same room. By the way, from

the report of Captains Hughes and Brooks, I find it hard to reconcile

Mr. Albers' high sounding document with his action in going on the bond

of some bunco men whom Captain Hughes arrested for swindling and placed

in jail. They were let out of jail, and Captains Hughes and Brooks

431
investigated the facts, and found Mr. Albers and a man by the name of

Burns, a keeper of a "red light" joint, were the bondsmen. Now, the

surveillance over men who were advertised to commit a crime which was

a felony in Texas, made these people very mad, and much was said about

the liberty of the citizen, martial law, etc. The drippings from such

sanctuaries should come very seldom, and then in very broken doses. I

usurped no authority, nor interfered with local officers in any duty

they saw fit to perform. I was ordered there to see that no such crime

as was widely advertised to come off near El Paso should be perpetrated

upon any isolated Texas soil, nor even on any so-called neutral

strip between Texas and Mexico. The presence of the ranger force was

evidently very much appreciated by a certain business element there,

when these people called on me for protection and to leave a detachment

in El Paso to protect the banks, while most of my force would be out

of the city on the day of the fight. The city was full of desperate

characters looking for spoils from whatever source.

From the utterance of Mr. Stuart, and most of his friends, as

expressed in press dispatches, it would appear that the rangers and

he were there for the same purpose--to prevent the fight in Texas.

Nevertheless, Mr. Stuart's side kept up their misrepresentations

until it became a foregone conclusion that no fight could occur on

any disputed or neutral ground convenient to El Paso, notwithstanding

the press dispatches reported him as having Mr. Bat Masterson and 100

432
men to protect his ring. I never heard of one cat squalling because

another cat's tail got mashed. They began looking for another place,

and Maher's eyes became very sore, and apparently remained in that

condition until a secure place was found in Old Mexico, some 400 miles

from El Paso. Then his eyes began to improve every day. Still, they may

have been sore, but Dr. Yandell, who was reported in press dispatches

as saying "Pete had acute ophthalmia," informed me that he never

diagnosed his case, nor saw Maher at the time.

The prize fighters were merely dough in the hands of Mr. Stuart and the

hundreds of others who were present for the money they hoped to win,

and would have fought in the ring, wherever located, if unmolested by

officers at that time. It is hard to believe that Mr. Stuart had so

much respect for law he regarded as wrong, and which he believed was

passed to affect his interests. To illustrate his great respect for

laws generally, Mr. Brooks, manager of the Western Union Telegraph

Company, came to me the night before the start was to be made for

Langtry, and demanded protection. He stated that a representative of

Mr. Stuart had come to him and informed him that unless his company

paid $10,000 to Mr. Stuart, that he (Mr. B.) could not use his own

office and his own wires to send off the report of the fight at

Langtry. This same representative of Mr. Stuart's informed Mr. Brooks

that said Mr. Stuart would place his (Mr. Stuart's) men in the office

and keep him out by force. I readily granted him protection to do his

433
legitimate business and had my rangers about the office, with the

proper instructions, and no such high-handed measures were undertaken.

The statement wired, that I and the rangers crossed the river to see

the fight, was palpably made to belittle the force. They knew it was

false at the time.

I desire to express my approbation for the intelligent and efficient

manner in which Captains Brooks, McDonald, Hughes, and Rogers executed

every order and performed every duty. The rangers conducted themselves

in such manner as to reflect additional credit upon the name of a

ranger--always a synonym for courage and duty well performed. They were

active in the execution of every order, quiet and orderly in manner,

determined in mien, fearless and vigilant on duty; they thus naturally

incur the displeasure of the law-breakers everywhere.

I have the honor to be your obedient servant,

W.H. MABRY, Adjutant-General.

Thanks are due Captains Orsay and Owen for the manner in which they

have performed their respective duties.

I beg to here express my appreciation for the thoughtful and courteous

434
consideration always accorded to me by Your Excellency, and my

obligations for the cordial and able co-operation and advice which you

have rendered to me in the administration of my department.

I have the honor to subscribe myself,

Very respectfully your obedient servant,

W.H. MABRY, Adjutant-General.

STRENGTH AND OPERATIONS OF THE FRONTIER BATTALION

As now organized, the frontier force consists of four companies,

commanded by Captains J.A. Brooks, W.J. McDonald, Jno. R. Hughes and

J.H. Rogers.

Three are stationed along the Rio Grande and one (McDonald) in the

Pan-handle, with headquarters at Alice, Cotulla, Ysleta and Amarillo.

They scout over a large section of country, and detachments are sent

to different sections where needed, if it is possible to send them.

Demands for rangers have been greater than this department could

furnish, because of the limited number of men in the service. But every

435
effort has been made to cover as much territory as possible.

The report of operations for the two years show that they have traveled

in scouting 173,381 miles; arrested 676 criminals; returned 2,856 head

of stolen stock to their owners; have assisted the civil authorities

162 times, and guarded jails 13 times.

The duties of the ranger are arduous and often dangerous. The most

desperate criminals would naturally seek that isolated section, and

when on the trail of the bold desperadoes, often life is the forfeit in

the encounter that may follow. Praise is due the commanding officers

and their men for the prompt and fearless manner with which they

perform their duties. While the pay is small, none but young men of

character, standing, and good habits are enlisted, and they so conduct

themselves as to reflect credit upon the State in the efficient service

they render.

Because of the limited force, and the great demands made upon the

service, there have been enlisted 82 special rangers, who serve without

pay from the State. They are almost exclusively located in the frontier

sections, and are paid principally by private interests, who claim they

are compelled to stand the hardship of the extra burden, or tax it

imposes, because, in conjunction with the regular force as a standing

menace to criminals, they are thus enabled to enjoy some of the

436
protection which a State really guarantees to them. These "specials"

are always enlisted upon the recommendation of the sheriff and the

district attorney, or the sheriff and some other officer of the county

or district.

APPENDIX B

PART OF TWO YEARS' REPORT OF ADJUTANT-GENERAL THOS. SCURRY

December 1st, 1898--October 31st, 1900

THE RANGER SERVICE

The fact that the State has had for some years past a force always

ready to suppress disorder, arrest criminals and aid the civil

authorities in the protection of courts and jails, has been the cause

of hundreds of criminals taking refuge in the border States, outside

of the jurisdiction of Texas, and in Mexico, who would return to Texas

to continue their depredations and murders were it not for the ranger

force. Instances can be shown where the moral effect of having the

437
rangers ready to co-operate with the civil authorities anywhere in

the State has been a deterrent to the commission of lawless acts, and

numerous instances can be shown where whole counties have been purged

of their criminal element by the presence of the rangers, who alone

were able to restore peace and good order in the community.

In reality, the so-called Frontier Battalion is but four small

detachments. The reports received at this office indicate that these

men, while fearless and prompt in the performance of their duty, have

always acted with discretion and in the most orderly manner. Their

well-known reputation for courage of itself has had a most salutary and

good moral effect on the lawless element of the communities where they

have been stationed.

Since January 1, 1899, the officers and men of the Frontier Battalion

have been very actively engaged in running down the criminal element in

the west, and in subduing lawlessness in other portions of the State.

The rangers have only been used in other portions of the State when a

direct request on your Excellency was made by the civil authorities of

cities or counties needing them. That their work has been effective

and to the satisfaction of those requesting their service, it is only

necessary to refer to letters on file in this office in reference to

their efficiency received from citizens and officials of the various

cities and towns to which rangers have been ordered. It is probably

438
appropriate to mention some prominent features of the work of the

rangers during the past two years, outside of the duties usually

performed by them in the way of scouting in the sparsely settled

district of the west, and the work accomplished in recovering stolen

cattle, arresting thieves, murderers, etc.

During the month of March, 1899, Captain McDonald, with two men, was

ordered to Columbus, Colorado county, for the purpose of preventing

trouble there between the Townsend and Reece factions. Captain

McDonald went alone, his men not being able to reach him in time, and

his courage and cool behavior prevented a conflict between the two

factions. The district judge and district attorney both informed him

that it was impossible to handle the situation, but he told them that

he could make the effort, and he gave the members of each faction

a limited time in which to get rid of their weapons, stating that

he would put those in jail who refused to comply. His order had the

desired effect.

Captain McDonald was ordered by your Excellency to Henderson county to

work on the cases against the lynchers of the Humphreys. In reference

to this affair, I take the liberty of quoting from a letter from Hon.

N.B. Morris, ex-Assistant Attorney-General:

"You will remember that at the request of the sheriff, county

439
attorney and other local authorities of that county, Captain McDonald

and Private Old were sent there to assist them and myself in the

investigation of that horrible murder which was then enshrouded in a

mystery that it seemed almost impossible to uncover. Before the rangers

reached us the people in the neighborhood of the murder seemed afraid

to talk. They said they would be murdered, too, if they took any hand

in working up the case. About the first thing that Captain McDonald did

was to assure the people that he and his associates had come there to

stay until every murderer was arrested and convicted, and that he would

see that all those who assisted him would be protected. They believed

him, and in consequence thereof they soon began to talk and feel that

the law would be vindicated, and I am glad to say that it was. The

work of the rangers in this one case is worth more to the State, in my

opinion, than your department will cost during your administration. In

fact, such service cannot be valued in dollars and cents....

"The rangers were at all times sober, orderly and quiet, and left that

country on good terms with all factions. They paid no attention to the

criticism of the mob sympathizers, but went straight along, did their

duty and now have the confidence not only of the good citizens, but of

the members of the mob and their friends."

Three of the lynchers turned State's evidence and eight of them were

sentenced to the penitentiary for life.

440
In March, 1899, Company E, Captain J.H. Rogers commanding, was ordered

to Laredo to assist the State health officer to enforce the quarantine

laws, there being an epidemic of smallpox in that city. The Mexicans

living there objected to being moved from their homes to the hospital,

and the State health officer, considering it absolutely necessary for

them to be moved in order to stop the spread of the disease, required

force to accomplish his object. The Mexicans showed a disposition to

riot on the 19th, collecting together in hundreds, some of them being

armed. The city officials had a fight with them, several shots being

fired, and on the 20th, Captain Rogers, followed by one ranger and

a special ranger, went with the sheriff of the county to search for

arms secreted in the house of an ex-policeman, it is supposed, for the

purpose of making an assault upon the State health officer and his

force if approached. These officers met resistance from the inmates

of the house. A fight ensued in which Captain Rogers received a wound

in the right arm, and one of the Mexicans was killed. The remaining

detachment of Company E, having been advised of the fight, and having

met Captain Rogers in a disabled condition, and presuming that the

lives of the ranger and special ranger were in jeopardy, went to the

scene of action without hesitation, and immediately upon reaching

the street in which the Mexicans were assembled were fired upon by

the latter. The six rangers proceeded up the street firing as they

went, being under the impression that a man seen lying in the street,

441
dead, was one of the rangers who accompanied Captain Rogers. Several

disinterested citizens have said that these rangers showed remarkable

pluck and daring in coming down the street, fighting several times

their number without the slightest hesitation. Several Mexicans were

wounded. After this the work of moving the smallpox patients to the

hospital was an easy task.

In April, 1899, two rangers of this company were sent into Wharton

County by request, and were successful in breaking up a gang of cattle

thieves operating in that locality. Several were arrested, including

the recognized leader.

In September, 1899, Captain Rogers and several of his men were

ordered to Orange by request of the civil authorities, on account of

an organized mob killing one negro and wounding another, and sending

anonymous letters to others directing them to move out of the country.

Several arrests were made. Captain Rogers was removed from Orange on

account of his wound, and Captain McDonald and several of his men were

ordered there to relieve him. Captain McDonald succeeded in arresting

and having indicted four men for murder and a great number of men for

conspiracy to murder in connection with the above mob. It is to be

regretted that Ranger T.L. Fuller, while in the discharge of his duty

at Orange, Texas, found it necessary to shoot and kill Oscar Poole in

self-defense.

442
On the 15th day of October, 1900, while Captain W.J. McDonald,

Lieutenant T.L. Fuller and Private A.L. Saxon, of Company B, were

attending court at Orange, Texas, as witnesses, and Lieutenant Fuller

to answer the charge of false imprisonment (for making an arrest

while a private),[25] the latter was shot and killed by Tom Poole, a

brother of Oscar Poole, while in a barber shop talking to one of the

barbers. From the information received it is certain that Lieutenant

Fuller did not know of the presence of Tom Poole when shot. While this

ranger was enlisted on account of his previous good record as a deputy

sheriff, he enlisted with the hope of saving sufficient money to finish

his education in the University of Texas, having at that time just

completed his freshman year. He was a young man of temperate habits,

quiet in his manner and a fearless ranger.

RECOMMENDATION

I recommend that the law governing the ranger service be so amended

"that the officers, non-commissioned officers and privates of the

ranger force be clothed with the powers of peace officers to aid the

civil authorities in the execution of the laws anywhere in the State;

that they be given authority to make arrests, and in such cases to

be governed by the laws regulating and defining the powers and the

443
duties of sheriffs when in discharge of similar duties." That this

force consist of not to exceed four companies of twenty men each. The

commissioned officers to be four company commanders, each with the rank

of captain, one quartermaster with the rank of captain, and four 1st

sergeants. The pay of the officers and non-commissioned officers to

be as heretofore prescribed, and the pay of privates to be $40.00 per

month. By increasing the pay of the privates, the State will secure

the service of a better class of men, who will remain in the service a

longer time and do more efficient work.

In view of the fact that a number of criminal suits have been

brought against privates in the ranger force for false imprisonment

by reason of arrests made by them prior to the promulgation of the

attorney-general's opinion advising that only the officers of the

ranger force had authority to execute criminal process under the law

(see General Orders No. 24, Exhibit P), I respectfully recommend that

an act be passed by the Legislature legalizing the official acts of the

rangers as peace officers prior to May 26, 1900.

Officers and privates have for twenty-four years been acting in good

faith under the impression that all rangers had the authority of peace

officers, and privates of the Frontier Battalion have, during that

time, received orders from higher authority to exercise the power of

peace officers.

444
FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 25: This tragedy resulted in the following recommendation by

the Adjutant-General, which recommendation was duly acted upon.]

APPENDIX C

REPORT OF CAPTAIN W.J. McDONALD, COMMANDING COMPANY B,

RANGER FORCE

September 1st, 1902 to August 31st, 1904

_The Adjutant-General, State of Texas_:

SIR:--I have the honor to herewith inclose a report of the operations

of Company B, Ranger Force, for the two years ending August 31, 1904:

September, 1902.--Captain McDonald, with Privates Blanton, Ryan and

Taylor, scouted to Hutchinson County, from Amarillo. Private Taylor

445
arrested James Newlin for assault to murder and turned him over to

Sheriff Randal. Sergeant McCauley and Private Delling were ordered to

Newlin county on a scout, and escorted a party of surveyors, who had

been run out of pastures with Winchesters, and protected them from

violence. Captain McDonald with Privates Blanton and Taylor went to

Columbus to carry Gregorio Cortez to Karnes County district court. His

life being threatened by a mob, it was necessary to secure two men

from Company C and guard the jail in which he was placed. By order of

the district judge we carried him back to Columbus and put him in jail

there. Captain McDonald arrested S. Harvard for theft of a bale of

cotton valued at $25.20 and put him in jail at Quanah.

October, 1902.--I went to Norman, O.T., to appear in cases against

horse thieves previously caught by me, for theft of horses. Accompanied

by Privates Taylor and Ryan, I went to Eagle Lake to investigate the

attempted assassination of W.T. Eldridge and to protect Mr. Eldridge

from further violence, and succeeded in finding out who did the

shooting. Privates Blanton, Warrent and Ryan scouted Oldham, Moore,

Hutchinson, Roberts, Hemphill, Wheeler, Gray and Carson counties during

the month, locating cow thieves, reported to be in that section.

Sergeant McCauley assisted Sheriff Johnson in carrying a crazy man

to the asylum at Austin, Texas. During this month, 2,600 miles were

scouted and traveled.

446
November, 1902.--Accompanied by Privates Ryan and Taylor, I attended

district court at Richmond, where trouble was anticipated in connection

with the attempt to assassinate Mr. Eldridge. I went to Texline and

Clayton, N.M., to investigate cattle stealing.

December, 1902.--With Privates Blanton and Kenton I took Will Carr,

who had turned State's evidence on the county clerk, cattle inspectors

and others in Hutchinson County, to Lipscomb County to district court,

where one of the cases had been transferred. By order of the Governor

of the State, Company B was ordered to Fort Hancock, on the Rio Grande,

which was made headquarters, instead of Amarillo.

January, 1903.--Private Smith scouted to Alpine, to Santiago and to

Comstock. Arrested Joe Hammon for murder and delivered him to the

sheriff at Alpine. Also arrested a man for theft.

February, 1903.--Privates Smith and Taylor arrested a man at Sanderson

for burglarizing Lockhamden ranch. He recovered the stolen property and

turned it over to the owner. He turned the burglar over to the sheriff

of the county. Sergeant McCauley and Private Ryan arrested Joe Jones,

wanted at Pecos for forgery, and turned him over to the sheriff of the

county. The money in his possession was secured and turned over to

the sheriff of the county, and the defendant sent to the penitentiary

at once. Privates Bean and Blanton scouted to Shafter and guarded the

447
money for the mines. I assisted the local officials of El Paso several

times during the month, and went to Mangum, O.T., as witness, and to

assist in the prosecution of Sid Woodring, Frank Woodring and others

for stealing my horses. These men were followed by me from the line of

Collingsworth County to Cleveland County, O.T., and caught with the

horses. They were sent to the penitentiary for the theft.

March, 1903.--Sergeant McCauley and Privates Bean and Blanton scouted

on two trips to Shafter and Marfa, and up the Rio Grande in search for

the notorious Bill Taylor, the train robber and murderer, and who had

broken jail on several occasions, but he escaped into Mexico. Privates

Taylor and Smith scouted to Sanderson and assisted the constable in

preventing trouble at a trial in court, where the defendant, a sheriff,

had killed the justice of the peace. Private Taylor, at the request of

the sheriff, went with him to El Paso to bring Geo. Maglovlin, who was

charged with rape, to Alpine court. He also assisted in the arrest of a

man for rape, one for horse theft, and one for murder, and put them in

jail. Many scouts were made along the river in search of cow and horse

thieves during the month.

April, 1903.--I assisted the officers and went with the sheriff of

Pecos County to locate a man, but he escaped into Mexico. Sergeant

McCauley and Private Bean arrested two men for theft of wood, and

one for theft of a horse. Sergeant McCauley assisted the sheriff in

448
arresting a man for threatening to take life. Privates Delling and

Ryan scouted to Valentine and assisted in following horse thieves, but

the thieves escaped into Mexico. They recovered one stolen horse and

returned it to owner. Private Smith arrested a man for assault, and

went to Sanderson to investigate the attempted burning of a hotel.

He also went to Del Rio to look after several horse-stealing cases.

Private Taylor went with Inspector Cook on a scout, looking for stolen

cattle.

May, 1903.--I assisted in bringing to justice Gil Brice, a Mexican,

charged with killing a lawyer named Tusselman several years ago, and

who had escaped at Fort Hancock while shackled. Privates Ryan and Bean

were sent to Sanderson to investigate the killing of a justice of peace

and another man. Private Taylor arrested Thos. Chappis for attempt to

murder, and succeeded in getting him in jail. Arrested R.C. McMahan for

killing of Mr. Bob Smith, a justice of the peace, and Chas. Reed for

lunacy.

June, 1903.--Private Ryan scouted down the river and to Sanderson.

Sergeant McCauley scouted with and assisted river guards. Private Bean

scouted from Sanderson in pursuit of a Mexican wanted in Tom Green

County for attempt to rape. Scouted to Sanderson and arrested Tom

Brown for killing Mr. Morris, the operator. Private Delling scouted to

Ferlingin and investigated some cattle stealing.

449
July, 1903.--Privates Bean and Dunaway scouted four days down the river

looking for stolen cattle. They arrested three Mexicans for shooting at

Fort Hancock. Privates Delling and Ryan scouted to Sanderson to prevent

trouble between factions, and to Fort Stockton to be present at the

examining trial of McMahan, who was charged with murder, as trouble was

expected. They also arrested a man charged with rape.

August, 1903.--Sergeant McCauley and Private Bean scouted in the

northern part of El Paso County, looking after cattle and horse

thieves. Private Dunaway arrested John McCain while he was in the act

of robbing a T. & P. caboose. Private Taylor scouted during the month.

Various other scouts were made during the month.

September, 1903.--By order of General Hulen, I took Private Dunaway

and went to Marfa to investigate an attack made on L.N. Holbert,

county attorney. Mr. Holbert had been taken from the hotel by a mob

and seriously beaten. I found who the guilty parties were, and brought

Mr. Holbert to go before the grand jury to prosecute them, but through

fear he begged off from the district attorney and wanted the matter

dropped. I made an investigation of some whitecappers, and furnished

the grand jury with evidence of same. One man was indicted. By order of

General Hulen, Sergeant McCauley and Private Dunaway went to Eagle Pass

to assist in the quarantine regulations and guarded the river until

450
the quarantine was raised. Accompanied by Sergeant McCauley, I went

with Deputy Sheriff Kenton to capture a man, but failed to get him out

of Mexico. Several scouts were made to Sanderson and Fort Stockton to

assist the officers. Private Bean arrested two Mexicans for carrying

pistols, and carried them to jail, by order of the justice of the

peace. Privates Delling and Ryan arrested two Mexicans for disturbing

the peace. Private Taylor went to Columbus as witness in the Cortez

case. Privates Delling and Smith went with Sheriff Walton to assist him

in his county for several days.

October, 1903.--Sergeant McCauley and Private Dunaway were still on

quarantine service at Eagle Pass. Private Dunaway arrested a Mexican

for running a night watchman from his duty, and put him in jail.

Privates Ryan and Bean arrested a man for burglarizing Finley ranch;

recovered the property stolen, and turned it over to its owner. The

man was put in jail at El Paso. Private Smith assisted the sheriff and

scouted with him over the county, and then went to Marfa and assisted

the officers there. Sergeant McCauley and Private Dunaway returned from

Eagle Pass, where they have been on duty for several months. Private

Bean scouted after outlaws during the month. Private Ryan went to Fort

Stockton to attend district court, and went to Sanderson to do some

work for the sheriff in serving some papers. Privates Taylor, Smith and

Delling carried prisoners from Fort Stockton to Marfa for safe keeping.

Privates Smith, Taylor and Delling attended district court in Del Rio.

451
December, 1903.--By order of General Hulen, I went to Walker County to

look after parties who waylaid and assassinated Bob James in Kittrell's

"Cut-off" on December 4th. I arrived there on the 12th, and on the

13th and 14th arrested Buck Shaw, Henry Shaw, P. Clark and Jim Alston

as being implicated in the murder, carried them to Huntsville, and had

them put in the penitentiary for safe keeping. Held a court of inquiry

before Judge Cox, a justice of the peace, every few days. On the 24th

Buck Shaw, the leader of the gang, had an examining trial, and was held

without bail. Chas. Rhoden was tried on the 29th and held without bail.

The defendants then sued out writs of habeas corpus before District

Judge Smithers. Alston was allowed bail in the sum of $1,500. Private

Delling arrived in the "Cut-off" on the 16th and has been assisting

me since in the cases. Private Delling assisted in arresting two men

for theft of cattle. Private Bean killed a negro porter at El Paso for

knocking him down with an iron poker, and was promptly acquitted in

district court at El Paso in January. Sergeant McCauley went to Marfa

to investigate some stealing there and then went to investigate the

killing of William Johnson.

January, 1904.--I, together with Private Delling, went to Corrigan and

Livingston to look after some witnesses. I went after a bad negro for

Sheriff Brooks. The negro was armed with a shot-gun, and considerable

shooting occurred. After the negro ran out he shot at me and I wounded

452
him in the side. Went to Huntsville to attend habeas corpus trial of

the murderers of Bob James, which resulted in holding Shaw, Rhoden and

Clark without bail. Assisted Sheriff Brooks in arresting a bad negro,

wanted for robbing. Scouted in Houston, Trinity and Walker counties

during the month, continually. Private Delling went to Polk County and

arrested four men for theft of hogs and put them in jail at Huntsville.

Sergeant McCauley arrested C. Marsden for murder. Sergeant McCauley,

Privates Ryan and Bean scouted to Love's ranch to stop an invasion of

Mexicans who were coming over after parties charged with murder on this

side.

February, 1904.--I went to Crockett after attached witness. Private

Delling arrested a man in the "Cut-off" for theft of hogs. I was

ordered to Groveton by Adjutant General Hulen for the purpose of

investigating the murder of an old lady. Touchstone, who was murdered

for her land and money and thrown out the door for the hogs to eat.

After investigation, I found that her throat had been cut and that she

had been killed outright. Assisted by Private Delling I arrested Ab

Angle, who had run off, as principal, and five others as accomplices.

These parties were indicted by the grand jury. I caught one of them

over the line of Arkansas while running away and put him in the pen

at Henderson. Private Delling arrested a man in the "Cut-off" for

horse theft, and put him in jail at Groveton. Private Dunaway arrested

a man for robbing a camp. Private Bean arrested five Mexicans for

453
disturbing the peace, and one man for assault to murder. Privates

Taylor and Smith attended district court at Marfa. Privates Smith and

Dunaway were ordered to Groveton to assist me in holding down the

toughs of east Texas. Private Ryan attended district court at Amarillo;

attended district court at Huntsville; assisted the sheriff in handling

prisoners. Private Delling arrested three men for shooting up the town.

He also arrested one who was charged with adultery in the "Cut-off"

and one for waylaying and shooting two men at Phelps with a shot-gun.

Private Dunaway arrested a man for carrying a pistol at Groveton, and

two men for conspiring to kill Abe Hyman, the only eyewitness to the

murder of Dr. Gary, and another man at Groveton. One of the men had

fixed a plan to make the other believe that Abe Hyman was going to

do him some violence, and succeeded in getting him to get a shot-gun

in order to kill Abe Hyman. Private Dunaway took the gun and landed

both men in jail. The accused men admitted the whole truth. One of

these men was made constable, deputy sheriff and jailer as soon as

he was released from jail. The other was run off at once, but I have

his sworn statements of the facts. Private Dunaway arrested a man for

burglary and rape and put him in jail. Private Taylor arrested a man at

Sanderson for stealing cattle. Private Taylor was ordered to report to

me at Groveton. Private Dunaway arrested a man for carrying a pistol,

put him in jail, but the sheriff released him soon after, pretending he

was an assistant of his.

454
April, 1904.--I carried two of the accomplices in the Touchstone

murder from Huntsville to Groveton. By order of the Adjutant General

I went to Leon County to investigate the murder of Tummins, who was

waylaid and killed. Two men were arrested at the house of the murderer

and put under $5,000 bond, but the grand jury failed to find a bill

against them. They then began shooting into houses and had the people

considerably disturbed. With Private Delling, I arrested them and held

them without bail at the examining trial and also in habeas corpus

trial. I was ordered to San Jacinto County to investigate lawlessness

there, especially wire cutting, but found some of the wire cutters

on the grand jury, and it was the opinion of the district and county

attorney that we could do no good under existing circumstances, and

nothing was accomplished there. Private Dunaway arrested a man for

assault to rape. Assisted by Privates Dunaway and Delling, I arrested

four persons charged with murder. They had previously been arrested for

being accomplices to the Touchstone murder. I arrested a man for theft

of a horse. Sergeant McCauley scouted in different counties on the Rio

Grande, and investigated the stealing of horses. I went to Waverly to

investigate the poisoning of a well and cistern, but decided it was

done by the parties themselves, in order to accuse others of it. I went

to Palestine to assist the sheriff in hanging a negro charged with

rape. Private Delling went to Leon County to investigate the murder

of Bob Blackwell, and succeeded in securing the required evidence. He

attended the examining trial of the two men charged with the murder,

455
who were held without bail. Privates Smith and Dunaway arrested a man

for attempting to murder A.A. Smith and put him in jail. They also

arrested the same man for carrying a pistol. Private Ryan arrested two

Mexicans for stealing sheep in El Paso County and another for stealing

wood.

June, 1904.--Private Delling and myself scouted in Kittrell's

"Cut-off," Houston and Trinity Counties. I went to Comstock; made

a scout on Devil's River, to El Paso and to Fort Hancock. Sergeant

McCauley arrested a man for embezzlement and started to jail with

him at El Paso, but he escaped by jumping out of a window while the

train was in motion. Sergeant McCauley and Private Ryan arrested two

Mexicans for theft of horses and saddles, recovered the property and

returned the same to its owners. Private Ryan attempted to arrest a

man for theft of cattle, and had a running fight with and wounded him.

He escaped across the river. Private Dunaway arrested a man and put

him in jail for carrying a pistol. Privates Delling and Smith went to

Centerville to court to prevent trouble between citizens there, when a

malicious prosecution was filed against him. Private Delling arrested a

man for carrying a pistol in the "Cut-off."

July, 1904.--Accompanied by Privates Delling and Wilcox, I went to

Oakwood to investigate train robbing of the I. & G.N. We captured two

of the men without a doubt. They were put in jail at Palestine and

456
identified by the conductor as the two men that came into the sleeper,

and the only two tracks that led up to where the express packages were

torn open fitted theirs. They afterwards admitted them to be their

tracks. While we made a strong case against them, the influence of the

officers and others was too strong to find any bills. I would like to

have space to add in this report the testimony taken at the examining

trial.

August, 1904.--I went to Groveton to attend court, and carried Ab

Angle before the grand jury, but he failed to testify, as he had been

persuaded not to do so. I arrested a man for being implicated in train

robbery, but he proved an alibi and was released. Private Delling went

to Centerville to district court. Sergeant McCauley recovered six

stolen horses and turned them over to the owners. He arrested four

Mexicans for theft of cattle.

Very respectfully,

W.J. MCDONALD,

Commanding Company B, Ranger Force.

Table Showing Result of Operations of the Ranger Force from September

1, 1902, to August 31, 1904.

457
 COMMANDERS OF |Captain J. |Captain W. |Captain J.|Captain Jno.|

COMPANIES. |A. Brooks |J. McDonald|H. Rogers | R. Hughes | Totals

---------------------+-----------+-----------+----------+------------+------

Letter of company. | A | B | C | D |

Murder. | 26 | 31 | 8 | 5 | 70

Arrests Made. | | | | |

Assault to murder. | 28 | 19 | 3 | 6 | 56

Aggravated assault.| 5 | 4 | 4 | | 13

Horse, cattle and | | | | |

other theft. | 43 | 37 | | 39 | 119

Swindling, | | | | |

embezzlement and | | | | |

forgery. | 15 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 23

Robbery and | | | | |

burglary. | | 12 | 17 | 1 | 30

Mail and train | | | | |

robbery. | | 3 | 1 | | 4

Perjury. | | | 4 | 1 | 5

Rape and adultery. | | 6 | 1 | 7 | 14

Smuggling. | | | | 27 | 27

Carrying concealed | | | | |

weapons. | 17 | 23 | 10 | | 50

Seduction. | 2 | | | 1 | 3

Escaped convicts | | | | |

458
 (captured). | 2 | | | | 2

Rioting. | | | | |

Minor offenses. | 206 | 35 | 6 | 75 | 352

Total arrests. | 44 | 172 | 86 | 166 | 768

---------------------+----------+------------+----------+------------+-------

Scouts. | 140 | 205 | 81 | 204 | 630

Attempts at arrest. | | | | |

District courts | | | | |

assisted. | 19 | 25 | 16 | 16 | 76

Number days | | | | |

quarantine guard. | | | | 224 | 224

Jail guards. | | 15 | 13 | | 28

Other assistance to | | | | |

to civil authority.| | 30 | 12 | 20 | 62

Engagements with | | | | |

criminals. | 3 | | 1 | | 4

Persons killed in | | | | |

resisting arrest. | 2 | | 1 | | 3

Wounded in | | | | |

resisting arrest. | | | | |

Escorts. | 3 | 5 | | | 8

Rangers killed in | | | | |

line of duty. | 1 | | | | 1

Rangers wounded in | | | | |

459
 line of duty. | 1 | | | | 1

Horses and cattle | | | | |

recovered and | | | | |

returned to owners.| 362 | 28 | 21 | 168 | 579

Miles traveled in | | | | |

discharge of duty. |47,834 | 4,537 | 57,347 | 45,839 |225,557

---------------------+-----------+-----------+----------+------------+-------

APPENDIX D

REPORT OF AN INVESTIGATION MADE BY HERBERT J. BROWN, EM-

PLOYED BY THE

WAR DEPARTMENT IN CONJUNCTION WITH CAPTAIN W.G. BALDWIN,

WITH A VIEW

OF LEARNING WHAT HAPPENED AT BROWNSVILLE, TEX., ON THE 13TH

AND 14TH OF

AUGUST, 1906

WASHINGTON, _D.C._, _December 5, 1908_.

SIR: I have the honor to submit the following report relative to the

460
investigation of the Brownsville raid:

Ex-Private Boyd Conyers, of Company B, Twenty-fifth Infantry, now at

Monroe, Ga., told William Lawson, a detective in the employ of Captain

William G. Baldwin, of Roanoke, Va., that he and three [or four] other

men of the Twenty-fifth Infantry were the leaders in the Brownsville

raid. This information was obtained at different dates during the month

of June, 1908. (See Exhibit A.)

I submit the affidavit as presented. There are certain discrepancies

of a minor character, due to the fact that Lawson is illiterate and

had to depend on his memory for details. But it should be borne in

mind that Lawson was unacquainted with the details of the Brownsville

raid and was given information which could have come only from one

familiar with the secret history of the affair. Lawson's first report

included the names of Conyers, John Holloman, John Brown, and "another

man." Subsequently he supplied the name of James Powell, but I think

the original name given was that of Robert L. Collier, Company C, one

of the relief guard. This information was corroborated in the presence

of witnesses, but before Lawson could finish his work Conyers became

suspicious and would give no further evidence incriminating himself.

From then on he furnished to A.H. Baldwin, Captain W.G. Baldwin, and

to myself information piecemeal and reluctantly. The name of Carolina

de Saussure, his bunk mate, was the last one obtained.

461
Conyers tried to commit suicide after he found that he had made his

statements to a detective, declaring that the other negroes would kill

him when it got out. He finally wrote to Senator Foraker and received a

reply, a copy of which is annexed. That reply he construed to mean that

he should stick to his original story told before the Senate committee

at all hazards, and there he stands. I have every reason to believe

that his confession is genuine and gives for the first time the true

secret history of the Brownsville raid.

The list of participants given in this report Conyers furnished me

personally. I believe it is substantially correct, but with the

influences shown to be backing Conyers to adhere to his false testimony

given before the Senate committee still being exerted he cannot

be relied on to support his own confession until it is thoroughly

sustained from other sources.

Evidences of similar encouragement to stick to the lies told at

Brownsville and before the Senate committee were found in many places,

and subsequent to the date of the Foraker letter they became stronger

and more obstructive than ever.

The investigation has been conducted with strict recognition of the

advisability of preserving secrecy, and with discretion. No promises of

462
immunity were made. The knowledge on the part of the ex-soldiers that

the Government could not punish them after their separation from the

service, coupled with the belief that by preserving silence they would

aid in the passage of the relief legislation now pending in Congress,

has added to the difficulty of securing information.

The issue has evidently become racial. The colored detectives would be

confronted frequently in the smaller towns where these men are living

with a demand from colored men for information as to their business.

We have located over 130 of these ex-soldiers, and have been in thirty

States in quest of information. The appendices give statements as to

the results obtained. They indicate a general knowledge on the part of

the ex-soldiers that the raid came from inside the fort, and that the

soldiers of Company B were the guilty parties.

We earnestly urge that we be permitted to continue the investigation.

Several detectives are still in the field, and within the coming week a

number of affidavits will be forthcoming.

With some repetition of matter appearing later in the report, Boyd

Conyers's story is given here in narrative form:

463
REPORT OF T.B. SKIDMORE.

"The rumors of trouble over the assignment of colored troops to

Brownsville were circulated before the troops left Fort Niobrara, and

preparations were made among the men to 'get even with the crackers,'

so the whites were called. Some cartridges were held out at range

practice, but more en route to Brownsville. Pretense was made that they

were given away at stations along the road. Some were, but a large

number were secreted.

"At inspection in Brownsville, Lieutenant Lawrason, Company B,

threatened punishment to the men who were short of ammunition, but

nothing was done about it, and the deficiency was supplied.

"The friction with citizens of Brownsville began at once. In Boyd

Conyers's language, 'Whisky made all the trouble. If we hadn't been

drinking we wouldn't have had the nerve to shoot up the town.'

"It was agreed, at a gathering of a few men in the saloon of Allison,

the colored ex-soldier, on the afternoon of August 13, 1906, that the

raid should take place that night at 12 o'clock. It seems to have been

delayed a few minutes to let Tamayo, the Mexican scavenger, get away

from the B barracks.

464
"John Holloman, the money lender of Company B, was the chief

conspirator and leader in the raid and custodian and distributor of

the cartridges, but his plans could not have been carried out had not

Sergeant George Jackson, of Company B, in charge of the keys of the

gun racks in B barracks, and Sergeant Reid, in command of the guards,

co-operated both before and after the raid.

"The four men who led the raid were John Holloman, John Brown, Boyd

Conyers, and Carolina de Saussure, all of Company B (and probably R.L.

Collier, of Company C). Holloman was in barracks, Brown in the bake

shop, Conyers and De Saussure in the guardhouse. The two latter were in

the same detail, and had been relieved at about 11 o'clock, de Saussure

on the post at the guardhouse, and Conyers on No. 2, around the

barracks and facing the town. Holloman got the party together. Conyers

and De Saussure slept on the same bunk in the guardhouse, claiming that

they wanted to get under the mosquito net, and they had the trick of

taking their guns into the bunk instead of placing them in the open

rack, on the excuse that they didn't rust so badly under cover, but

really so the absence of the guns from the open guardhouse rack would

not attract attention, and their own absence would be ascribed to a

visit to the closet, which was back of the guardhouse. These two men

slipped out the rear door of the guardhouse, passed through the sally

port, and joined Holloman and Brown.

465
"The party crossed the wall of the fort down near the end of A

barracks, went up the roadway to the entrance to the Cowen alley, where

the signal shots were fired. These shots were immediately tallied onto

by the alarm shots of Joseph B. Howard, guard on No. 2, and formed

the series testified to by Mrs. Katie E. Leahy, of Brownsville. Her

testimony is further borne out by the statement that not over thirty

seconds elapsed before a number of men of Company B swarmed out on the

upper gallery and opened a fusillade on the town.

"It is an absolute certainty that it would have been impossible

for Sergeant Jackson to have opened the gun racks, for the men to

have assembled, secured their guns, loaded them, gone out to the

gallery, and started firing, all after the first shot was fired; all

aroused, as they testified unanimously, from sound slumber, in less

than two minutes, in the confusion of a dark barrack room. Beyond

the possibility of a doubt, the racks had been opened and the inside

conspirators were ready to pour out on the signal shots. The testimony

is ample that there were scarcely twenty seconds between the last of

the signal shots and the first general volley from B barracks.

"The number firing from the barracks is unknown, but perhaps 20 men

were involved. A smaller number went to the ground and followed the

leaders up the alley. It will be remembered that one of the witnesses

testified to hearing some one of the group of soldiers exclaim, 'There

466
they go!' Whereupon these men leaped over the wall and ran up the alley.

"Boyd Conyers is the man whose gun jammed at the exit of the alley by

the Cowen house, testified to by Herbert Elkins, and it was taken from

him by De Saussure and fixed in the street where the light from the

street lamp at the corner of Elizabeth Street shone on them.

"Less than five minutes elapsed from the time the first shot was fired

until these men were all back inside the fort.

"Conyers stated that Reid was told that they were going to shoot up

the town, and he had laughed and said, 'Don't go out there and let the

crackers get the best of you.'

"When Conyers and De Saussure reached the guardhouse they ran in the

back way and got into their bunks. Sergeant Reid came in and swore at

them, but Conyers was so excited and out of breath that he could hardly

stand, so Reid stationed him at the rear of the guardhouse in the dark

where he could not be scrutinized so closely.

"Holloman came around with extra cartridges about daybreak and Reid

passed them out. The guns were all cleaned before daylight."

This day personally appeared before me William Lawson, who, being duly

467
sworn, deposes and says:

"On June 5, 1908, I was sent to Monroe, Ga., to interview Boyd Conyers,

one of the soldiers who was stationed at Brownsville, Tex., in August,

1906. I was sent by Mr. Baldwin to get in with Conyers and ascertain if

he knew who did the shooting at that point. I was not given the names

of any of the members of either of the companies stationed at that

point, nor was I given any other information, except the fact that a

shooting occurred at the time and place above mentioned, and that Boyd

Conyers was suspected of knowing who did same.

"I arrived at Monroe, Ga., on June 5, and stopped at the home of Esther

Crews, colored. I met Boyd Conyers, who is known as 'Buddie' Conyers,

on the morning of June 6, but had very little conversation with him,

but was introduced to him as an old soldier. On the morning of June

8, between 8 and 9 o'clock, I met Conyers about halfway between the

station house and Main Street. We talked some twenty or twenty-five

minutes. I broached the Brownsville case, and mentioned the fact that

the soldiers had shown their good sense by keeping their mouths while

at Washington. I then asked him what the motive was for the shooting.

He told me that the 'crackers' at Brownsville had made threats that

they would have no negro soldiers at Brownsville, and the soldiers had

made it up in their minds that if they bothered them that they would

go in and clean up the ground. He also said that they mentioned this

468
to Sergeant Reid, who was commander of the guards, and that Reid said,

'All that I have to say is to take care of yourself and the boys when

you go down there.' S.H. Parker, whose home is at Charleston, S. C, was

present and heard the same conversation.

"About then a gentleman called Conyers to come and clean some clothes,

and Conyers left, and nothing further was said about the matter at this

time. I was with Conyers nearly every day, and went to Gainesville,

Ga., on an excursion with him on the 15th of June. I did not mention

the Brownsville matter to Conyers again until on the 29th of June, when

I returned from Atlanta, having gone there on June 27. On this date I

met him at Joe Blassingame's and had a pint bottle of liquor, offered

him a drink--he would not drink in the house, but we went up the street

and we stopped under a storehouse porch, near Main street. We took a

drink or two, and I started the Brownsville case again. He told me that

he was doing guard duty at the time of the shooting at Brownsville,

and was stationed at the outlet toward the town. He said that when the

guard was called the night of the shooting they mentioned to Sergeant

Reid what had occurred downtown, and he said, 'Boys, if you are not

satisfied, you will have to go and get satisfied,' and they remarked

that they were going to get satisfaction that night. Reid then laughed

and said, 'Boys, don't you go down there and let them get the best of

you.' He then assigned the guard and went away.

469
"In this conversation Conyers told me that John Brown, J.H. Holloman,

and a man named Powell, and several others, came down where he was on

guard, and that they went downtown and just gave them hell, and after

they shot out all of their cartridges they ran back to the barracks,

and when they got back to the barracks they found that the alarm had

been sounded and the officers were calling the roll. Holloman, Brown,

and himself were late for roll call, but that some one answered for

Brown and Holloman, but that he was late, and that Reid told him that

they had gotten themselves and himself in a hell of a hole, and told

him to go to the guardhouse and pretend to be asleep, which he did.

"He told me that they had slipped a few cartridges when at target

practice and that before inspection, after the shooting, Reid gave

him some cartridges to replace the ones he had used. He further said

that they had all agreed before they went out that they would keep

their mouths, and that he would have told them at the investigation at

Washington all about the shooting, but that he was afraid. I had no

further talk with Conyers, because I saw that I was being suspected by

the negroes around Monroe, Ga.

"WILLIAM (his x mark) LAWSON."

Witnesses:

470
H.J. Browne.

Geo. W. Madert.

DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, _ss._:

Subscribed and sworn to before me, a notary public in and for the

District aforesaid, this 16th day of October, A.D. 1908.

[SEAL] GEO. W. MADERT,

_Notary Public_.

This day personally appeared before me Herbert J. Browne, of

Washington, D.C., who, being duly sworn, deposes and says:

"I was employed by the War Department in May, 1908, in company with

Captain William G. Baldwin, of Roanoke, Va., chief of the Baldwin

Detective Agency, to investigate the conduct of the battalion of the

Twenty-fifth Infantry, stationed at Brownsville, Tex., which conduct

resulted in the Brownsville raid, so called, on the night of August

13-14, 1906, wherein one Frank Natus was killed, Lieutenant of Police

Dominguez badly wounded, and the houses of several citizens were shot

into. Captain Baldwin has charge of the secret work for the Norfolk and

Western Railway, the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway, the Southern Railway,

471
and the Atlantic Coast Line, and is one of the best known and most

responsible detectives in the country.

"In conjunction with him I have been continuously employed upon this

work since its inception in May.

"The facts set forth in my report addressed to General George B. Davis,

Judge-Advocate-General, War Department, under date of December 5, 1908,

are true to the best of my knowledge and belief.

"In particular I visited Monroe, Ga., to corroborate the investigation

at that point of William Lawson, a colored detective in the employ of

Captain Baldwin, whose affidavit and reports are annexed to and made a

part of my report of December 5, 1908, above referred to.

"I had several interviews at Monroe with Boyd Conyers, ex-private

of Company B, Twenty-fifth Infantry, one of the guard on the night

of the Brownsville raid, and found that William Lawson's statements

regarding Conyers were substantially and essentially correct. I

personally obtained from Conyers further information detailing how

the cartridges used in the raid were surreptitiously and illegally

obtained and distributed, how the principal raiders proceeded, when

and by whom the gun racks in Company B were unlawfully and secretly

opened for the purpose of the raid, how the raiders were protected

472
during and subsequent to the raid and given opportunity to clean their

guns, and, in particular, was furnished by Conyers with the names of

eight participants in the raid other than the three named by him in his

statements to William Lawson, a total of eleven, including himself, the

said Conyers, all members of Company B, Twenty-fifth Infantry.

"The leaders of the raid, as named by Boyd Conyers, were John Holloman,

John Brown, Carolina de Saussure, and himself. Following them were

William Anderson, James Bailey, Charles E. Cooper, William Lemons,

Henry Jimerson, James 'Rastus' Johnson, and Henry 'Sonny' Jones.

Sergeant Reid, in charge of the guard, was accused by Conyers of

knowledge before and after the raid. Sergeant George Jackson, in charge

of the keys of the gun racks of Company B, was accused of opening the

racks for the raiders, and of again opening them subsequent to the raid

in order that the guns might be removed and cleaned.

"I found Boyd Conyers in a disturbed frame of mind. No claim is made

that his original declarations to William Lawson were other than those

of a criminal boasting to one of his own race of his crime and of his

success in escaping discovery. His subsequent declarations to me were

given partly during moments of contrition and in a desire to unload

his conscience by a confession and partly as the result of careful and

persistent questioning.

473
"I found the effect of the letter from Senator Foraker to Conyers

extremely obstructive. He seemed to regard it as a mandate to adhere

to the false story told by him before the Senate Committee on Military

Affairs, and as absolving him from any and all obligations to aid in

uncovering the truth. Similar influences were encountered at many

points, adding largely to the difficulty of obtaining admissions of

even the most obvious facts relative to the raid.

"HERBERT J. BROWNE."

Subscribed and sworn to before me this 9th day of December, 1908.

[SEAL.] J.B. RANDOLPH, _Notary Public_.

APPENDIX E

REPORT OF T.B. SKIDMORE,

Presiding Judge of Election, Precinct No. 1, Rio Grande City, November,

1906

474
RIO GRANDE CITY, TEXAS, 11/12/06.

_Hon. Jno. R. Hulen, Adj.-Gen.,

City._

SIR:

As the presiding judge for this Precinct, No. (1) one of Starr County,

Texas, at the late general election held in this city on the 6th day

of November, 1906, in the upstairs room at the court-house, used by

the district judge as the court-room, permit me to make the following

report of the proceedings had that day:

Having had no call nor communication from the Republicans of this place

for representation among the (4) four clerks of the election subject

to appointment by the presiding officer, they had already been named,

taking care that one man who had theretofore voted the Republican

ticket was chosen and also one man whom I knew to favor Mr. Gregorio

Duffy, the ruling spirit locally of the opposition to the Democrats.

Also, having heard ugly rumors of threats accredited to the

Republicans, I had notified eighteen (18) law abiding citizens to be

present at the polls as early as half-past seven A.M. on the 6th of

475
November, 1906, then and there to take the oath of office and act as

the peace officers during the election. Of these only 12, I think,

appeared and were sworn in.

As soon as the election judges assembled they and those of the peace

officers present and the supervisors were sworn in.

At this point the presiding officer stepped to the front door and

noting that a body of armed men on horseback and afoot had assembled

on the outside at the 100-foot limit from the polling place, asked

who had dared come to the polls thus armed and was told they were the

Republican voters.

Immediately Mr. F.W. Seabury called me to the foot of the first flight

of steps and introduced me to a Mr. Creager, who, after replying

that the armed men outside were Jose Pina's peace officers, demanded

representation among the clerks of election. I told him that all

parties had representation, but when he insisted on some of the names

he suggested, it being agreed to by the person, I put Domingo L. Garza

in the place of the Duffy representative I had called to act as clerk.

From the names Mr. Creager suggested as inside officer, I also chose

Mr. Jose Pina, believing that by having him under my direction, the

agreement between Mr. Seabury and the presiding judge on the one

476
hand and Mr. Creager on the other, that the voters should come up

stairs in pairs--one Democrat and one Republican together--could best

be maintained, for the reason that the said Jose Pina had been the

agency who, through his magisterial capacity incident to him as county

commissioner for this Precinct, had appointed the (40) forty peace

officers that Mr. Creager said the Republicans had at hand to preserve

the peace and insure a fair and quiet election.

Thereupon Mr. Garza and Mr. Pina and the balance of the peace officers

called by the presiding judge were sworn in, and word reaching me that

threats of breaking in the front door below were being made by the

Republican crowd outside, the janitor was ordered to open it; the polls

were declared open and the timepiece set at eight o'clock A.M.

During the course of the first half hour--possibly it was that

long--the agreement of pairing the voters coming up to the vote was

observed. Then, noting that for some minutes nearly all the voters had

been Republicans, inside peace officer, Jose Pina, was directed to see

why there were no Democrats coming in.

On his return he told me it would be all right and that there were no

Democrats at the door just then, but another of my deputies from below

in response to my call came up and told me the Republicans had taken

possession of the staircase and lower door and would only let such

477
Democrats in as forced their way by them at peril of their lives.

At the end of about (2) two hours the disorder became so great that

repeated demand had to be made on Mr. Jose Pina and the other inside

officers to regulate the people outside the rail. On seeing that even

Mr. Pina could not control his Republican friends I had to threaten the

crowd with closing the polls if they did not preserve order, and remain

in line instead of filling the area outside the railing to such an

extent as to threaten to tear it loose from the floor.

Immediately after the fourth threat of this kind, I was informed and

could see from the faces of the crowd that only trouble would ensue

if I tried that method to handle them, so I let them have their own

way and thereafter they did break the railing supports loose from

the floor. Thereafter, I repeatedly called on Mr. Juan Hinajosa, the

Republican challenger, to enforce order and refused to receive any more

votes until his people should get into line.

On entering the polling place, my only object was to see that a fair

election should take place, and I do not think that I neglected any

precaution to have it so. I repeatedly sent word to my peace officers

below, after about half-past ten A.M., to clear the stairs and lower

corridor of all who had already voted, but none of them could be found

generally, and when one was found he would send back word that he could

478
do nothing with the crowd and that Democratic voters were being turned

away from the lower door and only Republican voters were being allowed

to enter.

I have since been told by the peace officers of the election, that fear

for their lives led them to desist from trying to enforce the entry of

Democrats into the line going to the polls.

I have also since learned that Democratic voters who were business men

of the town, left their places of business as many as three and four

times and went to the polls to vote, but were denied entrance by Mr.

Pina's armed deputies and other Republicans and their sympathizers. And

also that four desperate characters with Winchesters in their hands

were picketed in front of the lower entrance to the court-house, and

that when asked if they were voters Mr. Gregorio Duffy replied, "No,

they are only some posts driven in the ground there for a rear-guard to

keep out the Democrats."

Also on examination of the certified list of poll-tax payers of this

precinct after the election, I find that 126 of them did not vote, and

nearly all were Democrats. Why, I have not had time yet to inquire, but

you will note that this failure to vote bears out the statements of the

peace officers appointed by the presiding judge.

479
During the course of the election 160 out of the 367 voters who

deposited their ballots were sworn, and I believe that if the legal

voters only of those 160 had been permitted to vote and the Democrats

of the 126 poll-tax payers who did not get to vote had been permitted

to do so that the majority would have stood about 40 in favor of the

Democrats instead of 103 against them, as it did result.

Permit me to explain in closing that I had reasons to believe before

the election that the Republicans intended to appear in force and with

arms at the election, but, under the advice of Judge Welch, I had

made no arrangements up to the evening before the election for peace

officers of my appointing, but that, when I told him about five o'clock

P.M. on November 5th that 30 or 40 strangers from Mexico were in town,

Judge Welch told me to appoint whatever number I thought proper to

guarantee a peaceable election, but especially admonished me not to

have so many as to give the semblance of an armed force at the polls.

Such being my course beforehand, I felt myself morally responsible for

the lives of the men I had appointed as peace officers, and therefore

never sent them any command during the day to use force in handling

the crowd, and that they were all men of good enough sense to see the

futility of such a course is shown by the fact that they did not in any

instance act arbitrarily.

480
In conclusion let me add that I had no interest to serve and none at

stake in this election, and that my only interest now in submitting

this report is to help, as best. I may, in maintaining the majesty of

American law and the purity of the ballot box, and the sanctity of the

elective franchise thereunder to the utmost confines of this American

Union.

I am, Sir, yours sincerely,

T.B. SKIDMORE,

_Late Pres. Judge of Election in Precinct No. 1 of Starr Co.,

Tex., on Nov. 6, 1906_.

Duffy has since been murdered.

APPENDIX F

PORTION OF A MESSAGE FROM GOVERNOR T.M. CAMPBELL, REFER-

RING TO RECENTLY

ENACTED LAWS AND THEIR ENFORCEMENT

481
AUSTIN, January 14, 1909.

_To the Senate and House of Representatives_:

As members of the Thirty-first Legislature, you have each voluntarily

undertaken an important task. Your duties are important and your

responsibilities are serious. You have assembled under favorable

conditions. The State Treasury is on a cash basis. The State is

generally prosperous, and the people are contented and happy. The law

is supreme in Texas, and all the laws are now very generally enforced

and obeyed.

There is no substantial reason to doubt that the welfare of the State

and the happiness of the people will be promoted by the intelligence

of your work, and by your fidelity to the people with whom you made a

covenant at the ballot box. You need make no serious mistakes, as the

will of the people has been ascertained upon all important matters

which demand the attention of the Legislature at this time.

Organized avarice, though in attempted disguise, can hardly be expected

to override the popular will. Selfish interests and those seeking

special advantages and exclusive privileges will have their ready

advocates on every hand, and wholesome legislation heretofore enacted

for the protection of the people will doubtless be assailed. A word of

482
caution is therefore offered to the end that the chosen representative

of a confiding constituency may be on his guard. It is not unlikely

that designing forces have organized and will be maintained at the

Capitol which will test the wisdom, integrity and patriotism of this

Legislature.

The laws enacted and the reforms wrought under the present

administration in behalf of the great masses of the people of Texas

have been under fire for nearly two years, and have repeatedly

received the emphatic endorsement of the Democratic voters of our

State, and have been approved and re-affirmed by the organized

Democracy in convention assembled. The platform of the opposition

party demanded the repeal or modification of many of these important

laws, and that party, its candidates and its platform were repudiated

and defeated by about 150,000 majority. Desperate efforts have been

employed by sinister agencies to discredit these laws, and to defeat

the operation of these reforms, but the people have willed otherwise,

and the laws have come to stay. Such changes as may be sought by the

friends of the laws to strengthen them, and which may be dictated by

experience, may, with propriety, be made, but these laws were demanded

by the people; they were enacted by their trusted representatives, and

in spirit and substance they should stand.

They are just and right and ought to stand. The result of the recent

483
political contests involving these laws and reforms strikingly

demonstrate that the agencies of corrupt and sinister special interests

can not dominate and control in Texas. The patriotism of our people and

the freedom of speech which obtains in Texas make it certain that her

incorruptible electorate can be safely trusted to uphold the public

official who keeps the faith and redeems his pledges made to them.

Those who have contended that modifications and exceptions in their

interest should be made in the laws enacted by the last Legislature

might have placed their propositions upon the Democratic primary

election ticket, and thus tested them at the ballot box, or they could

have uncovered their schemes in the last Democratic convention, and

these plans were suggested time and again as open to them. This course

was open under the law, but they chose rather to undertake the defeat

of candidates who stood for these laws. In this they signally failed

in every instance. The State Democratic Convention, following the lead

of nearly all the county conventions, endorsed the laws as they stood,

and placed the party candidates upon a platform committed to their

perpetuation. The enemies of the legislation and reforms enacted by the

last Legislature chose to submit their demands for repeal, changes and

modifications thereof in the Republican State platform, which of course

binds all representatives of that party faith. Democrats are bound by

party action, by the verdict rendered at the polls, and by the platform

made by its convention.

484
The Democratic platform declaration with respect to the laws enacted

during this administration is as follows:

"We heartily endorse * * * the acts of the Thirtieth Legislature

enacted in obedience to platform demands, and we rejoice at the

emphatic endorsement given said laws and administration by the

Democratic voters of Texas in the recent primary election."

The measures of commanding importance enacted during the present

administration are in the interest of justice, equality, good

government and decency. They have resulted in no harm or injustice to

any man or to any legitimate business enterprise within this State. The

truth of this statement has already been demonstrated, and any effort

to emasculate, destroy or weaken them would be a fraud upon the people

and a betrayal of the Democratic party. These laws became effective in

the midst of a great national panic, and Texas has been and is in a

better financial and economic condition to-day than any State in the

Republic.

* * * * *

To effect needed reforms and to check evil tendencies, laws were

enacted by the last Legislature to the following effect:

485
1. The keeping of gambling houses and the exhibiting of gambling

devices was made a felony.

2. The practice of drinking intoxicating liquors on railroad trains was

prohibited.

3. A law passed requiring contests of local option elections to be

promptly instituted, and providing that otherwise the legality of such

elections should be conclusively presumed.

4. Authority was granted district judges, on proper showing, to

prevent by injunction the sale of intoxicating liquors in prohibition

communities.

5. A tax of $5,000 was levied on express companies shipping

intoxicating liquors into prohibition districts, the effect of which

was to take the express companies out of the liquor and saloon business.

6. An effective bucket shop law which prohibits gambling in cotton and

other futures, thereby guarding against depression in the prices of

the farmers' crops, as a result of unnatural speculative or gambling

transactions.

486
7. To encourage and promote agricultural development, a separate

Department of Agriculture was created, and has been organized, and

is at this time actively promoting, with the facilities at hand, our

agricultural interests.

8. The occupation tax on useful occupations was repealed.

9. A law prohibiting the free-pass evil was enacted.

10. A law against nepotism was passed.

11. Charter fees of corporations were increased in a just and fair

amount.

12. The depository law enacted keeps in circulation State funds and

the rates of interest secured yields a return largely in excess of

the entire expenses of the State Treasurer's office, and provides a

handsome yield in interest on county funds heretofore deposited in

banks without interest.

13. Laws increasing franchise taxes, and gross-receipts taxes, and

securing the listing, rendition and assessment of the railways'

intangible values for taxation, were enacted, and their operation has

resulted in shifting a large portion of the burden theretofore unjustly

487
borne by the individual property taxpayers to those who had been

evading and escaping taxation.

14. A mine inspection law for the protection of laborers engaged in

mining business, a law against black-listing, and a law lightening the

labors of trainmen, enginemen, and telegraph operators and to protect

the public, and other just laws, were passed for the benefit and

protection of workingmen.

15. The law known as the "Robertson Insurance Law" having for its

object the better protection of the policy-holders in Texas, and to

promote investments in our State, was passed. The practical operation

of this law is to require the investment of seventy-five per cent. of

the Texas reserve of life insurance companies doing business in Texas,

in Texas securities, and to require the deposit of such securities in

the State Treasury, or other depository designated by the law. It is

also provided that the deposit and investment features may be waived by

the Commissioner of Insurance upon substantial showing under the terms

and conditions of the law.

16. The "Full Rendition Law," as it is called, and the "Automatic Tax

Law," having for their respective objects the rendition and assessment

of all taxable property at its full value, greater uniformity and

the adjustment of the tax rates and tax burdens in keeping with the

488
absolute requirements of the government.

17. A uniform text-book law, providing for the adoption of a uniform

system of text-books for all the public free schools of the State was

passed.

18. A law prohibiting insolvent corporations from doing business in

Texas was enacted.

19. A law prohibiting lobbying, and many other useful laws, were passed

in the interest of the people.

* * * * *

In the administration of the State government during the past two

years, an earnest effort has been made by the Executive and all

other departments of the public service, to give the people a clean,

efficient, and economical government.

That the full measure of our success may be ascertained, and the

people more fully informed, the most careful and rigid investigation

into the administration of every department of government and into the

management of each State institution is invited and suggested. That the

laws should be properly enforced upon all alike, no law-abiding man

489
will deny. The Constitution provides that "the Governor shall cause

the laws to be faithfully executed," and every means and power that

could be appropriately exercised has been brought into requisition to

meet this mandate of the Constitution. No one should be strong enough

to escape the power of the law, and none too weak to receive its

protection.

The mandate of the Constitution is clear and the duty of the Governor,

with respect to enforcing the law, is plain, but the Governor's powers

are not adequate, and adequate statutory powers as contemplated by

the Constitution should be promptly provided by legislation suited to

present conditions as well as for future contingencies.

Obedience to all criminal laws should be a condition in liquor dealers'

bonds, and jurisdiction for suits for breach thereof should be given to

the district courts of Travis County.

The transactions of the Treasury Department are set out in detail

in the State Treasurers annual report for the fiscal year ending

August 31, 1908. The report, together with the tables accompanying

the same, contain much useful information, and it is suggested that

an examination of the same will be useful and profitable to the

legislators.

490
At the beginning of this administration, the Comptroller estimated the

deficit for the fiscal year ending August 31, 1907, to be approximately

$300,000, and possibly more. However, as a result of careful and, we

believe, efficient administration, aided by more effective revenue

legislation, the deficit was avoided, and the State has been able to

meet all of its current obligations for the past two years, and at all

times to maintain an adequate working surplus in the State Treasury.

Instead of a deficit, as predicted, on August 31, 1907, the State had

met all of its obligations, and had a cash balance of $692,612.81 to

the credit of the general revenue, and at the close of the fiscal year,

August 31, 1908, after paying all claims when presented, the State had

to the credit of the general revenue fund a balance of $888,985.61.

This very satisfactory financial condition was secured and has been

maintained under the operation of the present tax system without

additional tax burdens upon the individual property-tax payers.

Interests theretofore escaping and property theretofore unrendered have

been required, under the new laws, to contribute more to the support of

the government, thereby lessening the burden upon those who were under

the old laws bearing more than their just share.

To illustrate: Under the operation of the intangible tax law,

$173,698,318 of intangible values of railways and bridge and ferry

companies were listed for State and county taxes for the year 1908. The

491
physical values of the railways increased under the new rendition law

from $100,166,782, in 1906, to $157,822,790, in 1908. The intangible

tax law, and the full rendition law has added to the tax rolls more

than $250,000,000 of railway and other corporate values theretofore

escaping taxation. The credits of money of banks and bankers and

of others than banks and bankers are not now being properly listed

for taxation; still there has been a great improvement, as the tax

rolls show that they were increased from $42,112,424, in 1906, to

$80,717,825, in 1908; an increase of more than 91 per cent. These are

prominent illustrations of property values heretofore escaping, which,

under the new laws, have contributed to the reduction of the ad valorem

tax rate of 20 cents on the one hundred dollars in 1906, to the low

rate of 6-1/4 cents on the one hundred dollars in 1908. The average tax

rate in the counties throughout the State for 1906 was 55 cents on the

one hundred dollars. This average rate of 55 cents was reduced in 1908

to an average rate of 40 cents on the one hundred dollars for county

purposes by the operation of the new laws. The individual citizens who

have been paying taxes upon their homes and farms at a fair valuation

will pay less taxes in 1908 in proportion to value than they have paid

for the support of the State government in any year since 1860, and

as the receipts from other sources to the credit of general revenue

increases, the ad valorem tax rate for State purposes will be reduced

in proportion.

492
Under the operation of the tax laws of the last Legislature, the

property values on the tax rolls increased from $1,221,159,869, in

1906, to $2,174,122,480, in 1908. The amount of taxes paid in 1906

on the tax rate of 20 cents on the one hundred dollars, amounted to

$2,435,412.92, and in 1908, with the tax rate of 6-1/4 cents, the

total tax amounts to $1,358,826.55; an increase in assessed values of

$952,935,411, and a reduction of $1,076,586.37 in the total amount of

ad valorem State taxes levied for 1908 as compared with 1906, and a

much more equitable distribution of the taxes has been secured.

The valuation of property assessed for taxes, the rates and the amounts

of State ad valorem taxes for the years 1906, 1907, and 1908, are as

follows:

1906--Valuation, $1,221,259,869; rate, 20 cents; amount of taxes,

$2,435,412.92.

1907--Valuation, $1,635,297,115; rate, 12-1/2 cents; amount of taxes,

$2,040,625.58.

1908--Valuation, $2,174,122,480; rate, 6-1/4 cents; amount of taxes,

$1,358,826.55.

Receipts to the credit of the State's general revenue for the year

493
1906, 1907, and 1908, from special corporation taxes and from all other

sources, not including the ad valorem taxes on tangible and intangible

values, is shown below; $375,418.94 received from the United States

government in 1906 not included:

1906--Amount of receipts $1,826,682.26

1907--Amount of receipts 2,024,434.80

1908--Amount of receipts 2,416,218.46

The county tax rolls for 1906, 1907, and 1908 disclose the gross

inequalities obtaining throughout the State prior to the recent tax

legislation, and they further show that an earnest effort was made in

the large majority of the counties to comply with the laws respecting

rendition, assessment and equalization. In a few counties, however,

the law was ignored, and the conduct of the tax officials of such

counties was little short of unconscionable. These counties received

the full benefits of the reductions in the State ad valorem tax rate

from 20 cents to 6-1/4 cents, and the State school ad valorem rate

from 20 cents to 16-2/3 cents, and received the full benefit of the

increase in the apportionment of the available school fund, but by

the dereliction and disregard of duty on the part of their trusted

tax officials they contributed practically nothing to the increase of

494
values resulting in such general good. This is so manifestly unfair

and unjust that an effective remedy should be speedily provided by

law. It is inconceivable that the oath of office prescribed by the

Constitution, to say nothing of the oath prescribed by the new statute,

and to which all tax officials must solemnly subscribe, should be so

lightly considered by some men who have been honored with official

station. Each county and each citizen and corporation of the State

should contribute a just share and no more of the taxes necessary to

support the State government and to maintain the public free school

system, and no county, citizen or corporation through the dereliction

of tax officials should be permitted to share in the benefits of

reduced rates, and the increase of school funds when they fail to do

their part. They should not be allowed by official dereliction to shift

their just share of the taxes to the taxpayers of other counties and

communities. It is just to say that the people of some of the counties

where the law was disregarded repudiated the derelict tax officials

upon their first opportunity.

Article 5124e, of Chapter XI, of the Acts of the First Called Session

of the Thirtieth Legislature should be amended so that suits for

removal from office may be instituted and prosecuted either in the

county of such officer's residence, or in the district courts of Travis

County, at the option of the Attorney-General. Laws should also be

enacted providing that resignations or expirations of terms of office

495
shall not abate action for removal from office, and the law should

further provide that county officers who are removed from office for

malfeasance or misfeasance or for any dereliction shall not thereafter

hold office in this State until their eligibility is established and

restored by act of the Legislature.

In this connection, I invite your attention to the respective annual

reports of the State Tax Commissioner and the State Revenue Agent. The

data and the difficulties encountered in the laws enforcement, and the

suggestions made by these faithful officials, will, I believe, be of

much value to the Legislature in improving our system of taxation and

in enacting legislation to secure equality and more uniformity in the

distribution of its burdens.

APPENDIX G

ADDRESS OF THE HON. W.D. WILLIAMS IN REFERENCE TO THE FULL

RENDITION

LAWS

496
I am altogether sensible, gentlemen, of the honor which you have done

me by inviting me to discuss before you that act of the Thirtieth

Legislature of Texas commonly known as the Full Rendition Statute. I

am fully aware of the honor done me, as I have said, and yet I am not

averse to accepting the invitation. I have heard so much said about

this law; I have heard it so wildly praised and so extravagantly

denounced; I have heard its promoters and all who were concerned in the

enactment so severely condemned on the one hand and so unreservedly

lauded on the other; I have read so many editorials in favor of full

rendition and so many more against it, that the fever of strife has

been set to circulating in my own blood, and I have come at last really

to desire to speak my own thoughts on this subject. And especially

is this true when I am afforded to-day the opportunity of addressing

upon this issue the body of distinguished citizens which is assembled

here before me, and which represents the opinions, the aspirations and

the sentiments of the commercial classes of my own State. For this

too is true, gentlemen, that however much I may in some particulars

and on some occasions dissent from the prevailing beliefs of what is

called the business world, I am now and always compelled to admit

that the leaders of commerce are not only keen of intellect, but that

they are full of courage, ready to give weighty reasons for the faith

that is in them, loyal and patriotic citizens, commanding the respect

and admiration of the world, true and sincere friends and generous

adversaries.

497
That statute, which is generally called the Full Rendition statute,

was enacted at the Regular Session of the Thirtieth Legislature, and

is published by official authority as Chapter XI on page 459 of the

General Laws of 1907. By provisions of this act, assessors are required

to list the property for taxation at its reasonable cash market value

or, if it has no market value, then at its real and intrinsic value.

Practically this is what is meant by the words "full value rendition,"

that the rendition shall be at the reasonable cash value of the article

or thing which is listed. But it is well settled by repeated decisions

of appellate courts that where the word "value" is used in a statute

and is not limited either by qualifying words or by the context of the

statute, it has the same meaning as if it had been written "reasonable

cash market value," or "real and intrinsic value."

So that, as respects its actual intent, the Full Rendition statute

brings into operation no new principle and does nothing more than to

deprive our assessors of a common excuse, sometimes honestly made and

sometimes not, of misunderstanding the meaning of the word "value,"

as used in former statutes upon the same subject. The act was not

intended to and did not introduce a new practice in the assessment of

property for taxation, but on the contrary, was aimed at persuading or

compelling obedience to methods already established by law, but fallen

498
into partial or total disuse.

The Constitution of 1876, which is now in force, commands that "all

property in this State shall be taxed in proportion to its value," and,

as already explained, the word "value," as used in this connection,

means fair cash market value, or if the article has no market value,

then its real and intrinsic. The Constitution fixes the same standard

of compensation as does the Act of 1907, and if the latter is correctly

designated as a full rendition law then is the Constitution itself also

a full rendition Constitution.

Now, when we are inclined to complain of the trials and hardships of

the present, it is sometimes the part of wisdom for us to recall for

a moment the conditions and circumstances which surrounded us in the

past. For it is by such a comparison alone that we may truly know

whether our situation has indeed changed for the worse, or whether our

complaints are justified.

We have had an ad valorem general property tax in Texas since the

beginning of the Anglo-Saxon government within our boundaries. The

Constitution of 1836 gave to the legislative department of the Republic

an absolutely free hand to shape laws for the raising of a public

revenue at its sole will and pleasure. "Congress," so it was written,

"shall have power to levy and collect taxes and imposts, excise and

499
tonnage duties." Article 2, Section 1. This authority was sufficiently

broad to enable the Legislature of an independent sovereignty, such as

Texas then was, to determine what persons and what property should be

burdened for the support of the government and what persons and what

property should be exempted. There was no limitation upon the power,

nor any restrictions to prevent whatever discriminations Congress

should see fit to enact.

With this unlimited charter in its hands, the first Congress of Texas

met together in October, 1836, the founders of a new nation, a truly

representative body, great in intellect, great in character and

courage, but greater than all in devotion and loyalty to the eternal

principles of right and justice, which are now, always have been and

always will be the principles of Democracy also. And those ancient

heroes in home-spun, being thus the sovereign legislative body of an

independent people, legislating as well for the planter, with his

broad and fertile lands, tilled by his hundreds of slaves, as for the

wandering hunter and scout, whose Kentucky rifle and pouch of bullets

and horn of powder constituted his sole possessions, passed that

act, entitled "An Act to raise a public revenue by direct taxation,"

approved June 12, 1837. And, after this manner, there came into

being the first "full rendition" statute, which was also the first

statute for the direct taxation of property enacted under Anglo-Saxon

domination in Texas.

500
For, by this act, Congress required all property owners and all

agents and representatives of such owners, to make out and deliver to

the proper assessing officers inventories showing the value of all

their properties, and to swear that same were just, true and faithful

valuations and lists. If the assessor believed any valuation offered to

him was too low, it was made his duty, summarily and without notice or

formality, to call to his assistance two neighboring citizens, to be

selected by himself, and the three of them were required to persuade

and encourage the reluctant property owner into those straight and

narrow paths where duty leads and virtue is its own and only reward.

From the assessor and his chosen helpers there was no appeal. That

which they said was the full value was the full value, both in law and

in fact, and there was an immediate end of the controversy.

In these modern days of frock coats and silk stockings and peace and

comfort, we would incline to think that the Act of 1837, which put a

"big stick" in the hands of the assessor, would have been sufficiently

strenuous to have satisfied even that most strenuous of officers, our

worthy President Theodore Roosevelt. But there were mighty men in those

old days, when Sam Houston was at the head of the Lone Star Republic,

and this problem was as meal between their teeth. They enjoyed it to

the uttermost. They enjoyed it so much that they could not keep their

minds occupied with other things, and, in 1838, Congress amended and

501
strengthened the original "full rendition" bill so as to require every

property owner to swear a still harder swear, to wit, that his list

was a true and perfect inventory and account of his property and its

value. A true and perfect valuation! Think of it, O ye who strain at

gnats in these meek and modern day! A most vigorous oath, indeed, was

that. Strong and bitter, like the medicines they took in those good old

times. And yet I must own to it, gentlemen, that I have nowhere heard

or read that either the oaths or the medicines did them any harm.

I have recalled to your recollection those old days of the golden age

of Texas for one purpose only, which is that you may be reminded how,

in the words of Solomon, "there is nothing new under the sun." There

is nothing new, not even our troubles, and I can imagine that, even

in the time of the Republic, our citizens desisted momentarily from

the lighting of Mexicans and the pursuit of hostile Indians to hold

indignation meetings all the way from Nacogdoches to Matagorda Bay,

where fierce protests were drawn and adopted, condemning Houston and

Lamar and the members of the First Congress for their wickedness in

procuring the enactment of a "full rendition" statute with which to

oppress and impoverish the Lone Star people.

I, myself, am reminded in this connection of the solemn utterances of

some of the daily newspapers, most excellent oracles of Democracy,

warning us in editorial columns long that this is a new country, where

502
a continuous stream of bottoms is dropping out of our real estate

booms, and that it is a great big mistake to assess our new and fragile

values at anything approaching their face. And in my mind's eye, I

can see right now one of those ancient and beloved heroes, recently

companion to the immortal Davy Crockett, the tails of his coonskin cap

fluttering in the wind, addressing an indignation meeting in the days

of the First Congress, arousing unlimited enthusiasm with the very

same argument which is now so commonly used, founded upon the newness,

three-quarters of a century ago, of this country of ours, which some of

us profess to believe has not yet grown sufficiently old to tell the

truth for purposes of taxation.

The statutes of Texas have always been "full rendition" statutes, and

our Constitutions, except for that one which was adopted in 1836,

have always been "full rendition" Constitutions. And, in my judgment,

there can be no honest attempt at a fair adjustment of the burdens of a

direct tax upon the general property of this or any other country which

does not make a decent effort at an equalization in proportion to the

true value of each article which is taxed. The true value of an article

is necessarily its fair, full value, nothing more and nothing less. If

we levy general property taxes, we are compelled to require by law that

all property subject to the levy shall be taxed in proportion to its

value, and such a rule is inevitably a law for a "full rendition."

503
If a government were to command that its taxables should be listed at

one-fourth their full value, and that a tax of $1 on the $100 should

be levied on the values so listed, it would in substance have enacted

a law for the taxation of its property, at full value, at 25 cents on

each $100, and no amount of figuring can make out of it anything less

or anything more.

The proposition that property shall be taxed at one-fourth, or at

one-fifth, or at any other fractional part of its true and full value

is wholly inadequate to meet any of the objections which are urged

against the "full rendition" bill. If a tract of land be assessed at

$100 an acre at its full value, January 1, 1908, and by reason of any

change in conditions, the value has diminished before the arrival of

the tax-paying season, say December 31, 1908, to $50 an acre, and, if

it be assumed that it would be an injustice under those circumstances

to require the owner to pay a tax in December which is based upon such

a valuation, still the slightest reflection will convince you that this

injustice has not been obviated by assessing the land at $25 an acre

and, at the same time, multiplying the tax rate by four. In either case

precisely the same amount of money is exacted from the owner, and, in

either case, the tax is in truth based upon the full value January 1st,

which we have assumed to be $100 an acre, and no account is taken of

any subsequent depreciation.

504
But, if it be urged that the owner will be better satisfied to pay 25

cents an acre if his land be valued at $25 an acre than he will be to

pay the same 25 cents on the same acre upon a valuation of $100, then

I can only answer by saying that the Texans with whom I am acquainted

are so well fixed with brains that you can not fool them with a trick

so transparent as this. If a citizen pays a tax of $50 on a 200-acre

farm, he knows that he is out just $50 in good, common, hard cash, and

all the assessors and collectors in the State can not fool him into

the belief that he has paid only $40 by showing him how low his land

was assessed and how high it was taxed. Having paid his money, he will

feel neither better nor worse because of the valuation put upon his

property, provided only that he has had a square deal as compared with

the other taxpayers.

This is the whole of the tax question, as I see it--to deal justly

with every man in the sight of God--to tax every person as nearly as

possible in proportion to his ability to pay. And under any ad valorem

system the measure of the ability of each individual and the only

approximately fair measure which the ingenuity of man has ever been

able to devise is found in the reasonable, full value of the taxable

property of every owner.

No revenue law is wholly bad which tends in this direction and, on the

other hand, every such law is good and valuable in direct proportion as

505
it is so drawn that it will aid in bringing about this all-desirable

equality in the imposition of public burdens.

Granting that taxes are apportioned with reasonable fairness, there

is but one way whereby an impartial reduction can be had and the

benefits of such reduction distributed proportionately and honestly

among the taxpayers, and this way is by cutting down the expenses of

the government. Every other effort is either the pursuit of a ghost,

leaving the pursuer empty handed if he were to succeed in catching it,

or it is an effort at tax dodging. The average taxpayer is no shirk,

and the very best for which he can hope and the things for which he

should always be demanding are, first, an economical administration of

public affairs, and, second, the utmost fairness in the distribution of

public burdens.

The Constitution of Texas, as I have already shown, has always

commanded an equality in taxation, to be attained by levying upon

all property in proportion to its value. The laws of Texas have been

enacted in obedience to the constitutional mandate, as full rendition

laws, but have until the late session of the Thirtieth Legislature

failed in one respect, at least, for they provided no adequate means by

which they might be enforced. And under these laws, which on the face

required a fair assessment, but did not undertake to compel obedience

to their provisions, a practice of evasion was begun and spread all

506
over the State, until a condition prevailed which was anarchy, pure and

simple. County strove against county and neighbor against neighbor,

each one trying unjustly to shift some portion of his rightful burden

to the shoulders of another. It was a reign of lawlessness, gentlemen,

when, as some of you members have demonstrated, the average assessment

in one county was only 24 per cent. of the value of the property

assessed, while the average in another county was as much as 75 per

cent. And the remaining counties of the State ranged themselves

anywhere you please between these two extremes.

Equality in taxation was a thing dead and forgotten, and honorable

people were being taught to look with contempt upon the affidavits

which were required to be made before the assessors. A strong and manly

people who throughout their history had held the vice of lying in

peculiar detestation, were made accustomed to falsehoods, uttered for

profit, under the supposed sanction of an oath. A condition prevailed

which would in time have compelled the moral deterioration of all

citizens.

Now, it is certain that it is one of the most important of the

functions of government that it shall secure justice and fair dealing

as between all those who are subject to its jurisdiction. But more

than this, and more than all else, it is the duty of those who are

in control of public affairs that they shall permit no condition to

507
continue which threatens to undermine the moral character of its

people. For I venture the opinion that civilization is not builded of

capital and labor alone, but that its chief component parts are the

love of virtue and the sense of honor and the devotion to truth and

integrity which are in the hearts of all persons, and if these good

attributes are no longer actuated by these high ideals, then I predict

that mankind will have become from that moment forward incapable of

maintaining social order.

The practice of undervaluing property for purposes of taxation, which

had become common and almost universal in Texas, was destructive of

all possibility of justice as between the respective owners, and

had in addition thereto a distinct tendency to debase the morals of

an uncontaminated and virtuous people. The movement for what I will

venture to call purer and better laws did not begin in the Thirtieth

Legislature, but years and years ago, and the so-called Full Rendition

act of 1907 is merely a mile-stone in the forward march of a progress

which has continued throughout the ages, and which will never end.

The statute for the taxation of banks and banking capital is a "full

rendition" statute, designed to enable and to require assessors to

list at full value the stocks or properly of such institutions and all

funds employed in that particular business. The act for the taxation

of the intangible assets of railroads, an act which I had the pleasure

508
of assisting to pass in the Twenty-ninth Legislature, is another "full

rendition" law, under the operations of which nearly $174,000,000 of

additional railroad values is exposed to view and listed and taxed.

These and other statutes of the same kind, which I have not the time

to mention, are just and fair, if all other property is also assessed

approximately at its value, but they become discriminatory and

oppressive as soon as undervaluations of other taxables are purposely

allowed.

I am fully aware that there are certain vices which appear to be

necessarily inherent in any system that can be devised for the direct

taxation of both real and personal property. And while I am not

inclined to believe that these vices render this character of tax more

difficult of fair apportionment than is any other, yet I would not

for a moment attempt to render blind either myself or you to those

imperfections and weaknesses of human nature which make it apparently

impossible entirely to effect the purpose of any law, no matter how

just or wise it may be. But I would remind you that we can not give

ground in the face of this argument without abandoning all effort at an

orderly rule of society and plunging headlong into the deadly chaos of

anarchy. If our inability, entirely and in all cases, to enforce a full

rendition law is just cause for the abandonment of the full rendition

principle, then, in the same way and for the same reason, we shall be

driven from any other plan that we may adopt. Indeed, if we once admit

509
the force of this objection, we must abandon all law, for in no case

are we able satisfactorily to enforce any statute which is upon our

books.

Remember, gentlemen, I make no pretense that perfection has been

attained in the act of the Thirtieth Legislature, or that the act

is incapable of improvement. What I am contending is that it is a

step forward, and that this body, standing as it does for the ideal

aspirations of the business men of Texas, must take no step backward.

To repeal this statute, setting up nothing better in its place,

retreating to a condition of which you, as thoughtful and patriotic

citizens, must have been sick at heart, may bring us to have "fewer

laws," but I am not able to persuade myself that those laws which are

left will thereby have become any the better.

In my judgment, _ex parte_ affidavits, which have the effect of making

the truth cost money and of rewarding falsehood as if it were a virtue

and not a vice, ought not to be exacted in any but the rarest of cases,

and only where no other source of information can reasonably be found.

And, for this reason, I have long preferred that the visible property

of the State should be valued and assessed by the assessor rather than

by the owner. But I am greatly in the minority in my opinion of this

subject, and because that opinion is of absolutely no consequence, I

refrain from enlarging upon it.

510
Proceeding, then, along the only road which is open for travel, and

assuming that each owner shall continue to fix the _prima facie_ value

of his own assets, it can not be successfully denied that the interests

of society demand that such valuation shall be made under oath, and

that the value stated in every affidavit shall be the true, full value

and not an arbitrary, assumed and fictitious proportion of the same.

The "full rendition" law, considered in connection with other statutes

in force upon the same subject, provides an admirable system of

local equalization, and tends in a very considerable degree toward

equalization throughout the limits of Texas.

But this is a State of vast areas and of prodigious distances, and in

any such widely extended territory it seems to me that the physical

conditions alone are sufficient to demand the enactment into law of

some method of apportionment which will not depend entirely upon

local views and local sentiments. It must be kept in mind that, while

the Attorney-General may sue to remove from office any assessor or

member of a board of equalization whom he believes to be guilty of

intentionally accepting undervaluations, yet, convictions for such

offenses are always difficult to secure and the prosecution of the

vast majority of such cases would be no better than a farce. The

State government is practically without power to compel reasonable

511
assessments in any county or section where the citizens are largely

opposed to full rendition. The administration has no legal authority

which it can effectually use, but must confine itself to moral suasion

alone, and in controversies where interested parties are arrayed upon

opposite sides, we, as a people, have never regarded moral suasion and

merely moral responsibilities as a sufficiently effective force to be

worthy of serious mention. We will not permit a judge to hear a case in

court, or a juror to sit on a jury where either the plaintiff or the

defendant is related to him within the third degree, either by blood

or marriage. Arbitrators must be without interest and not related to

the parties, and, in general, wherever an act is authorized which may

affect the rights of others, the law is vigilant in requiring that

the officer or person acting shall be disinterested and impartial.

Everyone will agree that these precautions against injustice are right

and necessary, and yet I can conceive of no good reason why interested

parties or their relatives may not be permitted to adjudge any other

disputed claims quite as well, and with just as large a probability

that justice will be done as when they were asked to determine what

amount of State taxes they will pay.

A compulsory equalization of some character seems to me the next step

to be taken in the forward march toward fairer taxation in Texas. We

have come a long way from that original plan of 1837, by which an

assessor and two neighbors arbitrarily determined what a property

512
owner should pay, but we are still very far from home. Nor should this

occasion surprise, for if the law is to be worthy of respect, if it

is to be in any way effective as a force for the right, it must not

be fixed and unchangeable, but, on the contrary, must be capable of

infinite variety and infinite development, growing with the growth

of the people who are its creators and enforcers, eternal in seeking

justice, but flexible in adapting itself to the present.

In conclusion, gentlemen, permit me to call to your attention very

briefly a few of the effects of the new tax laws. For if we are to

return, as at least one candidate for high office is insisting, to the

old order of things, we are abandoning not merely the so-called Full

Rendition law, but all other of the recent enactments upon the same

subject. We are to abandon the intangible tax law, the franchise tax

law, the law taxing the gross receipts of certain corporations, and all

other of the statutes of the Twenty-ninth and Thirtieth Legislatures by

which a fairer adjustment of the burdens of government was sought to be

secured. And if we abandon these laws we must abandon their undeniable

benefits as well as their doubtful disadvantages, and pay taxes as we

paid them in the good old times.

Now, in 1906, when these laws were either tied up in court or not yet

in force, the property owners of Texas were called upon to pay a total

ad valorem tax for the expense of the State government of $2,443,637,

513
but in 1907 the ad valorem tax for State expenses was reduced to

$2,044,566. The operation of the new tax laws reduced the burdens put

upon property owners by $400,000, and of the amount which property was

still required to pay, something near $214,000 was levied upon railroad

intangibles. The saving upon the general property, aside from railroad

and corporation taxes, was $614,000 for that single year, for State

expenses alone. In the same way, the saving for the year 1908 will not

be less than $900,000 on State expenses, not including the school fund.

It can not be successfully denied that the new tax laws have tended

largely toward an equitable distribution of tax burdens and that

in doing this they have diminished the amount paid by the average

citizen. The intangible assets tax alone brought in a revenue for

1907 of $1,470,000 to the State and its counties, and cost for its

administration the insignificant sum of $2,650, a result which can not

be surpassed in the history of governmental finance.

These are the triumphs which we are asked to abandon by returning to

that system where "the assessors under the commissioners courts made

the assessments as under former laws."

Now, gentlemen, I for one am not disposed to retreat. I am intending to

go forward, not backward. And in the course which I am determined to

pursue I am expecting to go arm in arm in the company of the most of

514
those who are here to-day as the representatives of commercial Texas.

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