Chapters 51
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1 00 - Forward: A letter from Theodore Roosevelt 1:38
Forward of Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A story of frontier reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Lurie Wilson. Captain Bill McDonnell, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform, by Albert Bigelow Payne. Forward. A letter from Theodore Roosevelt to Captain MacDonald. 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, sincerely yours, Theodore Roosevelt. End of Preface
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2 01 - Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger 4:23
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Larry Wilson. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. Introducing Captain Bill. Captain Bill MacDonald 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 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-around 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 prevail, and you have in full Captain William Jesse MacDonald, 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 Panhandle, 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 it 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 handcuffed, the living ones, of course. It is the story of a man who, according to Major Bloxham, 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.
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3 02 - An Old-Time Mississippi Childhood 10:00
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 MacDonald, September 28, 1852. His father, Enoch MacDonald, was the planter of the feudal type, fearless, fond of the chase, the owner of wide acres and half a hundred slaves, while his grandfather, of the clan MacDonald, 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 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 astrain. 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 MacDonald had. It was full of such things as the homecoming 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 Cheetah and the Mucklalusia Indians. Exciting shooting matches and horse races. Long fishing and swimming days with companions black and white. And the ever-recurring chase with the bloodhounds of some runaway slave. There was not much book schooling in a semi-barbaric childhood such as that. There was a schoolhouse, of course. which was used for a church and 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 Panhandle 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 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, if y'all don't come and unwind this here snake, I'll beat y'all to death and cut off your ears and skin you alive and give your caucus 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 MacDonald enlisted a company to defend the Southern cause. The little boy left behind was heartbroken. 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 finding his way in unfamiliar places, he made the journey with no great difficulty. Eating and sleeping were 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 Jez 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 century 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 MacDonald, 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 MacDonald was only a day or two behind Bill Jess, for her instinct told her where the boy had gone. They remained a few days in camp. And then bade their soldier goodbye. They never saw him again, for he was killed at the Battle of Corinth, October 3, 1862, charging of breastworks at the head of his regiment, his face to the enemy, as a soldier should die.
End of footnote.
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.
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4 03 - Emigration and Adventure 9:10
A STORY OF FRONTIER REFORM.
Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger, a story of frontier reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. Emigration and adventure. A boy at the head of a household. Meeting the devil and his wife. An 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 bloodhounds, and without any 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 today. 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 MacDonald fortune. Slaves and cotton were gone. Only a remnant of land, then worthless, remained. Eunice MacDonald, 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 MacDonald, now in his 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.
The 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 the lounge in the hallway. And was soon sound asleep. By and by his mother came along and wakened him. It's bedtime, 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 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, MacDonald 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 darkies say would keep off witches. There was a short way home by the graveyard, but I didn't take it. I kept by 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 schoolchildren, 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 it heavily and went devil hunting, however, without success.
In spite of this slight lapse, young MacDonald 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 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 MacDonald 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 rapped 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 attention paid to a young lady that got him into difficulties. The young lady was the sister of his schoolteacher, and the latter did not approve of anything resembling attachment between the two. One day the young Wu 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 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 tiptoeing 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 horsewhip offered no fresh inducements in that direction. He walked twenty miles to a sawmill 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 schoolhouse, for some reason or other, about this time and demolished it. Being raked out of the debris, undamaged in any particular. Perhaps this was vindication.
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5 04 - The Making of a Texan 12:49
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by John Brandon. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. The Making of a Texan. Reconstruction and Treason. Dave Culberson to the Rescue. 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 MacDonald, 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 Green, a relative of the McDonald's, was murdered by Negroes, who, being arrested, confessed the killing, stating that they had mistaken Green 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 carpetbag military law then prevailing, they would escape punishment. In later years, young MacDonald 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 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 The townspeople 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 Green in particular, resented this occupation. Charlie Green, 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 courthouse. It would have been proper to leave them alone, then to retire flushed with victory, as the books say, and satisfied. But Green could not rest. He persuaded Bill Jess to stay with him. And they rode up and down in front of the courthouse, occasionally taking a shot at the windows, to punctuate their challenge to warfare. Finally, Green decided that they could charge the courthouse 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 courthouse stairs, at last, with pistols cocked.
Green had one in each hand, and with them shoved open 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 door 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 MacDonald, 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 Green'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 Green were led into the courthouse For military 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. But there was nothing inspiring about this champion's appearance. Nothing about him except his generosity seemed worthwhile. He wore ill-fitting homespun 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 Culbertson, 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 today for protection, that only one verdict remained in the mines. of his hearers when he closed. Bill Jess was acquitted, but his relative, Charlie Green, was less fortunate. He remained in a northern prison several years before he was finally released. Dave Culbertson afterward represented his district in Congress, and the boy he defended eventually served the son, Charles A. Culbertson, then Governor, Now in 1909, United States Senator from Texas.
It is likely that this bit of experience with hot-headed lawlessness and the result thereof proved of immense value to young MacDonald. From that time forward, we find him a peacemaker, 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. Whenever 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 Soles 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 Batchelor'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 MacDonald made the acquaintance of 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's 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 MacDonald 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. It came to a sudden end one day when Hogg, who had been elected county attorney, with characteristic conscientiousness, prosecuted MacDonald and others for carrying concealed weapons. MacDonald's possession of such a weapon having been revealed through his aiding in the capture of a gang of boisterous disturbers of the peace. MacDonald 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, 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 worthwhile.
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6 05 - The Beginning of Reform 13:56
A story of frontier reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to Chapter Five. The Beginning of Reform. 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 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 sat upon and injured McDonald's prized pointer, there was trouble, active and immediate. MacDonald'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.
MacDonald 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 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 whiskey, went on the warpath, 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 today, 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 underway. In the timber lying adjacent to Mineola, some 300 tie cutters were encamped, supplying cross-ties for the INGN 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 Thai 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 away through with his pistol until he stood by Reeves' 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, All right, take him to his room if he's got one. I'll take care of this crowd. There was something in the businesslike 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 their handy, the officers began gathering them in, a dozen at a time. It was a genuine surprise party for the Thai 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 boxcar 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 Thai 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 gunproof. 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 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 worthwhile. 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 break, 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 shotgun, which he thought might be more useful in a man chased through a thick cane-brake swamp than his rifle.
Arriving at the suspected house, he told in the mildest manner a tale of wounded deer not far away. And borrowed a shotgun, as well as the information that the men and dogs of the place were in the breaks. He now began a careful still hunt for his game, and presently came full upon Jim Bean, who was on a horse with a shotgun, 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 breaks. 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 slow, toward thick hiding. The shotgun was a muzzleloader, 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 and disappeared in the direction from which they had come.
MacDonald now mounted his horse and started in pursuit of the wounded Jim Bean. He found where he had crossed the slope, and presently came to the Desperado's gun, which had been thrown away in his hurry. Bloodstains made the trail easy to follow. Soon a powder horn and then a pair of boots lay in the path of flight. MacDonald followed six miles to a cabin occupied by Negroes. Bean was not in the cabin, but barefoot prints led into the woods. The manhunter 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 sometime 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 and attempting an illegal arrest. MacDonald 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 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 MacDonald 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 noly prost 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 anymore, 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.
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7 06 - Into the Wilderness 7:21
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Into the Wilderness. 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-term credit could not pay. Bill MacDonald, 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 the new land. To drive cattle across the wild Texas prairies, twenty-five years ago, was an experience worthwhile. 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 form a trust of its vast areas, and make trespassers of the smaller men. MacDonald 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 themselves would be very highly regarded, especially where brands had been obliterated, or where a few strays mingled with the 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. Macdonald 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. MacDonald started to address the herder, when the man turned abruptly and started off. MacDonald 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. MacDonald, presently satisfied that his stray cattle were not with that portion of the drove, continued his search further along, and came up with a chuck-wagon where dinner was being prepared. Cowmen 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 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. Those darn sand lappers, East Texans, are getting too thick out here. McDonald set down his coffee. The darn 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. The herder still clutched the weapon which he was afraid to raise. The sand lapper stepped nearer to him, and, with a sudden movement, wrapped him smartly on the head with the heavy barrel of the six-shooter.
It 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 sandlapper 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 its missing cows had the right of way. Nancy Cochran Gergen, Gilbert, Arizona, January 8, 2022.
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8 07 - Commercial Ventures and Adventures 11:11
A story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform, by Albert Bigelow Payne, Commercial Ventures and Adventures. Bill MacDonald's method of collecting a bill, and his method of handling bad men. The inclination to commercial enterprise still survived. At the end of a year, MacDonald 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 Harold, 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 MacDonald, 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 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, 1 Melvin, dropped in and stated that he had called to settle the amount for his neighbor. He gave his own check for it, and MacDonald 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 a mistake. MacDonald 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 MacDonald 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. MacDonald, who had heard of their arrival, suddenly confronted Melvin, and delivered himself in whatever terms, an emphasis as he had on hand at the moment. Melvin withdrew, gathered his clans, and laid for MacDonald in a saloon, where the latter had to pass. Though previously warned of the ambush, MacDonald 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 $60 for carrying concealed weapons.
What really happened to Melvin is best told in Belgesse'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 courtroom, the prosecuting attorney asked MacDonald if he had a lawyer. "'No,' he said. "'I don't need anybody to defend me for knockin' that scoundrel over. "'I'll attend to my own case, whatever is necessary.' The attorney then stated the charge to the court. Bill just 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 foolin' 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 Hawley'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 Bell Holley's, Melvin and his warriors stepped out. Melvin wanted an explanation of my former 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 .45 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 wrap on the head with it, and knocked him through Bill Hawley'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 for Melvin, and made him pay Bill Hawley $5 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 just 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. Yes, sir, he said, quite meekly. MacDonald was discharged, and Melvin paid a fine as before noted. Following this incident came another, which solidified Bill MacDonald's reputation for nerve in Wichita Falls. Bill Hawley, the aforementioned, whose name in another part of the state had been Buck Hawley, 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 MacDonald when MacDonald said, "'Give me the key to the calaboose, and there 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 in 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 lock-up. Hawley 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 MacDonald's request. He made a fairly quiet citizen during the remainder of MacDonald's stay in Wichita Falls. Removing to Hardman County was the only thing that saved Bill MacDonald, 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 Panhandle, 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 without laws nor condone their offenses 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.
Hardman County was a tough locality in the early eighties. It had lately been organized, And the settlers were cowmen, 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 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 earmarks, were destroyed to avoid identification, and the meat was sold. Men who did these things were no real enough, 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 Panhandle, 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.
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9 08 - Reforming the Wilderness 16:07
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Capt. Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Reforming the Wilderness. The kind of men to be reformed. Early reforms in Kwanagh. Bad men meet their match. It was in 1885 that Bill MacDonald disposed of his lumber interests in Wichita Falls, and at Harold, 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 Kwanna now stands, and in the heart of what was then the Wilderness.
Somewhat previous to this, MacDonald, whose reputation as a man of nerve had traveled to Harold, was one night called upon by Ranger Lieutenant Sam Platt to assist in handling a gang of outlaws, known as the brookin band that infested the neighborhood. The Brookins had ridden into Harald, and were running things in pretty much their own way. Platt and MacDonald promptly bore down upon them, and a running fight ensued as the Brookins 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 MacDonald and a band of cutthroats, The end of which would be history.
It was soon after this first skirmish that MacDonald 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 moves from their captors.
It was further discovered that the brook and bend had a rendezvous in what was known as the Cedar Brakes, a stretch of rough country, densely covered with scrubby cedar, located about twelve miles to the south-westward. MacDonald naturally felt that it was again his move in the brook and game, but it did not seem expedient to stop the journey with his herd and undertake the move just then. So, biding his time, he pushed on, to his land on Wanderers 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 Gemelli, 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 date, that tired feeling which the bad men of Texas began to have when they heard the sound of Bill MacDonald'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 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 MacDonald 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 or another connected with the Cedar Brakes gang.
Bill Brookin, a notorious outlaw, was the head of the band, and his brother, Bood, was one of its chief members. The Brookins 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 Brookin 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 Brookins and a half-dozen of their followers suddenly dashed out of a roadside concealment and began firing. Turner was instantly killed, and Lazarus fell over the dashboard in a wild effort to get behind something.
The frightened horses, one of them wounded in the foot, Ran madly all the way back to town, with Lazarus still clinging to the whiffle-trees. 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 Broken Gang, and one Pat Woolforth, 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 MacDonald 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 Kwanna. Named for Chief Kwanna Parker, son of the historic Cynthia Ann Parker, had sprung up. It was a typical tough place, and certain bad men still at large came through to proclaim vengeance and to lay 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 Birken 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 MacDonald, and especially for Pat Wolfrith, who was getting good friends and neighbours into trouble. Davidson appeared presently on the streets of Kwanagh, flourishing his firearms, and making his boasts. MacDonald 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 halfway 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 a 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 MacDonald had his gun, and was marching him to the Captain's Office. Finally, he got himself appointed Deputy Sheriff of Wilbarker, and came triumphantly to Quannagh with his commission, which he believed would entitle him to carry arms. That suddenly, as usual, by MacDonald, and promptly disarmed, he flourished his commission. "'That's all right, Bill MacDonald, but I'm fixed for you this time. Give me back that gun,' MacDonald 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 full deputy, Bill MacDonald. He decided to wait until MacDonald 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 victims suddenly grew tired of the annoyance and opened fire. This was unexpected, and the gang retired for reorganization. Then some rangers, ported at 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 MacDonald returned, and the Rangers delivered Wolforth into his hands. "'What's the matter, Pat?' MacDonald 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 MacDonald 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 Dave Garnall, and he enlisted a big butcher named Williams to stir up the mess. The gang armed themselves with long butcher knives from Williams's 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 MacDonald, slightly bumped against him. Not wishing trouble, MacDonald 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 cowmen 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 MacDonald, in violent language and opprobrious names. Suddenly, MacDonald 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 MacDonald 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, searched those men for weapons. Search was made, and the long butcher knives intended for MacDonald came to light. A knife of the same kind was found on Williams. "'Now, get a doctor quick,' commanded MacDonald. "'That fellow looks like he's pretty badly hurt.' A doctor was found, and Williams was removed. MacDonald'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 MacDonald's Saloon, where a brother of Williams tended bar, and these were declaring war to the death.
MacDonald 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 Kwanagh 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. 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 Kwanagh, the Hyde came with it, and they would wake up Deputy Bill MacDonald 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 Bricks gang was doomed, he came to MacDonald and offered to guide him to the den of the Brookins. If MacDonald would cause to be dismissed, Certain indictments which had been lodged against him.
MacDonald consulted Sheriff Barker of Willbarger, 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.
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10 09 - Getting Even with the Brooken Gang 6:45
A Story of Frontier Reform.
Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger, a story of frontier reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Getting Even With the Brookin Gang The Brookins don't wait for callers. 127 years sentenced for an outlaw. The breaks 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. The water and the ground was so densely covered with scrubbed 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 Wilbarker in charge, the party including two rangers from Kwanagh.
On drawing near the locality, Barker proposed that all but two men should halt, several hundred yards from the stronghold, a dugout 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 MacDonald'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 dugout and go in. Deputy Bill was all excitement. There they are now, he said.
Let's go down there and get them. Again he was overruled. In a few minutes a number of men, issued from the dugout, 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 Brookins were getting away. Of course they're getting away, said MacDonald. Do you suppose they're 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 dugout, they were rejoiced to find Sheriff Alley's horse, so something was accomplished, though the expedition as a whole had failed, threw over caution.
MacDonald 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 Indian Territory and no-man's land, where a man like him was sorely needed. MacDonald went down without delay and reported at Knight's office.
"'I've heard about you and your work up in Hardiman,' said Captain Knight." And I want you for a deputy. But first, tell me, what are your politics?" MacDonald did not hesitate. Knight was a Republican. Captain Knight, he said, I am the damnedest, hell-roarerest, all-firedest 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 seemed 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 Hardiman County and that of Special Ranger, he was qualified to undertake at any time any sort of a manhunt in any territory likely to invite his services. He went after the Brookin gang forthwith. But 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 Bude Brooken at last and got him sentenced for five years. Bill Brooken himself escaped to Mexico, was captured there, brought back, and sentenced for 127 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.
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11 10 - New Tactics in No-Man's Land 11:57
Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform, by Albert Bigelow Payne. Chapter 10. New Tactics in No Man's Land. Something which resembled a sense of security began to manifest itself in Hardiman 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 Panhandle, in the Cherokee Strip, and in the fastnesses of no-man's land. From these strongholds 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 break 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 that was set down on the map as 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 built their dugouts or cabins, established their households, and herded their stolen stock.
Some of the cattle they butchered, peddling the meat in Kansas or the Panhandle. 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 whiskey and tobacco taken away from him and was booted back across the border. It had been demonstrated that Bill MacDonald 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 Brookins and other established dealers of the range had been evicted from Hardiman and adjoining counties, it fell to Bill MacDonald to begin the No Man's Land crusade. He was working over in the Panhandle 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 land, and he knew that he was bound at last for that lawless locality where U.S. deputy marshals were favored 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 buckboard in which to bring home his catch. It was still 75 miles to the No Man's Land line, but buckboards were few in the Panhandle in those days, and this was likely to be the last chance to get one. It is possible that Turkey Track Ranch said goodbye to that buckboard when he drove away, for, well, they had heard of Bill McDonald. They also knew of the usual fate of the U.S. Deputy Marshals who, with or without a buckboard, 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 borderline, 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 buckboard came to a halt and set out on foot to locate his game. As silently and cautiously as an Indian, he crept through the brush until he reached a place where peering through he located, some distance away on the riverbank, 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. MacDonald 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 buckboard now, got in, and drove up leisurely to the outlaw camp. Looking as inoffensive and guileless as any other fly with a horse and buckboard, driving straight into the spider's den. "'Good morning, boys,' he said pleasantly. "'Y'all look mighty comfortable with that fire going. I lost my way and laid out last night. Maybe y'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 closer to the man he wanted. The deputy wore a short overcoat, and he had a pair of handcuffs 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 handcuffs 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 MacDonald, 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 MacDonald. "'Yes.' He said. What does this mean? Who are you, and what are you 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'm 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're gonna put that fellow in jail? That's what I'm gonna do. 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. "'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 in the tone of 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. The men faced about, their hands still high above their heads. With one six-shooter still on them, MacDonald 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 buckboard. 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. 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 in 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 fellas 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 gonna clear your damn thieves out of this country.
I'm gonna 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 buckboard, taking his prisoner next morning to jail.
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12 11 - Redeeming No-Man's Land 14:19
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Redeeming No Man's Land. Bill MacDonald 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 MacDonald 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 MacDonald was the man for the job. MacDonald, on his part, was ready for the undertaking, it being of a sort 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-lawed Burson of Henrietta, a quiet, athletic fellow with plenty of grit and endurance. I could always rely upon Lon, MacDonald 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 MacDonald, 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. MacDonald 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 a man who is not afraid of him and does not hesitate. 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-coming. 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 has always cowered. 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'. MacDonald and Berson 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 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 400 yards away, and made for the house, MacDonald 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 wore down on them. "'Go round the house, Lon, and come in from behind.
I'll tend to them on this side,' said MacDonald 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 them and put up your hands, commanded MacDonald. His own gun and Bursons levelled. 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 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. MacDonald kept them in cover now, while Burson secured their weapons, then handcuffed 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.
MacDonald, 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 mighty 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 everyone of your kind up in here is going to find it out. 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 MacDonald 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 MacDonald got the word from Senator Houston, he immediately sent over for Lawn Berson, and then proceeded to Canadian Hemhill County, where Houston lived. Here they learned more fully what work 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 MacDonald of Berson, accompanied by the sheriff as a guide, drove through the gray of early morning to the line which divided Hensford 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 MacDonald. "'We need you to identify the men.' But the officer said, "'Know 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 MacDonald.
"'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 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. MacDonald and Burson, therefore, set out in the light buggy. Driving leisurely across the innervating 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. MacDonald 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 handcuff and shackle the five captured men and march 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 MacDonald decided to send Burson to Hansford with the heckload, 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 MacDonald 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-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 MacDonald 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 lawbreakers, 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.
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13 12 - Some of the Difficulties of Reform 12:24
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. Some of the Difficulties of Reform. Frontier law and practice caught in a norther in no man's land. 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 handcuffed 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 MacDonald's career was not to be always like that. There was to be shooting enough, and bloodletting 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 lawbreakers, others were honest enough, but afraid of them. But there were 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. MacDonald had heard of a cow-thieve 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 worthwhile to take a single prisoner to Wichita Falls.
McDonnell'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 MacDonald 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 MacDonald'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, 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.' MacDonald 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.' and maybe 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 easy as possible. and save expense. Oh, well, anyway 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 pled 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 MacDonald and Lon Berson, 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. MacDonald and Burson realized this, and, however severe the conditions of weather and weariness faced them, rather than 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, riving 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.
MacDonald 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 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 MacDonald and Lon Berson 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 handcuffs, 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 damned 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, continue their old business at the new stand. These we shall meet again presently, for if they had said good-bye to Bill MacDonald, he had not said good-bye to them. It would require new tactics to deal with the new conditions, to identify the outlaw in the pretended agriculturalist, and to get evidence for his convictions.
It would require the development of another talent in Bill MacDonald's make-up, and that talent was ready for cultivation, as we shall see.
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14 13 - Captain Bill as a Tree-Man 17:11
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Paul Rothenberg. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Chapter 13. 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 Wanderers 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 a special delight in watching for the time when Deputy Bill was absent and then descending on his herds, mainly for the booty, no 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 Hardman 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 Cattlemen'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 $150, which with his numerous fees made his income an ample one, often as large as $500 a month, sometimes double this amount. Among the members of the association was Sam Lazarus, who was with Bill Turner when he was shot by the Brookings, 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 Woolforth, whose name may also be recalled in connection with the Brookings, was in charge of this herd, and when just beyond the 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 Woolforth and his men found it impossible to control them. A general stampede followed, and Lazarus' cattle were scattered over the prairies and through the fastness 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 roundup 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 MacDonald took no such view of the situation. With Pat Woolforth, 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 no wise 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. MacDonald began, by prevailing upon the honest ranchmen in that section, to join at once in a general roundup, 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' cattle were recovered, though not always without disputes and a display of firearms, especially where the brands had been grown over by the long winter coats of hair.
Such cases were settled first and tried afterward. In other words, MacDonald and Woolforth 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 pocketknife, 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 roundup was over, the cow hunters took up the search in other directions. It mattered little to McDonald and Wolfworth 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 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 MacDonald 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 backcountry 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 Cimarron, 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 whose occupation was itself an infringement on the law. Did they raise anything there, Bill? MacDonald was asked in discussing the conditions long afterward. Just raised hell. The old ranger answered dryly. 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 uninterested month it was, when an MK&T, or Santa Fe, Bill McDonald decided to break up this sort of thing, and set about 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 worthwhile working at haphazard and bothering men whose only offense might be that of squatting.
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 Kwanna and Wanderers 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 book fruit tree salesmen always carry. Then dressed as unlike an officer, or a cowman, 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. It was a pleasant excursion enough. No fruit tree man had been through that section before. None ever had dared, or perhaps thought it worthwhile, to go. MacDonald'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 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 these 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 dugouts 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 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. The number and character of crimes he confessed to having been accused of in the States would be worth recording in this history if they could be remembered now, but alas. Like other gay baubles, 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 dugout. 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 leads foe- The pain hoss, with the old tenderfoot saddle and saddlebags.
The other, a very good-looking animal, often saddled and bridled for prompt use. Buy gum, nods the big burly individual, staring at a picture of such peaches as grown only in paradise. Eating peaches like them would be like holding up the Santa Fe Express. That's what, assents the salesman gaily. Regular picnic all the time. I suppose 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. Nah, two can do it, and there ain't no need for more than three. One to take care of the engineer, another to pull down on the passengers, and the other man to go through them. It's plumb easy. They give up like sinners at a camp meeting, 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 them. 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 hunting trouble and he'll find it some day, good and plenty. When I put a job through, ain't nobody gonna get killed unless they commit regular suicide.
You ought to come down here and go in with me. You got a persuading way about you that would make a man give up anything he had, and thank you for taking it. It ought to pay you better than riding a paint hoss over the country, peddling trees. That reminds me. You can give me six of them peaches, and a few of them pears and plums, and a couple of cherry trees, and some grapevines, the big yeller ones. Niggerines, I think you said they was. And this was the drift of more than one conversation between the Cherokee agriculturalists and the genial tree man who certainly did have a persuading 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 pain hoss could ever make trouble in that wilderness of lawless living and of desperate men.
So for several weeks, the tree man on his pain horse with his old tenderfoot saddle and his picture book loitered up through the strip and 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 campus at Guthrie, a busy frontier point on the Santa Fe, which Twenty-five hundred dollars worth of orders for trees. Trees which might be bearing to this day if the spring deliveries had been made as planned.
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15 14 - The Day for "Deliveries" 16:20
A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. 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 cooperation 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 MacDonald had not yet penetrated into darkest Oklahoma. Then, when he had looked over Bill Jess's credentials, and perhaps felt his pulse, he said, 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. MacDonald went about the town trying to enlist volunteers. He realized that 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 the first train.
Walker came, and McDonald explained the situation. I've got these men located, and warrants for their arrest, he said, and now I can't get your deputies or anyone else to give me a hand on the job. It ain't just the sort of thing I want to do alone, for we ought to get several of these men's houses simultaneous-like. and 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 possemen. 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. MacDonald looked them over scornfully. Then he turned to Walker. If I had as sorry a lot of men as that, he said, I discharged them on the spot. I'll go out there alone, and 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. McDonald, however, was not the sort of 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 be allowed to remain out of range.
If you ever get him to the hack and tied, I'll haul him, 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 dugout 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. MacDonald lost no time, therefore, for a whinny of the horses might rouse the occupants of the dugout, 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 someone behind her. In the dimness of the place, MacDonald 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 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 on the bed. MacDonald stepped forward, and slipping handcuffs 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. MacDonald 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 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. Gunfire 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 handcuffed together and marched to the hack. The driver by this time had picked up a good deal of courage and remained only a few 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 handcuffed 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 frostbit. They'll be all right in the spring. My apple's got a little case of dry rock, too. I wonder how Buck Dillon'll like them blue plums a-hissin.' MacDonald, 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. 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 the 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 had only 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 was 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 buying? 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 have struck a stone and glanced a little, commented Bill Jess as he looked at it. I aim to make them miss just about three inches.
They sing nicer when they don't really hit. That either glanced off a stone, or else it's mighty sorry shooting. Dad slap it, that sorter makes me ashamed of myself. Oh well. Get in and 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, 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 MacDonald 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 dryly, "'you fellows are a little too slow.
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16 15 - Cleaning Up the Strip 19:25
Capt. Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. 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 Hennessy 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 the time, had a lease on the Cherokee grazing lands, for which they paid an annual rental of $100,000.
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 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 earmarks. MacDonald 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 away 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. MacDonald and his associate, satisfied that these were the men wanted, set out up the hill briskly. Their companion discouraged this 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 hilltop. MacDonald now started running straight up the hill, while his brother deputy set out in sort of a 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, Mac, they're right over the hill. They'll get you sure.'" MacDonald 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 skyline. Instead, he saw the other men running for Tex's dugout, and noticed that still another fellow was already there, pacing about, like a picket with a gun. MacDonald 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 MacDonald to stop, swearing they would kill him.
If he came any further, a brave man is not necessarily a rash man, and to establish bravery 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. MacDonald 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 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. 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 just said quaintly. "'On that hill. I haven't got a rope on him. I couldn't bring him along unless he'd come. Y'all are acting mighty sorry the way you're doing.'" 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 came fixed for such fellows as you. Come, let's see what you can do. MacDonald waved his hand as if signaling to his companion half a mile in the rear, and made a start toward the log fork. 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. MacDonald 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 Hennessy. 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 to delay no further in putting them out of their business. He enlisted a man whom he knew, one Charlie Myers, 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 parlaying this time. MacDonald 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.
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 Hennessy at the time MacDonald was selling trees in that section.
It was while MacDonald 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. MacDonald 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 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 desperados supposed to be invincible. We have seen that he could do these things with thoroughness and dispatch, 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 MacDonald 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.
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 MacDonald 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 deafness and exactness of motion, the result of a natural ability combined with long practice. Bill MacDonald 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 oftentimes 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 Bellevue in Clay County. Unable to go himself, he sent his sergeant J. L. Sullivan, his nephew, W. J. McCauley, and 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 Macaulay, 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 MacDonald'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, now made his famous remark, Well, this is a hell of a court for a man to plead guilty in.
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17 16 - Texas Ranger Service and Its Origin 13:45
A story of frontier reform. 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.
The early history of Texas was written in blood and fire. Her counties preserved 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 Tehuacanoh Indians during a raid on what was known as 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. 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 Tehuacano 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 today still suggests something of a 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 400 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 camp, where he was at once set upon and literally chopped to pieces by the savages, who then with wild yells and blood-curdling whirlwoops 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 Reverend 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 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. They then tied a rope around its neck and threw its naked body into the hedges of a prickly pear, from which they would jerk it fiercely with demoniacal yells. Finally they fastened the rope to its neck into the pommel of a saddle and rode around. 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, today 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 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, Grecers, often consorted in the work desperate and bloody, continued along the ever-widening and westering frontier, up to within a period easily remembered today 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 Hayes, James and Rezen Bowie, Bigfoot Wallace, Kit Ackland, Tom Green, Mustang Gray, of whom the song says, at the age of sixteen he joined that jolly band and marched from San Antonio out to the Rio Grande. 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. Soule, 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 furnished us with carbines, cartridges, provisions, etc., and we got $50 a month. It will be seen from the foregoing how different the ranger's 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 firearms, But must be men of good character and high, firm principle as well. It is the moral qualification, more than any other, that is 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 defensive 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. Speaking further of Ranger equipment, Sowell says, in the first place he wants a good horse. Strong saddle, double girded, a good carving, This was before the day of Winchester's. Pistol and plenty of ammunition. He generally wears rough clothing, either a buckskin or strong, durable cloth, and a broad-brimmed hat of the Mexican style, thick overshirt, top boots 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 today. 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 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's 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, could not afford adequate protection.
Including the meanderings of 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 borderline would be the rendezvous. For criminals, nearly every description in class. General Gnabry then sets down the fact that the ranger service has increased the state revenues by something like $400,000 for the year, through the protection of least frontier state lands which otherwise could not be inhabited, and would yield no return, 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 bans from being established along this borderline.
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 the persistency of the sleuth hound, until the criminal is either run out of the country, captured, or killed. 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 seams 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.
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18 17 - Captain of Company B, Ranger Force 12:53
A story of frontier reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org.
Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A story of frontier reform by Albert Bigelow Payne.
Chapter 17. 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 MacDonald 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, MacDonald was on the way from Connor to Fort Worth, when, at a switch now known as Iowa Park, they met a special, standing on a side track, 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 MacDonald 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 desperados 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. MacDonald asked if they would like his assistance.
And being assured that they would, sent word back to his wife by the conductor of the downed train that he was going to catch some bad men, and boarding the special, already impatient to start, took the back track towards Burke, a small station where the outlaws had been seen. When they reached there, it was MacDonald's wish to procure horses and begin the search at that point, but the sheriff and his posse thought better to proceed to Harold, some twenty miles further along. 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 Harold 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 back to Burke. Here the officials separated, the sheriff directing MacDonald 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 MacDonald 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 nearby, 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 were scattering out as if they were deer hunting, taking stands at various distant and semi-distant points, evidently expecting MacDonald and his companions to go in and start up the game. MacDonald 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 favour of charging straight in on them.
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 Gamble. Without a breath of hesitation, he leapt 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 sick shooter, and though commanded not to touch it upon a 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.
MacDonald 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 MacDonald'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. 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, MacDonald 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 Mr.
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, Bull? What can I do for you? Why, said MacDonald, I came down 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 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 them if you want them. I've been working mostly in no man's land and the territory lately, but I've done work in Texas too, and I can get about any kind of endorsement you want.
Hog laughed. He had a robust sense of humour. By Gatlins, he said, using his favourite expression. That's alright, Bill. You have already got the best endorsement I ever saw. MacDonald 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. Look over these, he said. You probably know some of the writers. MacDonald 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 MacDonald, 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 said citizen in jail or in boxcars, declaring further that he sometimes hitched them to posts with chains and that he was a menace to legitimate settlement and society in general.
MacDonald looked over some of these documents and grinned. That's so, Jim, he said. I do put them in boxcars when they enter jail. The way I used to do back in Maniola, you recollect? When the jail was full? And I lariat them out with a chain and a post when they enter boxcar handy. But I don't reckon they're innocent. Hog nodded. By Gatlins, these endorsements are good enough for me, he said. They carry the flavour of conviction. I appoint you Ranger Captain on the strength of them.
MacDonald returned to Kwanau with his appointment as Captain of Company B, Frontier Battalion. The headquarters of the company were at Amarillo in the southern part of Potter County, near the Randall County Line. This was almost the exact center of the Panhandle, 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 consisted only eight members, all told. These were supposed to range over all that vast section known as the Panhandle, 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 take the initiative and predominate. In the Panhandle, 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 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. Britton 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 18 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 advanced 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 clamour of such an approach was likely to create an amazement which did not subside to the point of action before the time for escape had slipped by. Speaking of it afterwards, Captain MacDonald 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.
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19 18 - An Exciting Indian Campaign 6:42
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. An exciting Indian campaign. First service as Ranger Captain. Biggest Indian scare on record. It was in January, 1891, that Bill MacDonald 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 Hull County, near Salisbury. Captain MacDonald 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 MacDonald 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 at Salisbury ended his conversation with, "'Good-bye. 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 dugouts, some in haystacks, some in the tall grass. Here and there, as the train pulled in, MacDonald 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 camp-fire at night, as cowboys will, dancing and capering in the mad manner of young plainsmen whose ideas of amusement are elemental, 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 nearby, 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 that the Indians had broken out and were making a general raid on the Panhandle. 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 MacDonald's initiation as captain of Company B.
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20 19 - A Bit of Farming and Politics 8:29
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 MacDonald's 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. MacDonald 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 ploughed 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 Wanderers 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 Kwanagh reflected the steady agricultural increase, and what had been an antelope range when MacDonald 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 MacDonald herds opens a way here for recording an incident connected with the stocking of the Wanderers Creek range.
MacDonald and his wife had decided that they would raise goats as a sort of by-product and begin 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 breaks 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 today?' 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 of days ago, hunting for them in the brakes, and there ain't a goat to be found within forty miles. "'Din the goats,' said Captain Bill. "'I don't care much for goats anyhow.'" There had been about two hundred of them, and for several years afterwards, 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 Captain Bill'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 re-election, with Bill MacDonald 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. MacDonald 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 MacDonald promptly went 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 of 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 carshed 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 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 MacDonald 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.
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21 20 - Taming the Pan-handle 21:34
Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne.
Taming the Panhandle. The difference between cowboys and bad men and how Captain Bill made cow stealing unpopular. The Texas Panhandle is the 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 limited 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 prevailed lawlessness that prevails when worlds are new. Not so many years ago, the Panhandles was distinctly a world apart in 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 did not come very fast.
Indeed, there was still plenty of territory in the southward. The man was forced to be subdued, two or three tiers of counties, in fact, before the panhandle would be reached. So it was placed apart in isolated fertile land justifying the assertion of a tramp that he had lost $100,000 there in one year and not having cattle to eat up the grass. The cattle came in due time fighting back the Apache and Comanche, protected by rangers from Fort Griffin, accompanied by stockmen of every nation, cowboys of every grade, and criminals of every breed. That was a wild epic, chaotic, and pitiful, at a time of individuals' administration and untempered justice. It was also a time from... A mighty domain.
Ranches there were as big as some kingdoms. One of the XIT covered a good portion of the northern part of the Panhandle. Another, the Manador, spread itself into five counties. When settlement became thicker, there was a ranch houses not more than 25 to 30 miles apart.
Then there was a good 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 positions prevailed. Next to the cattle-raising, cattle-stealing was the chief industry. The cowboy proper was not concerned in such work. He was likely to be clean-handed, straightforward, and even if reckless, individual, honest according to his lights. True. Loyalty to his employer might render him a trifle indifferent as the branch that marks when strays mixed with the herd. But as an employer and not the cowboy who profited by such The cowboy was the retainer that would fight for his ranch and would die for it when circumstances seemed to require such a sacrifice.
And the increase of the ranch heard by any means of short actuarial raid and theft was a custom which bore no relation to this repute. 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 in a near settlement, drink up all the whiskey he could buy, and then, with the sex-shooter drawn, go carrying up and down the street, shooting in random directions, explaining, meantime, with noisy and repetitious adjectives that he was a bad man. A very bad man from very up the creek. On such inspired occasions, he would sometimes exclaim, Hide out, Lodo Ones! Dad's coming home drunk! After which, he would let go round of ammunition, and the inhabitants of that neighborhood, regardless of size, would proceed to hideout and admonished.
Sometimes the whole group of cowboys would engage in this pastime, whereupon the rest of the town disappeared and sat in cellars and flattened themselves under beds until the cyclone passed by. It was such a manner that the cowboy found relaxations and social joy. He was not a bad man in spite of the decoration. He was not really hunting for trouble and would be the last to kill without offense. Footnote. The Kansas City Journal recently printed in the following cowboy song with comments offering it a side light on cowboy life and character.
The Journal said, As they slowly rode round and round them, keeping watch. If cattle stampeded and were then bright together again, began moving in a circle, which the punchers called milling, and on all occasions a fear uneasiness among the stock. The boys sang to them, and it had a quieting effect. These knights' riders were perfect. The 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 was not hard to know the task that the cowboy confronted. It is something fine to think in such hours of danger the cattle could be crooned back to normal quiet.
Out of such occasion 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 in stars in the sky, I wondered if ever a cowboy would go that sweet. By and by. I wonder if a cowboy would go 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 posed 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 roundup, where the cowboys like cattle must stand, to be cut out by writers of judgment who are opposed and know every brand. To be cut out by the writers of judgment who opposed and know every brand. Perhaps there will be a stray cowboy, unbranded by anyone nigh, who will be cut by writers of judgment.
And shipped to the sweet by and by, who would be cut out by the writers of judgment, and shipped to the sweet by and by. In a footnote.
The truly bad man was of entirely different makeup, 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 murdered a cow thief, as a hero when he was only an assassin. Driven into a corner that he would fight, but his favorite method was to slay from ambush. It was seldom that his recklessness discarded for human life, including his own. The panhandle was full of bad men in the early 90s. Most of them had graduated from other schools of crime found here at last resort. Some of them, a good many of them, had obtained official positions and were outlaws and deputies by turns, all worked conjecturely 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 range of force consisting of eight men with quarters at Amaretto. Captain W.J. McDonald commanding to police this vast wilderness and to capture and convert or otherwise tame its Some of them would not wait to be captured. Some, of course, could not be tamed alive. Others, and these who were not a few, would be able to wield official influence through which they would escape conviction, regardless of the evidence.
Soon after McDonald's appointment, he was notified of a marauding band that a craft in Hutchinson County was 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, and cut out brands. In a word, they had conducted the business of cattle stealing and general depredation on a larger scale.
Taking a portion of his force, Captain McDonough 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 very good chance when it is operated upon a man with eyes like those of Captain Bill and with the nose and a pair of ears of his particular patron. In a short time, he had identified one member of the band and a young man prominently connected in that section. This young fellow, a dupe, no doubt, of professional cow thieves, was glittering reputation. As bad men had dazzled him, was the son of an able, reputable lawyer, a member of a state legislator. The son, supposed to be a cowboy, had become, in reality, an outlaw.
Captain MacDonald took him in charge one day, questioned him, and secured sufficient evidence to file a complaint. The prisoner was turned over to the Sheriff of Hutchinson County, and Captain Bill pursued his investigation. He located a bunch of stolen calves, herded in the breaks 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 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 huddled and necked. After locating the calves, Captain MacDonald 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 had 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 Hutchison County, and the settlers gathered from far and near for the event. The trial was held in a big barn of a courthouse, and the prisoners were bound over to the district court. The rangers were preparing to take them to Panhandle City. Where there were safer and more comedious quarters, when the sheriff, who had rightly 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 to more secure quarters than he seemed to be 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 these 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 anyone 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 right of habeas corpus, but it was not effected for the reason that the men that had committed underbond. And all events, it was not effected as 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 The property had suffered who seemed concerned in bringing these bandits to justice. With such overwhelming evidence, MacDonald 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 obey the law. Through influence of one kind or another and the cooperation 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 MacDonald's vigorous persecution was wholesome. The members of that band either left for the far isolation 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 earlier panhandle days. Sometimes, indeed, justice was even more openly and briskly sidetracked. 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 in his own hands, and administrated in a matter rather starting for unexpectedness and originality. He delivered an elaborate orientation, which no.
One in the courtroom, comprehended in any large degree, himself included, perhaps, and then read a lengthy decision concerning captors 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 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 He gave neither rest nor respite to those who broke the law in that field, or to those who warped and disfigured it in the courts.
Individually, in groups, he brought the bad men in and filled the jails with them. And the boxcars, and when neither was handy, he larinated 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 Colonel W.B. Kemp of San Antonio to Edward M. House, One of the best known citizens of Texas, the writer says, When he, Captain McDonald's, was captain of the Rangers in Texas and doing his most effective work, I was district attorney of the I was in the 35th Judicial District in the Panhandle, and I learned to love, respect, and admire this fierce officer who always placed duty before his own life.
Those days, the frontier of Texas, it was 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 MacDonald. History should hand down his name for the coming generations of the side of heroes of the animal and scent checked into.
Footnote. That Captain MacDonald and his little force had an entire supervision of the vast district is shown by a Justman General Mabey's report for the 1896.
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22 21 - The Battle with Matthews 17:28
What happened to a man who decided to kill Bill McDonald?
It was strange, indeed, that McDonald did not happen to get killed for those buzzy days of the early 90s. One of the favorite vows of tough panhandlers was to shoot Bill McDonald on sight. But the reader will remember that there was a suddenness in figure about Bill McDonald's manner and message that was very bad for a vow like when The moment for its execution arrived. Still, there were those who tried to make good, and one of those dewey assists came near being successful. He would have succeeded, no doubt, if he had had time. This man's name was John Pierce Matthews, who became simply John Pierce after its owner had got the drop in a steamboat captain one day in Louisiana and shot him dead.
He took a new name with him to the panhandle, where due time he got to drop on another man, somewhere up the northern tier of counties, with the same result. This was a good while before he came down to the Childress County and got to be sheriff, but there were those who had not forgotten, and among them was Captain Bill MacDonald. Then, stopping at Wichita Falls, Matthews, or Pierce, as it was called, frankly came down to the falls for speed and one made application to join the secret society. McDonalds was a prominent member of that society, and Matthews did not get in. This stirred an animosity of Matthews. He began to clean his six-shooter daily and to practice sudden and accurate firing.
When he knew it, he'd be necessary in case of a showdown. By and by, there was a sheriff's convention at Houston, and on the boat excruciation between Houston and Galveston, Matthews spoke disrespectfully to the Governor Hogg, who was on board. MacDonald, who was also present, promptly called Matthews to account, and a general settlement might have been reached then, and there had been well-meaning. But... Misguided friends of both parties not interfered and spout a very pretty sheriff's picnic newspaper story. As it was, Matthews kept awning his pistols and practicing, meantime enlisting the sympathy of friends in whom he confided that someday when he had a little leisure that he was going to look up Bill McDonald and kill him.
Suggesting that they be present and take a hand, they being 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 as a shot as short as possible on his accounts, absconded and set out for Indian territory. Matthews had no right to go outside of his own county after Matthews had no business in this matter in any way as he wanted Beckham only for a misdemeanor, whereas he was charged in his own county with a felony. But Matthews had an itch for Beckham in his own accounts, so he picked up another enemy of Beckham named Cook. A citizen of Motley, One came with an ambition for Beckham's office, and two came with a peaceful attitude and fair words to Quora, where Captain Bill was then stopping, requesting the loan of a ranger to go over the territory after the defaulting officer.
MacDonald refused, but said he would send a man as far as the territory line. Ranger authority, not extending... He did send one ranger, McClure, who, being strongly persuaded, overstepped in the same instant his authority and his state line. Captured Beckham, whom he lost, though, a right of habeas corpus, fell into a plot devised by Matthews and Cook to get rid of him, and was finally brought back to Quora by Captain Bill, who drove 100 miles to on a bad night to get him out of the mess, after which McClure was a wiser and better ranger. Beckham, meanwhile, had found victim to remorse or more likely to have promised immunity, and now hurried over to Quanah to give himself up again to Ranger McClure.
Captain Bill being absent from Quanah at the time, Beckham asked to be taken to Manador, county seat of Motley, for a 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 Manador, and they were set out by rail for Childress, at which point they would take a team for Monte County's seat. Matthews was on hand.
Matthews then started to organize a posse to take Beckenham. Word of this came to McClure, who promptly gave his prisoner a revolver, then told him to take the prisoner. Matthews and his crowd now tried to enlist the cooperation of Sheriff Cunningham of Abilene, who, as soon as he understood the situation, resigned from the Matthews forced an offer to assist the McClure congenit. McClure thanked him, but said he guessed he'd go along to Manador, now with his prisoner as his team was waiting. Captain Bill was in Manador when Ranger and prisoner arrived, and Beckingham was jailed without further difficulty. Cook got appointed sheriff by a commissioner's court. But the district judge refused to accept him and select 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 Coir, waiting for a train in Childress, Matthews appeared and demanded that MacDonald dismiss Ranger McClure on General charges connected with Beckham episode. MacDonald mildly but firmly refused and spoke his mind pretty freely in the subject, all which had filled the old resentment which Matthews nursed and nursed 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 through Kuala. Some day, and killed Bill McDonald, just as a matter of pastime. As he sent word to the same effect by any of Captain Bill's friends that he found it going that way. Perhaps he thought these messages of impending death would unnerve the Ranger Captain and interfere with his sleep. That was a bad judgment. Bill McDonald needed only the anteception of the little pistol practice like that to make him sleep like an angel. I didn't talk as loud as he did, nor as much, Captain Bale said afterward. I reckon I thought I was afraid of him. Matthews had really cut to work out for himself.
However, he had enlisted help for the occasion. He was satisfied with his target practice and condition of his firearms, and he had taken 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, providing the ranger happened to get a bead on him, so he had planned it against that too. It was in December 1895 at last that Matthews and his pals came down to Kornow 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 their job and explaining what they were going to do. Then they took the following.
McDonald, always in the group, evidently, waiting for 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 the matter of Captain Bill's warning. They dropped away for the time, and MacDonald gave the matter no further thought. Men threatening to kill him was an item in every day's program. It was near the dusk of that bleak day, and McDonough was on the railway station, setting an official telegram to his men in Armarero, when an old man named Crutcher, whom McDonough knew, came into 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 up... And fix everything right, repeated the old man persuasively. Captain Bill finished writing his telegram and sent it. Then turning to the old man Crutcher, he said in a 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 and decided to The sheriff of Hardin County, whose name was Dick Coffer, and Matthews and two of the latter's friends, coming to meet him. Sheriff Coffer was a step ahead of Matthews when they stood across the street. Old Man Crotcher, in a friendly way, put his arms through McDonald's as they advanced.
When they were about four or five feet between the groups, all stopped and there was a little silence. Then MacDonald said, Well? And Matthews answered, keeping Coffer to trifle in advance. Well, what is it, Bill? Captain Bill began quietly. I understand, he said, that you have been trying to say some pretty hard things about me, and that you are going to wipe the earth with me. Is that so? Matthews edged a trifle near Coffer. No, he said. I didn't say that. But by God, I'll tell you what I did say, and at the same moment pointing his left index fingers in McDonald's face, while his right hand slipped in the direction of his hip pocket. Captain Bill saw the movement, and his own hand dropped to the side of the overcoat pocket where the winter he carried part of his ornament.
Matthew's practice in drawing, for some reason, failed to benefit him. His gun seemed to hang a little on the scabbard. A second later, he had jerked it free, stepping behind Coffer, and fired at Captain Bill over a sheriff's right shoulder. But the slight hit spoiled his aim, perhaps for the bullet missed, passing through McDonald's overcoat, collar, through the range that was so short that the powder burned his face. The game could be now considered opium. Captain Bill, with a quick movement that was between a skip and a step, got around Coffin and let go two shots in quick succession at Matthews. But when Ladder's breastpiece was a success, both of MacDonald's boats struck within the space of a 50-cent piece.
Just above Matthews' heart penetrated a thick plug of the Star Navy, found a heavy notebook beyond it, and stopped. With the thought process which may be regarded as cool for such a moment, Captain Bill realized for some reason he could not kill Matthews by shooting him on that side and shift his aim. Matthews, meantime, had again dodged behind Koffer, who was now dropped flat on the ground where it was quieter. Captain Bill was bending forward at the time, trying to get a shot around Koffer, and as the ladder dropped, Matthews fired the bullet striking McDonnell on the left shoulder, raging down through his long and small of his back, traveling two-thirds the length of his body for lodgment.
The Ranger was knocked backward, but did not fall. Matthews quickly fired again, but McDonnell was near enough now to knock the gun aside with his own, and the barrel passed through his hat brim. Aiming at Matthew's other shoulder, MacDonald let go of his third shot, and Matthews fell. Meantime, the two deputy assassins had opened fire, and one of them had set two bullets through MacDonald's left arm. To these, he gave no attention till 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 windpipe to the left side. His fingers were paralyzed by this wound and made an effort to cock his gun with his teeth.
But there was no There was no further need for, with the collapse of Matthews and his co-motors, fled wildly to cover behind the depot, nearly upsetting the boxcar in their hurry, as the spectator remarked. Captain Bill walked a few steps to the sidewalk. There was a post there, and holding to this, he eased himself to a sitting position. A man ran up to him. Captain, how about it? Well, I think I'm a dead rabbit. They gathered him up and took him to the drugstore, and they took Matthews to a drugstore across the street. By and by, they carried Captain Bill home to the doctor who 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 slushing around in there.
The doctor obeyed orders. It was appropriate to gratify a dying man. Now, Doc, the Ranger Captain said when his operation was over and the surface cover had been removed, now I'll get well. And Ronda McDonald, his nervy wife, who had arrived on the scene, echoed this belief. If Bill just said he will get well, he will do it, she declared. But this was minority opinion, and the night when it was rumored that Captain Bill would not pull through, there were threats in the case he didn't. The two men who had trained with Matthews would... He said, I'm going to get well, even if I don't. I want the law to take its course, and I'm opposed to lynching. Matthews died in a few days. He was removed to the Childress and died there.
Before his death, He was sent word to MacDonald. "'You acted man-although,' was his message. "'I'm only sorry I can't see you and apologize.' "'Tell him I'm doing all right,' was the answer returned. "'And I hope that you'll get well.' The mending of Captain Bill was a slow process. For about two months he was laid up, and then, with his life, he sojourned for a time at a sanitarium. After that, he was once more pale and stooped over, but ready to eager for action. In time, he was apparently as fit as ever, though, in truth, the physical repairing was never quite complete. End of chapter. Chapter Twenty-One.
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23 22 - What Happened to Beckham 4:44
A Story of Frontier Reform. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. 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 MacDonald. 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, Ked Lewis, later hung. They established headquarters in a neighborhood thought to be comparatively safe, since Bill MacDonald'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 MacDonald, not yet able to undertake a hard chase, sent his nephew, Macaulay and 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 dugout, not far ahead. At the same moment they met an ostensible cowboy, a line rider, he said, on his rounds. The dugout, 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 dugout, 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 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 Macaulay and Harwell of the Ranger Force remained in action, the others having been driven by the cold and storm to find shelter. The dugout was silent enough now, but Macaulay and Harwell, nearly dead from exposure, were in no condition to charge it, alone. They were without horses, and set off for Wagner's Ranch twenty-five miles away, a foot. Red River lay between, and when they arrived there, the prospect of waiting that icy current was miserable enough. Nevertheless, they did it, arriving at Wagner'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 dugout. 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 out upon the floor, dead.
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24 23 - A Medal for Speed 4:42
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Capt. Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform, by Albert Bigelow Payne. A medal for speed. Captain Bill outruns a criminal and wins a gold medal. We are not through with the Panhandle, 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 MacDonald'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 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. 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 jeweller and others of Fort Worth. This decoration was engraved with Captain MacDonald'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.
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25 24 - Captain Bill in Mexico 12:26
A story of frontier reform.
Read by Bill Moseley, Llano County, Texas, USA. Captain Bill McDonnell, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. 24. 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. The First National Bank of Kwanha 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 MacDonald was detailed to bring him back across the line. Accompanied by one of the bank directors, MacDonald 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 Bell 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 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 MacDonald. "'They certainly will,' insisted his friend. "'The law here is to confine the witness with the prisoner.'" And there's no telling when you'll get out.
Captain Bill reconsidered, whirled his prisoner around, gave him an 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 Monty. 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 Monty. 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 to 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 serapi.
As if to free his arm for action. No longer in doubt as to what they meant to do, the captain brought out his .45 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 panhandle. It was his favorite and daily occupation. Before their guns were halfway to any effective position, he had them covered, and in tones that were universally understood.
Even when they convey words of strange meaning, he warned them to desist.
Men are in the habit of obeying Bill MacDonald 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 Guadaluola, 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 10 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, MacDonald 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 policeman 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. 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 to assist in the undertaking.' Diaz waxed enthusiastic over this idea.
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 nip 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 these targets as rapidly as you can, and see how many you'll miss,' he said, when they were inside." Without hesitation, MacDonald drew his revolver and opened a perfect fusillade. Hitting a target at each shot. Two Mexicans who were practicing 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 practicing a little to keep his hand in.
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26 25 - A New Style in the Pan-handle 8:38
A story of Frontier Reform.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A story of frontier reform.
Chapter XXV. A New Style in the Panhandle Charles A. Culberson Pays a Tribute to Ranger Marksmanship, Captain Bill in a Plug Hat. It was during the Panhandle period that Charles A. Culberson, son of the Dave Culberson who nearly thirty years before had cleared the boy, Bill Jess MacDonald, from a charge of treason, was Attorney General for the State of Texas. Captain Bill was at Kwanah 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 bodyguard, knowing him to be familiar with the district, and capable of taking care of such an expedition.
They left the railroad at Vernon, Wilbarker County, proceeded in a buckboard 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 nickel up in the air and hit it before it touched the ground.' MacDonald smiled in his quiet way. "'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 are no Indians. But I've got to, General. This is a pleasure trip, and that's business. Them devils are going to start something over there, and it's my duty as a 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. MacDonald 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 was 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 Kwanagh. But a few days later, when the attorney general had arrived in Austin, Captain Bill received a package by express, prepaid. On opening it, he was stupefied to find that it contained a plug hat of very fine quality.
It was the first silk hat in the panhandle, 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 Puanha 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 Kwanna who remained away from service on that memorable Sunday have never entirely recovered from their regret, for it was their only opportunity ever 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 lie, it exists to this hour.
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27 26 - Preventing a Prize-Fight 9:02
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by John Brandon. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Preventing a Prize Fight. The Fitzsimmons-Marr Fight that didn't come off at El Paso. And why? Captain Bill takes up for a Chinaman. Culberson became governor in the course of time, and remembering Captain Bill's peculiar talents was one to rely upon him for special work in any portion of the state, where nerve, determination, and prompt accurate marksmanship During February 1896, a national sporting event, a ring contest between Bob Fitzsimmons and Pete Marr, was advertised to take place at El Paso, a busy city drop-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 $10,000 to bring this event to the Paris of Texas. And these and their friends were filled with indignation. Dan Stewart, 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 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 of 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 bodyguard to each of the pugilists, while a third, Captain MacDonald, became a temporary associate of Dan Stewart.
They had nothing particular to do. These rangers, except to be companionable and pleasant, and to stay with their men. Wherever Stuart and Marr and 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 from Langtree, a point where the Southern Pacific Railway touches the Rio Grande. The state of Coila lay across the river, and Langtree itself was at that period a proper gateway to a pugilist 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, 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 in costs, for carrying a concealed weapon, and appropriated the forty-one dollars and the six-shoulders. 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 Langtree 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 MacDonald 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 caster. Captain Bill had been sitting quietly, saying nothing. But as Masterson raised the caster, the Ranger captain clutched his arm. 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 caster was put down. Masterson reflected silently while he waited for his food. Perhaps that was the beginning of his reform. Arriving at Langtree, Stewart, Fitzsimmons, and Marr The men of the United States 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 knockout, landed on Mars' jaw. But it did not take place on Texas soil.
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28 27 - The Wichita Falls Bank Robbery and Murder 21:31
Captain Bill MacDonald, A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne, The Wichita Falls Bank Robbery and Murder. The absence of Captain Bill and his rangers from the Panhandle 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 $600 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's 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 MacDonald, returning from the Fitzsimmons-Maher contest via Fort Worth, had got as far as Bellevue 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 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 pickmen, 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 headfirst 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 on the chase, but was able to furnish information. Captain Bill and his rangers learned where the robber's head 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, at a bend of the river, discovered the Clydesdale horses tied close to the bank. Their riders were believed to be close by, and the rangers expected to be fired on at any moment. Without waiting for any such reception, they charged to end 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 to the riverbank. 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 them, their guns in readiness, while he gave 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, MacDonald and his men waded that bitter current. Holding their firearms above their heads, their bodies literally numb with cold. It was a severe experience, but, as Captain Bill said afterwards, it removed a good deal of his mud. MacDonald 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 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, MacDonald, 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 waited. 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. MacDonald 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 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 wheat field 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 in that creek bottom over yonder. Well then, what in the devil are you all doing up here? Somebody answered, You must think we're damn fools that 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 written up. 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 Macaulay came up.
Right over there, Cap, they ran in the brush over by the 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. Suddenly, the captain found himself confronted by a creak, 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 laying 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. 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 MacDonald. "'I've got them.'" 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 at McDonald's 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 pretty quick, I'll duck you head first. You've made me wade water up to my neck all the afternoon. They crossed, then, the fifth time in the cold water that day for McDonald, and made their way to where he and Macaulay 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 mile away, listening for the sound of the shots that would probably bring down rangers. Come on, boys, he yelled. We've got them. So they came lickety-brindle, but presently stopped. Captain, are you sure you got him? Yes, I've got him, and I've got him 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 that 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.
He marched Lewis and Crawford over to Marr Boger's ranch, where they all got some hot coffee and something to eat. Boger also supplied a wagon in which to haul the prisoners. It was MacDonald's first intention to take the men to Henrietta for safekeeping. 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 Macaulay and Harwell discussed with him the fight that he and Hill Loftus and the others had made that night in the dugout 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 somehow got paralyzed. When the procession had arrived within a mile or two of the falls, Captain McDonald, realizing that someone 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,' he commanded, and the way opened. Lewis and Crawford were marched into the jail, Rangers Macaulay and Queen being left to guard the door. The prisoners were taken to cells. He carefully searched and locked in. Captain McDonald then descended to disperse the crowd, which had grown noisy and ugly in its demand 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 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 crap. 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 until morning.
Then a message was brought to him that Hill Loftus had been concerned in the robbery, and that he was hiding in a dugout near town. Knowing that Loftus and Lewis trained together, Captain MacDonald 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 the dugout.' 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 dugout some distance away in the edge of 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 town, he was met by his nephew, Henry McCauley, with 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.
"'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, 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 25 men to guard the jail. You mean you will appoint 25 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 25 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 Kwanagh, 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. 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 today, I'm about used up and likely to be sick. Now, if you can't take care of those prisoners with your guard, all right.
If you think you can't, I'll take them to Fort Worth where they'll be safe. But I'm going to get out of here tonight, unless you get an order from Governor Culberson for me to stay. It ain't far to the telegraph office. At only about 30 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 25 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 telephone 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. A reward of $2,000 for the capture of Lewis and Crawford was paid by the two banks of Wichita Falls. The local posse divided it into 32 equal parts, in which they generously permitted the rangers to share.
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29 28 - Captain Bill as a Peace-maker 9:37
Captain Bill as a Peacemaker. He attends certain strikes and riots alone, with satisfactory 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 panhandle became more trouble, more range broken, as one may say, Captain Bill McDonald and his little force were summoned to points 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. The doorkeeper came, but refused admission. "'I'm Captain MacDonald of the Rangers,' said MacDonald 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 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 them. And I don't think so now. But of course, if this thing goes on, I'll have to bring them. 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 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, MacDonald 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 a 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. 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 the 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 in 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 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. Man, 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 at this state. These walking delegates and leaders that are telling you to do these things are just a sorry lot of damn 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 captain to desist, warning him that there were desperate men there and that he would be killed.
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 on to anybody, jump on to 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 advisors had vanished overnight. Within a brief time, the men were nearly all back at work doing better than ever before. At other points, MacDonald 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. Where are the others? asked the disappointed mayor who met him at the depot.
Hell, ain't I enough, was the response. There's only one prize fight.
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30 29 - The Buzzard's Water-Hole Gang 33:18
Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. Chapter Twenty-Nine. The Buzzards Waterhole Gang. The murder society of San Saba and what happened to it after 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 43 within a period of 10 years. 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 Southwest 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 either 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 300, 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 Waterhole, 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. 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 three to five days to emigrate, this to be supplemented by a second committee. of one whose duty it would be to call the 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 accept the 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 Buzzards' waterhole roost and to discourage its practices in and around San Saba was the job cut out for Bill MacDonald and his rangers during the summer and fall of 1897. Captain MacDonald began the work by sending over three of his men, John Sullivan, Dud Barker, and Edgar Neal, 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 Sullivan 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 a 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 them, 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 trouble in San Saba was all about. By and by, he went to his hotel. It was about 10 o'clock, and he was sitting out 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 moves, said Captain Bill. The county will be rid of one damn rascal. It will be rid of more before I get through here. Captain Bill went to Austin himself after Sullivan. So that there 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 Sabo 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 settle 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 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 cold-blooded and desperate. A man named Brown, one of the society's early victims, had been hanged by that mob some 10 or 12 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 received a painful wound. Captain Bill secured information which convinced him that one Bill Ogle had been the chief instigator of 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 perform his work well that the sister was wounded. McDonald, in due course, uncovered the whole dastardly plot. The murderers now realized the 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 could warrant.
Ogle, the tiger of the society, as he was considered, MacDonald had not yet seen. For the reason that the Tiger did not live in the town, and for some cause, had lately avoided these 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 MacDonald, 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. 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. "'Goodbye,' 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 was 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 courthouse to a hardware store on the other side, where a number of 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's door. 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 his 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 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's 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 any of the men over there in that store that help 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 every one of you on the gallows or behind bars. And I'm going to begin with you. As Captain Bill talked, the sweat began to pour off Ogle and his knees seemed to weaken.
Presently, they could no longer support his 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 men over there who helped you kill Jim Brown.' And your greaser-looking 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 MacDonald would kill him. MacDonald, he said, having the reputation of being a killer and a bad man generally. 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 43 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 hands, said MacDonald. 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, You scoundrel, I suspect this 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 Macaulay, Barker, Neal, and Bell, members of his camp, To keep watch, and if Ogle attempted to leave the county to hold him until he, MacDonald, could arrive with the proper papers. These were obtained next morning about 10 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. The judge was attentive and took him to a quiet place. Now, Judge, said Captain Bill, you know that the buzzard Waterhill mob holds its meetings over there once a month, and the monthly meeting is about due. You know that they meet here 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 set 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. 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 D'A. The rangers did, however, visit the Buzzards' waterhole 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's signals, Captain Bill and his men went riding over the country from house to house, halting outside to say, 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 Buzzards Waterhole. Whereupon, as Captain Bill put it later, they liked to die, 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 25 miles away. But a 50- or 75-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 the charges against the rangers. MacDonald 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. 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 suppose I 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 Buzzards' waterhole 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 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 McCarthys 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 a 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 witnesses. 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, MacDonald found him just outside the door with others of his kind.
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.
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 Linden, it was decided to transfer Ogle's case to Lano County for final trial, Linden making his fight for this change on the grounds that no fair trial could be obtained in the San Saba Court. In Lano 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 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 Badlands were kept dusty with the emigration of men who had formerly gathered at Buzzard's Waterhole. 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 to 98 had not been altogether spent in chasing criminals. These eight had found wives, or rumors of wives, and 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 Ed Neal was elected sheriff. Ollie Perry was chosen constable. Dud Barker, Ed Donnelly, Forrest 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, May 21st, 08.
Captain W.J. MacDonald, Austin, Texas. Dear Sir, 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 for being in opposition to my release was that you had fears of your own life, should I be pardoned. Captain MacDonald, 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 I 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 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 therefore secure your liberty. You know I am not in the ranger's service now, and it makes no difference to me who was 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 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. MacDonald. 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 those other fellows ought to be where Bill is now.
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31 30 - Quieting a Texas Feud 10:55
Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform, by Albert Bigelow Payne. Chapter 30 Quieting a Texas Feud. The Reese Townsend Trouble, and how the factions were once dismissed by Captain MacDonald. As the old century drew near its end, a wave of disorder and crime that amounted to an inundation swept over the eastern and southeastern portion of Texas. Murders, lynchings, mobs, and rumors of mobs, were reported daily. The Panhandle, even in its palmiest days, had been a young men's Christian association as compared with the older, more thickly settled portions of the state. In the Panhandle, crime was likely to be of a primitive, elemental kind, the source 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 Reese-Townsend feud in Colorado County gave the state no end of trouble. The Reese 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. It was when a boy who belonged to neither faction was shot and killed. at one of these reunions, that Captain Bill MacDonald 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 the 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 Kennan, to whom he had been ordered to report. After the exchange of greetings, MacDonald 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're right,' Judge Kennan 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.
Judge, said Captain Bill in his deliberate way, I believe I can stop this thing if you will come down to the courthouse with me. Anyhow, it's my duty to try, and we'd better be getting over there now, Judge, for this ain't gonna wait long. If we can't stop it, we can see a mighty good fight anyhow. They set out together. The courthouse 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 Reese 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. There was a movement in the Townsend crowd, and a man crossed over and ascended the courthouse stair. MacDonald 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 am 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,' ascended 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 courthouse stair, carrying their guns. "'Mr. Burford,' said MacDonald, "'which are your regular deputies here?' The sheriff indicated his three deputy officers. Cap'n Bill motioned to 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 Kennan, "'Didn't he, Judge?' The judge nodded. The sheriff still hesitated. Never mind, said MacDonald. 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 in his direction, was scarcely a word of dissent. I don't blame you all for having your guns until now, Captain Bill 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 courthouse and crossed the street to where the Reese 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 Reese 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, 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 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 Reese faction spoke up quickly. Boys, he's 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 Reese's 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. The Rees Townsend trouble, for the time at least, was over.
But note 10. Report of Adjutant General Thomas Scurry of Texas, 1899. During the month of March, 1899, Captain MacDonald and two men were ordered to Columbus, Colorado County, for the purpose of preventing trouble between the Townsend and Reese factions. Captain MacDonald 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.
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32 31 - The Trans-Cedar Mystery 16:14
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. The Transceder Mystery The Lynching of the Humphreys and what happened to the lynchers. Captain MacDonald 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 timber track between Trinity River and Cedar Creek, known as the Transcedar Bottoms, Henderson County is in East Texas, and the Transcedar Bottoms constitute just the locality and neighborhood for 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 did not fit in 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 whiskey, 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 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 MacDonald knew something of the Transcedar 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 the 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 Ailey, 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 MacDonald did not consider them especially difficult, and having satisfied himself that they could be followed, he went on to Ailey, for it was near nightfall.
At Ailey he joined Assistant Attorney General Ned Morris, District Attorney Jerry Cook, Tom Bell, Sheriff of Bell County, and Ben E. Campbell, 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 need 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 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 Transceder Tribunal he had been doomed. These facts constituted about all the foundation of known motive upon which MacDonald 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, sick 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 Holly, who lived two miles down the road, and said he knew Captain MacDonald, and wanted to see him.
The Ranger Captain reflected a minute. "'I don't know any Buck Holly,' he said. "'I knew a scoundrel by the name of Phil Holly some years ago up in the Panhandle, 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 Holly's, and that he had a brother named Bill Monasco in Amarillo. "'I know Bill Monasco,' MacDonald 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 MacDonald, "'that's about the kind of crowd that I would expect to find Bill Holly running with.' And you can tell this, Buck Holly, 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 panhandle, and that I'm going to do the same here.
Monasco said, Good night, and Captain MacDonald never saw him again. Somewhat later, when he met Bill Holly 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 Holly, but that I knew a sorry bulldozing scoundrel by the name of Bill Holly, 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 them 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. He searched Holly 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 Ailey, 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 Greenhaugh. 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 Wilkerson's in 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, subpoenaed and examined, were evidently in sympathy with the mob, and withheld their knowledge accordingly. Captain Bill had been reinforced by private oaths from Company C, and now began systematic investigation. He established his court of inquiry under a brush arbor, A framework of poles with brush atop to keep out the sun, and there, for two months, held high inquisition. It was a curious, exclusive court. The ranger-captain gave it out that he would invite such attendants 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 that Humphreys had known of an illicit still run by two men, One, Polk Weeks, and a man named John's. Also, that they had known of John Greenhaugh stealing cattle and hogs, and that John Greenhaugh 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 Transcedar 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. 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 MacDonald 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 of the crime, and how once he had gone with a 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 desserts for the reason that they were thieves, and should have been hung long before. "'How did you come to escape, then?' asked MacDonald. "'I understand that you were once indicted for cattle-stealing yourself, and that you 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 fat 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 influence and coerce the state's witnesses, and MacDonald found it necessary to threaten certain counsel for the defense with subordination 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 Greenhall 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 Greenhall 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.
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33 32 - Other Mobs and Riots 7:26
A Story of Frontier Reform. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. CAPTAIN BILL MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Other Mobs and Riots. Rangers at Orange and at Port Arthur. A riot at Orange, Texas followed the Transceder episode. Orange is a lumber town on the Sabine River, in the extreme southeast 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 MacDonald then came down from Athens with Rangers Fuller, Jones, Olde, Macaulay, 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 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 MacDonald 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 barbershop 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. Fort 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 Mexican laborers, the strikers, numbering about 400, 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 Gruud Britton, Jim Keaton, John Blanton, and Blaise 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 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 MacDonald 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 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. "'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 MacDonald and one of his men left Port Arthur. The remainder of his force stayed a few weeks longer, but the war was over.
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34 33 - Other Work in East Texas 13:37
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. Other work in East Texas. Districts which even a ranger finds hopeless. The Touchstone Murder. The Confession of A. B. Engle. It was only a short distance, as distances go in Texas, only a hundred miles or so, in a southeasterly direction, from the transcedar country, made celebrated by the Humphrey lynching, to certain sections of Walker, Houston, Madison, and Trinity Counties, where similar social conditions have developed. In Cottrell'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 MacDonald found these districts hopeless as fields for reform, he said. If a whole community has no use for law and order, it's not worthwhile 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, 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. Gittrell'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 Cutrilles 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 MacDonald. MacDonald went down, looked over the ground, and sent for one of his men, Blaise 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. 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 MacDonald 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 horde, 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 follow clues and to distinguish signs. In a comparatively brief time, Captain MacDowell felt warranted in causing the arrest of one Abe Engle and several others.
Engle 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. touched on. And Hilhudo said, "'Let's have an understanding. George Angle, Wash, and Joe Tullis, Hilhudo 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 Hudo was to be there, talking to Mary Jane, while George Engle and Mrs. Tullis were to go in at the front, and Walsh 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. 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 red 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, Hiljudo struck her with a stick. It was at this point, probably, that they cut their victim's throat. A detail which Engel'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. Hilhudo, Wash Tullis, George 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. Hilhudo, 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 MacDonald 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 had just went out to slot 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 Engle changed their shirts before breakfast, for the removal of ghastly evidence, of course, and how, after breakfast, they changed their trousers. He relates how the hogs were to be, told 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. Engle's relatives prevailed upon him to retract his confession, and under the law, as administered in that district, They were all discharged except Engel 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 MacDonald 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. It would be monotonous to detail the instances of crime and of the captures made in the neighborhood of Grouveton, Madisonville, and neighboring communities, to record the careful and brave work of Captain MacDonald and his Rangers, which led only to failure in the end through the lack of public and official cooperation. 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 heart's 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 MacDonald 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 discommoded his friends. But enough, let us turn to pleasner things.
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35 34 - A Wolf-Hunt with the President 27:20
Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. 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. It was early in April 1905 that Governor Lanham summoned Captain MacDonald, and informed him that a wolf-hunt had been arranged for President Roosevelt. By these two big branchmen, Tom Wagner and Burke Burnett, somewhere in their pastures up in Comanche County, Oklahoma, and that he, MacDonald, was to accompany the President as a special bodyguard, particularly through the state of Texas.
Captain Bill looked unhappy. "'Governor,' he said, "'you know I'm a hell-roaring 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 him.'" Captain Bill proceeded to Fort Worth to join the President's party. Colonel 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.'" 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 Panhandle. 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 MacDonald. You're not Captain Bill MacDonald 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. 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 bodyguard 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 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 servicemen 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 MacDonald 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 fellas. 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 marvelled. 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 bodyguard of four, "'Boys, you ought to take a few pointers from Captain MacDonald 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 a 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.
There were about fifteen in the hunting party, which included their hosts, Tom Wagner and Burke Burnett, also young Tom Burnett, who was in charge of the horses, himself a daring horseman, Lieutenant General S. M. B. Young, known to the Indians as Warbonnet, 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 Gwanna Parker, of whom we have heard before, in these chapters, now specially invited by the President's request. Chief Kwanah 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 Kwanah, and other vehicles. Then there was a pack of forty greyhounds, some stag-hounds, and about a half-dozen long-eared deer or foxhounds for special work.
The excitement and joy of the tense and blazing camp-fires, and the howling of the wolves, made everybody eager for morning and an early start. So, when supper was over, and the guards set for the night, the great national hunter and his friends and protectors lay down to rest, The campfire 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 Boney Moore, and behind these came President Roosevelt of the United States and Captain Bill MacDonald of Texas. It was no trouble to find a wolf in that locality. One was soon started up, and the hounds were away, with a party of horsemen and Burke Burnett's buggy following pell-mell in the 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 MacDonald was considered something of a writer himself, but he was not entirely happy in this tam-o'-shanter 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 Abernathy 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 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, workmanlike way, and made up with him hanging on his saddle. It looked easy enough. To see Ebernethe seize the wolf, and presently a young fellow in the group of hunters decided that it was easy, but when he tried it, he got only 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 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 MacDonald quietly removed the quirk, 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 quirk next day, and wondered and grumbled about it, until finally Captain Bill confessed the fact that and reasons of its disappearance. "'We were afraid you'd get snake-bit, Mr. President,' he said, "'and were 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. It was on the second day that Chief Kwanna's family arrived, his favorite wife, Two Nicee, and the two others whose names are not remembered, but may have been some Nicee and quite Nicee 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 Warbonnet and Burnett hitting only the high places. To Nicee and her matrimonial alliance bouncing along in hack with a 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 Two-nicey, Quite-nicey, and Pretty-nicey, or whatever their names might be.
But now it developed that the three nicys 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, With the eyes of white men could not distinguish even a sign. There was no need of a glass when the wives of Kwanah sat in their hack and scanned 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 Quanta 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 view 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 Kwanna'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 an 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 Nakona had wooed her and made her his wife. Nakona 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 Saul Ross, later Gov. Ross, stationed at Fort Griffin with a troop of rangers, sixty trained Indian fighters, was watching for an opportunity to fall upon Nakona, unawares. The opportunity came when Nakona, 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 in their captured plunder. Nakono's wife, who had been the little captured Parker girl, was in the camp with him. Also their two children, Kwanah and his little sister, Prairie Flower. With the first charge of the rangers, Nakona 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 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. Nakona 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. Nakona 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 us 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 Nakona, bravely, as a chief should die, and was buried where he fell. In time his grave became a landmark, and Nakona's wife, who had been Cynthia N. 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 Kwanna and his little sister Prairie Flower. The mother was never satisfied with civilization, and always longed to return to the tribe. Little Prairie Flower, homesick and delicate, hinded away and soon followed Nakona to the spirit land. The boy Kwanna 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. 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 sport. A guard of soldiers from Fort Sill was supposed to pick at 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 stays in the field, and those rare evenings about the camp-fire 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 a 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 Wagner and Burke Burnett and Bill MacDonald and John Abernethy and Quanna Parker and Two 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 MacDonald of Texas, who was a hell-roarin' Democrat, and hadn't wanted to go. He did not accompany the President of 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 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 capital that I'll let you take a shot at. Now remember—' You're coming just as you are.
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36 35 - The Conditt Murder Mystery 24:11
Albert Bigelow Payne, The Condit Murder Mystery.
A terrible crime at Edna, Texas. Monk Gibson's arrest and escape. The greatest manhunt in history. It was during the latter part of 1905, in the spring of 1906, that Ranger Captain McDonnell was engaged in unraveling a mystery which gave the opportunity for employment of his natural talent for detective work, combined with the skills and experience acquired during a long period of following criminals and uncovering crime. On September 28, 1905, two miles from the little town of Edna Jackson County, Texas, during the temporary absence of J.F. Condit, employed in a rice harvest seven miles distant, his wife and four young children, ranging from ages from a baby boy of three to a little girl of twelve, were murdered in broad daylight.
Their bodies left As if they had fallen in and about the premises. The murderers were committed in the most brutal and bloody way, with knife, ads, and such household tools and implements as came to hand. Three of the murdered children were boys. The little girl of twelve had been violated. One of an infant of a few months had been left alive. The death of that ghastly crime, its motive, its commission, its detection and punishment for its perpetrators, can only be epitnerized here, for its details would fill the volume and belong only to official records. Neither are they yet complete. We shall attempt, therefore, no more than the outlines, with such particulars to show the scope and importance of Captain McDonald's work in solving a mystery in fixing the guilt, not only without the assistance of those most interested, but in the face of the bitter opposition.
The Condit family had but recently moved to Edna. They were working people, respectful but poor, by a... And had taken a house formerly occupied by Negroes. This, then, itself, was an offense to the immediate neighborhood, a Negro settlement. And when Mr. Condit 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 drive out or destroyed the white family that had settled among them? Will perhaps never be known. That Negro seldom betrayed one another, and that a Negro conspiracy was most difficult of all plots to illuminate.
Our facts only too well established by our recently recorded history. The Condit murder plot furnishes an unusual example of this particular African phrase. The Negroes was swollen at first in their matter towards the Condit. Then, one of them, a certain Felix Powell, spoke insultingly to Mildred Condit, a little girl of 12, then September 28, 9 o'clock in the morning. The day of hour of destruction. It was one o'clock in the afternoon before the crime had become known. Monk Gibson, a colored boy of 16 who had been plowing for Mr. Condit in a field about 200 yards from the house, carried the news. He ran to the house of a white man named John Gibson, some distance away, and reported that he had just seen Miss Condit had been chasing around in the house by two men.
John Gibson went on the run to the Cundit premises, found no trace of the two men, but did find the murdered family, a house like a slaughtered pen. In the midst of this horror, a wailing infant, Gibson, the white man, hurried to call the boy off to be Mr. Cundit from the rice field and set out to spread the alarm. In a brief time, the country was aflame. Monk Gibson, returning with Mr. Cundit, was put He was under arrest, and it was now found that he was smeared and splashed with blood. He explained the stains with saying that his nose had bled and that he had hurt himself creeping through the wire fence, but there were no indications of his nose having bled, and he could show only a mere scratch of the wound.
That he was concerned in the crime was never doubted, but only unreasoning them that believed they He had conducted 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 Mark Gibson was alone, He was put through The severest ordeal examination, but he would utter nothing more than confuse contradictory stories already told. Every method was tries 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 that he alone had committed the crime. A lynching mob was forming, and a report came for Bay City that 200 men had chartered a special train for Edna and were coming to destroy the boy murdered that night. Sheriff Egg of Edna and his deputies had resolved to move 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 had accompanied him. Then quietly they got him out through a back window, mounted him, unfettered, between two officers. And slipped away towards Hallensville, where it was believed that he would be safe.
They never reached Hallensville. 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 Edna, crestfallen and discredited. The people at first declared that the deputies had put Gibson in hiding. Then only half convinced Then 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 carloads of horses were shipped to Edna. Ranch men sent their cowboys. Every pack of bloodhounds 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 16 who had slipped away from the deputies was believed to be hiding in the swamps. In the midst of all this, Governor Manham ordered the adjunct General Houlin with four companies of state troops to invest their place, whereupon Edna became a military camp in fact.
Captain McDonough was working in another part of the state when he first saw the reports of the conduct of the murder. His headquarters now being at Alice, the scene of the crime was He was a cold morning, and before many days he was notified by General Hulland to report at Edna with men and bloodhounds to join in the church. Arriving at the front, he found such a turmoil of excitement and animosity of a trouble of many kinds as is not often gathered by any one place. Men and groups of men, each more distracted than the other, were rushing, heathed, and yawned. A hundred fruitless and many 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.
In the meantime, Monk Gibson was still at large.
Captain MacDonald looked over the ground as quietly as they would let him, and gave it out at his conclusion that No one man could have committed all that crime in open daylight, let alone a boy of 16. The sentiment was almost wholly in 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 Muck Gibson, they would have a victim, and they did not want any complication. That would interfere with his elementary propulsion 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 perpetuated the crime, and was doubtless a tool of order men. Moreover, they were bloody handprints. He was left by one or more conduct murderers, and those 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 the hiding near his home, for by long experience he had learned that the hunted Negro would always go home, regardless of risk. Meantime, Monk Gibson's parents were in jail.
Captain McDonnell went on his way, holding the theory that the Negro boy would be found in the neighborhood of his own home. His two bloodhounds, 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 enter 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 church had been thorough.
Yet, Monk... Gibson was hiding in that barn all the time. There are some unthressed oats in the barn, and he had found a place that 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.
One morning, he could 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 Hulland, Captain MacDonald, Sheriff Egg, and others responded quickly. And putting the boy into a buggy made of wild gallop for a jail by a circuitous route to avoid the crowds. He landed safely inside, tossed from man to man between the line of bayonets, and when the infuriated populace gathered, they were driven back by a cordon of armed officials.
Captain MacDonald now got himself disliked in more ways than one. For one thing, he persisted that his theory that Monk Gibson alone could not have committed the crime. For another, he urged that Gibson would be taken to a safer, quieter place for protection. Furthermore, he would not permit them to obtain testimony from the prisoner by torture. Approaching a jail one night, he heard... Screams of agony. Entering, he found an assembly examiner in Monk Gibson's cell, where Gibson was tied up by the thumbs, the boy screaming, but refusing to tell anything more than conflicting, inclinating 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?
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 of 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, too, one with a special knowledge of their characteristics, appeared suspicious. He made carefully guided 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 that afternoon.
When he spoke to them about their answers in 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. Conditions of the bodies were made by evidence that the crime occurred much earlier. Captain McDonough believed that as early as nine o'clock, McDonough finally questioned Powell directly and believed he detected guilt in his every look and word. Powell denied knowing Mark Gibson at all, although the two had been raised in the same neighborhood. Gibson, on the other hand, had already acknowledged that he knew Paul and had always known him.
Finally, Captain Bill said, Well, Felix, I think I will put you in jail a while to refresh your memory. The suspect man nearly collapsed at this and protested his innocence. Searched a knife was found on him, which had been rusty. Inoffensive. Look. The knife was 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 razor-like sharpness. And when a match was passed through the jaws and blade recessed, the end of the match brought up blood. Two of the Condick children had died of a ghastly knife wounds. Captain McDon believed 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 principles in the plot to kill, that Monk Gibson had not been alone in the crime, he was quite positive. The Prince of the Bloody Handmark sawed out of the Condit. The 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 Paolo's hand, though the actual fitting was not then tried, for Paolo was wary and must be entrapped into a test that would require such nicely of adjustment. But there had one more suspicious circumstance. A shirt that had been found tucked away under a bridge over a creek where it had been washed, though it still bore evidence of bloodstains. Captain MacDonald approached Paolo with the shirt in a small bundle under his arm. That's not my shirt, declared Paolo quickly, before a word had been said before it was possible to tell what the folded garment was.
The jury, then in session, refused to listen to McDonald's evidence and detect 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 to be removed to San Antonio for safety, and the district judge consent to the removal. Threats that such 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...
He was questioned. 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 the general disapproval of his efforts. McDonald, with plenty of work, trying to be done with... He was not eager to continue a thankless task, even 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 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 They tried Muck 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 Muck was taken back to jail. It was not until the spring of 1906 that Captain MacDonald was once again He was actively concerned in the Condit case. Early in the season, while attending the Stockman's convention at Dallas, he met prominent men from the South Texas Districts and viewed with them the story of the crime and progress that he had 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. The Stockmen began by opposing Captain Bell'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 be an The matter before the governor, who agreed to reopen the investigation, but suggests that it would be done by another man than McDonough for the reason that citizens of Edna were prejudiced against the ranger. The Stockman'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, remained there until he should succeed in establishing his theory or Be ready to acknowledge himself baffled.
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37 36 - The Death of Rhoda McDonald 7:11
Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger, a story of frontier reform by Albert Bigelow Payne.
The Death of Rhoda MacDonald. The End of a Noble Woman's Life. Her Letter of Goodbye. 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 always been 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 MacDonald 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 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 MacDonald 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 goodbye. 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 flaw.
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 fulfill. Inclosed 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, twenty-five dollars, and give Ruth twenty-five dollars. 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 Molly, my sister. The other diamond, EarBob. Give Jim my books, which are at Quanah, and my Cameo ring. I want Ruth to have my watch and the breastpin that was our mother's. Give Helen White my engagement ring, the little one with the small diamonds. In the little bag is fifteen dollars 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 Molly and Ruth, and what they don't want tell them to give to the poor. Of course, the diamond ring will be yours. 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 that 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 Molly to help you find the things. I am sorry for every crossword or look that I ever gave you. But feel sure you will not hold them against me. With lots of love, good-bye. 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 fulfill.
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38 37 - The Conditt Mystery Solved 11:15
A Story of Frontier Reform. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. The Condit mystery solved. Captain Bill as a sleuth. The tell-tale hand-print. A Ranger Captain's theories established. Captain MacDonald 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 MacDonald returned to Edna. The Ranger Captain gave the disturbed elements a little judicious stirring, and they fomented. If I told all I know about that nigger, he'd hang for murder, Irene Powell blurted out. Detective MacDonald 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 bloodhounds. 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. Two little children named Reed, looking at the bleeding legs of some Thai 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 MacDonald 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 belief that the murder of the Condits had taken place in the morning, and declared that Powell had come to her with a story of how he and Monk Gibson had killed the condits, bringing his blooded 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 MacDonald 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 Condit's 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, 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 Condit 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 McDonnell'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 Condit 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 the bloody print found on the condit premises, he broke out in a 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 MacDonald, 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 this state joined in the chorus. It is not within the purpose of this book to follow here the case of the Condit murderers through the courts.
The evidence, as finally accumulated, was voluminous and damning so far as Felix Powell and Monck Gibson were concerned. That Monck 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 ploughed, 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 Gibson had joined in that fearful tragedy cannot be doubted, and he had ploughed 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 2nd of April, 1907. Monk Gibson was hanged in Quero, 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 MacDonald 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 MacDonald. Whether that evidence is found sufficient to convict will only be decided by the juries of the future.
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39 38 - The Brownsville Episode: An Event of National Importance 13:08
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. The Brownsville Episode. An event of national importance. The 25th Infantry's Midnight Raid. The year, 1906, was Captain Bill MacDonald'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 10 to 20, believed to be colored soldiers of the 25th 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 the offense was nevertheless committed by certain members of the 25th 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 part in the original conspiracy of murder. Captain William J. MacDonald, 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 Miss Ame, 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 Matamoros. Late in the summer of 1906, three Negro companies, B, C, and D, of the 25th 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 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 corrections 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 Matamoros, 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 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 cancelled. 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 13th, 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 barkeeper named Natas was serving a final round of drinks to a few belated customers, white man, 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 barkeeper, Natus, sprang to the front doors, flung them shut, and fastened them. An instant later, He ran into the backyard 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 Natas, 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 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. 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 this 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 Hollen, 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. 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 in patrol of armed citizens every night.
We know the accidental discharge of a firearm, 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 Eighteenth, 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 away. Two rangers of Captain MacDonald's command, Blaise 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 noncommittally or not at all. When Captain MacDonald himself, with the other two members of his little company, Sergeant W. J. McCauley and C. T. Ryan, arrived on the evening of the 21st, Brownsville, resentful and despairing, hailed the veteran regulator with open arms.
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40 39 - Captain Bill on the Scene 28:16
Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. 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. Captain McDonald had been serving as Sergeant-at-Arms for the Democratic State Convention at Dallas when the Brownsville attack 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 Hewlin, of the state troops then maneuvering at Austin, should be advised to act. On the morning after the outbreak, General Hewlin had been implored by the mayor and citizens of Brownsville to come to their relief, and Captain MacDonald supposed that Hewlin 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 Hewlin 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 are 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 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 MacDonald 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 21st, 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, Kelly. He learned that a major blocks them. 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 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 MacDonald now looked up his two men, Delling and Mackenzie, 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, the Rangers had learned that a squad of soldiers, with Captain Lyon of Company C, have 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, Col. 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. MacDonald 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. 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 shore. 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 anyplace 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 shotgun 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. Mackenzie, 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 MacDonald and Macaulay proceeded to the garrison. At the entrance, they were suddenly confronted by a file of about twenty soldiers, with rifles leveled. Halt! 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 used 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. Then 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, sir, Captain, yes, sir. Major Penrose is right over in his house, second building, sir.
One of you niggers come and show him to me. 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 Bloxham Who already, perhaps, had seen enough to warrant his subsequent characterization of Captain Bill's willingness to charge Hill with a bucket of water, was on hand. Also, District Attorney Clyburn. As the captain entered, he said, I am Captain McDonald of the State Rangers. I'm 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 Bloxham sat below, on either side. The court of inquiry was open. There were no preliminaries. 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. Penn Mothers 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 20 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 200 men, Captain Bill went on, 15 or 20 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. 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're 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. Where was Captain Macklin at the time? He was the 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 MacDonald'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 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. 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 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. Mr. Bloxham said, Corporal, Captain McDonnell 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. I was downtown, he said. How long had you been down there? All the evening, ever since dark. Where were you before that?
I was over in Matamoros. 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 uptown. When the shooting happened, I was down the other side of 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. 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 question, 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 96 or 76 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 45 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 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 a 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 MacDonald. 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. Where's 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 seven and one quarter and seven and three quarters, respectively. Askew's new cap and the one found in the mud We're both number sevens. Captain Bill looked them over, then turned to ask you. 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, 27th Infantry, withdrew. And Captain Bill was alone with his board of inquiry. For some moments, he regarded 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 hour, and I 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 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 anyone 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 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 got caught and put in jail.
Note 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 call them Dan White SOB. I have their names, meaning the names of the gentlemen, and some of them claimed they could identify the soldiers that used 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, This is an S of a B now with a gun. The whole crowd of 45 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 Hewlin. End of note. Captain Bill turned to District Attorney Clyburn. 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 MacDonald, 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 decided to leave to the military tribunals.
On the following morning, Thursday, August 23, armed with the warrants, Captain MacDonald and Sergeant McCauley again appeared at the entrance of Fort Brown. Evidently, the garrison had recovered its poise a little overnight 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 shotgun, was inclined to be almost polite. What do you damn niggers want this time, he said. You must get an order from Major Penrose to come in here today, was the answer.
You niggers put up them guns. You've already committed one murder, was Captain Bill's single comment. As was Sergeant McCauley, he pushed straight ahead. Both Rangers entered with their own guns leveled, and 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 businesslike 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 them 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. MacDonald then said, 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 Bloxham, who was present, said that this was a fair proposition, and the Major agreed to 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.
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41 40 - What Finally Happened at Brownsville 34:27
Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. Chapter 40. What finally happened at Bronzeville? How state officers failed to support the men who quieted this order in local crime. But, meantime, something was going on. Telegraphs were racing to and fro between Fort Brown and Washington, and in the course of the day, Captain MacDonald noticed that Major Penrose and his officers were paying visits to prominent Brownsville attorneys. A whisper came to him that 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 MacDonald, strong in his faith in the law expounded to him by Judge Welch and Attorney Kilburn, also in cooperation 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 23rd. 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 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? 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 Captain Bill.
The general suspected that Major Bloxham 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 Major Bloxham that Major Penrose's agreement to hold the prisoners subject to his McDonald's orders would be.
Still, the captain was not entirely satisfied. For some reason, there appeared to be a change in the official atmosphere of Bronzeville 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, the citizens of Brownsville would willingly surrender men. who had committed murder in the streets, entrust 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 cooperation 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 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 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 Lane, were in close conversation with Welch, which he heard Welch say, "'Well, that'll be all right,' Captain did not hesitate. "'Judge,' he said earnestly, "'you're not compromising with these people?' "'No, Captain.'" But the Major here has some orders about these men. I 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 we will have to escort them out.
Captain Bill regarded him sternly. He believed this to be 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'm 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, and here he can tell you. If it is confidential, how 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?
Penrose qualified, isn't it exactly from the president? It's from the Secretary of War. Well, I should have liked 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 country. I'm going now to wire for instructions and assistance with my four men. I can hold them, niggers, and you hold command if necessary until Governor says to let them go. Captain McDowen wired Governor Lanhan immediately as follows. To Governor SWT Lanhan and General John A. Helen, 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 to allow this to be done. I turned warrants over to them in due form with the promise 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's, Captain Company B. Ranger Force. No reply came from the Governor after a reasonable wait. And without further delay, Captain McDonald's sent to the Fort He added further.
After a most careful investigation, I am unable to find anyone. 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 MacDonald had got at least six of the right men, had determined now to make a general in complete denial. He had consulted legal 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, MacDonald, had received instructions from his superior officers, the governor and the 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 Wells. Attorney Killeber, Mayor Killeber, Combe, Congressman Garner, State Center, Wilsey, and others. Some very earnest talk was in progress in this group concerning a role in 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 tremendously 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, there followed a moment of general embarrassment for the anti-Ranger 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 role here that... The children 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 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 came here when the town couldn't get anybody else to come, and you fellows were all scared to death. As for the law, I didn't go into that post until Judge Wells here and the district attorney told me it was all right, and I arrest them niggers on warrants that Judge Wells issued. It's a strange thing to me that the law ain't all right today, and when it was all right yesterday and the day before.
As for the rest of the niggers leaving, they go fast enough when they get a chance, and I'm going to keep my prisoners here till I get orders from Governor Lindham to turn them loose. Furthermore, I don't believe the people of Brownsville want them taken away from here, and I'll tell you right now that so long as I and my men are here, them niggers are in no danger, nor the people neither. Judge Wells 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 24th of August.
I'm going to hold That bunch of niggers with those warrants until I hear from Governor Linham. I've wired the governor for assistance, and I'm waiting now to hear from him. Congressman Gardner spoke up at this point. That is a very reasonable request of Captain McDonald's, he said. Let the prisoners be held until he can hear from the governor. Captain Bill... Parleyed no further, but leaving the group, crossed over the Miller Hotel, the same that he had been fired on by the mob. Still no word from the Governor and the General that they had been 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 forest 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 armored men approaching. There appeared to be 40 or 50 of them, most of them dressed in kahaki. 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 Kilber, and the Mexican sheriff who, for the first time, was taken active part of the Browns Road 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 the Texans knew him, could have hoped to frighten him with a nondescripted muster like that.
They drew their posse, Mexican riffraff, up 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. I've come for these warrants, said Wilts. 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 Kahaki 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 picture-like 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, hold it to the light. It ran as follows. Two. Captain William J. McDonald, Company B, Range of Force, Brownsville, Texas. 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, District Judge, 39th District State of Texas. 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 stuttered 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 easily on his arm. If that is what you brought this gang here for, we'll start it now, he said. There was a spontaneous round of applause. For both the lobby and the balcony, the ladies in the ladder strained forward to get a view of the men who had defied the command of soldiers, and who now, before the very eyes, were facing the serf's armed posse, undismayed.
I'll tell you, Judge, Captain Bill went on, you all look alike fifteen cents in the Mexican money. To me, whom I am doing my duty, you and your caca... 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 came here. There was more applause at this point. Also laughter, the latter rather nervous, on the part of the ladies. Captain Bell proceeded. Now you bring him and his gang down here to arrest me for the 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 was necessary to bring these 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 Wells assumed an error of superior virtue. 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 dramatic climax. The instant for a telegram from the governor upholding the position of Captain Bill and putting his enemies to rot. 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 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 equivalent meant nothing. The last meant surrender and humiliation. Austin, Texas, August 24, 1906. To Captain W.J. McDonald, Brownsville, Texas. Have request General McCaskey to prevent removal of soldiers charged with recent murder. Consult direct judge After all, it requires defeat and reveal true greatness. Few they are who, with the eyes of the multitude upon them, can stand with calm eye and steady nerve, unmoving 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, but with a voice that was entirely steady and even pleasant. He said, If there's nothing else will do you, I'm ready now to give you my warrant for those prisoners. Mr. 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 don't intend to say so tonight. The crowd that had been still and breathless during the last few moments gave great round of applause to this, and the drama was over. Captain MacDonald still had a very small hope that affairs might take a turn before morning and all night.
With his little army, he patrolled the entrance of the fort to see that the prisoners were not moved. That a battle would have followed any such attempt there is not the least doubt. He withdrew all interference the 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 Reno, Oklahoma. When the final investigations took place, the man, who, according to Major Blackson, had been willing to charge Hale with a bucket of water, in the cost 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. Footnote. Austin, Texas, September 5th, 1906. To whom it may concern, this is the certified I did on yesterday, examined 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 had been injured. He is now suffering a great deal and very much deliberated. I advise 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, respectively. LLNCMD. That Sergeant McCauley... He was on hand and turned over the cap marked CWA to the grand jury as shown as filing receipt.
Brownsville, Texas, September 12, 1806. Received from William J. McCauley, Sergeant Company B. State Rangers 1 United States Soldiers cap marked on sweatband with name of C.W. Askew. William Follis, Foreman of Grand Jury. End of footnote. 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 Wolfhunt, 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 25th Infantry. The Brownsville episode had become a national history, a curious chapter, the end of which would not soon be written.
Footnote. During 1908, a secret investigation was being conducted by the War Department with the result that President Roosevelt recommended the The real statement 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 Appomattox D. at the end of this volume. Judge Welch's charge to the grand jury. However much we may be inclined to criticize Judge Welch's The man's attitude during Captain McDonald's stay in Bronzeville is charged to the grand jury that somewhat later took up the investigation. And now, gentlemen of the grand jury, among the other responsible duties of your position that of making a fourth rule...
And complete investigation of the unprovoked murderers' midnight assault committed by Negro soldiers of the 25th United States Infantry upon the citizens and homes of Bronzeville in the night of the 13th of August. An unoffensive citizen was shot down and killed by them while closing his gate. An unwarranted inquiry assault was made on a lieutenant of police. of Brownsville, and his arm shattered by their bullets requiring its amputation. Fiendish malice and hate, showing blacker than their scans, were evidenced by their firing of volley after volley from deadly rifles into and through the doors and windows of Finley Residences. Clearly, with the brutish hope... That they're part of killing women and children, and thus making memorable their hatred for the white race.
Howard words these, but strictly true and warranted by uncontested facts. It was my province to come among your patent 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, tense 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. Tiredy relief did come. At the eleventh hour of the fiends who disgraced The uniforms they were permitted to wear and shamed a nation were removed. That all the three companies were blamable must be conceded, for they know who were guilty, and they shielded and sheltered them, and failed to give them up.
Hence it is that it had 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 ruffling conspiracies to that end, as authorities of the United States in charge have declared the inability to discover who were the uniform thugs and murderers that committed the outrages. The lengthy investigation of a committee of your leading citizens made while these outrages...
I also present to you three affidavits made before me by W.J. MacDonald, Captain of Company B of the Range 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 officers, individual, who, if any, of these men are guilty, that knowledge should come to you as the grand inquisional body that represents not only the County of Cameron, but the state of Texas. 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 predict an incident and warrant a trial. If you indict On more 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 murder-lay, for the end of an indictment unsustained by evidence must be dismissed.
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42 41 - The Battle on the Rio Grande 22:57
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox. All LibriVox. Recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. 41. 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 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. and 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 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 healers 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 Clybur, 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 Clybur slept soundly until next morning at seven. Hearing no movement in Judge Welch's room, he called, but received no answer. Thinking the judge had overslept, Clybur 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. Clybur 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...
In Rio Grande City, the party of Judge Welch, called the Reds, Democrats, is in the minority. On this Tuesday, November 6, 1906, its franchise was even more restricted than usual. When the fact of the murder became known about 50 mounted men, Blues went through the crowds, demanding that the polls be instantly opened. Local officers were either unwilling 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 six-thirty p.m., About one hundred and twenty-five electors had not cast their votes. 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.
Capt. MacDonald's territory included Starr County, his headquarters having been removed to Alice in 1903. Co. B. had been transferred from Amarillo to Fort Hancock in 1902, for a comparatively brief period.
And on Wednesday morning of November 7, 1906, he was called by telephone from the governor's office at Austin. Gov. Lanham himself was at the Austin Inn, and conveyed the news of the assassination, which MacDonald 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 is, for it 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 towards 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 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 an hour, and he didn't stop to pack a dress suit. He notified Macaulay, 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 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 Samfordice, and at Samfordice 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 Samfordice until next morning. Those who travel from Samfordice 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 MacDonald 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, and secured a conveyance for the final stage of their journey. An old frontiersman by the name of Inman loaned a hack and a 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 eight-thirty 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 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 MacDonald. We are Texas Rangers. Stop that shooting. And this admonition, Private McKenzie quickly repeated in the Mexican tongue. 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, Macaulay, Mackenzie, and Delling, quickly jumped down, facing them.
But at that instant the epithets, Cavarrones, and Gringos, came from the Mexicans, and then, Teterli, Teterli, shoot, shoot, with which signaled 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, which was now once more moving slowly along, was afraid of yet two more, both dead.
Sergeant Macaulay, from his position on the ground, looked up to where Captain MacDonald, 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. 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 MacDonald 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, 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, November 8, 1906, Governor 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. MacDonald, Captain, Company B, Ranger Force.
That told the story adequately, cheaply, and modestly. The papers over the state had 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. 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. 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.
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 ranger's 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 MacDonald assured the citizens that he had no such fears, and the arrival of state troops and Ranger Co. D, Captain Hughes, helped to restore confidence. Captain Bill did not remain long in Rio Grande City. He was still engaged in solving the Condit 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. End of chapter 41. Read by Bill Moseley, Llano County, Texas, U.S.A. March 31, 2020.
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43 42 - The End of Rangering and a New Appointment 30:08
Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne.
The end of rangering and a new appointment. State Revenue Agent of Texas, the full redemption, Bell enforced. A great battle and budless triumph. The Rio Grande affair was Captain Bell'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 riots, and disarming unruly men. The things he had done so often that to look back on his career now was to gaze down a Khalid Dasapik visa of death and disorder. A Ruling Maze of Bad Men and Guns. It was in January 1907 that he went to Belleville as a witness in a murder case, and while he was there January 16th, that Governor T.
M. Campbell, who had just succeeded Governor Lindham, appointed him State Revenue Agent of Texas. Captain Bill's first knowledge of the matter came to to him through the morning paper at Bellsville. 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 state revenues, taxes, license, money, and the like. But he had only a dim idea of He was by no means certain that he wanted to exchange the wide, free life of rangering, whatever might be his drawbacks for the routine duties of an office in the Capitol, with a desk, a revolving chair, and a stenographer, where might be the comforts or prequisites of these things.
He was no longer a young man, and he had been shot through from different directions. Desperate wounds, long, hard veagles, 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 if this appointment was merely a sincere 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 rest out. Perhaps there was a pretty general belief in Texas that Captain McDonald's appointment was, in fact, a sincere. But if so, the idea was transact.
Arriving at the state capitol, he called on Governor Campbell without delay. How about this appointment, Governor? He said. What kind of job is it? Well, it's a better job than... "'You got, Captain. The pay is better, and it's safer, too. You're going to die or be killed someday 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 a gentle draw. "'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 Bill a copy of the statute.
There's a law on the subject, he said. You'll find all the information you need right there.
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 Vitality. 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 state expenses. He had never given the matter much consideration before, taking it for granted that In a new county, in 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 have 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 the law would be interesting and righteousness. He went back to Governor Campbell. Governor, he said, I think this job would suit me pretty well, if I can run it my way. Well, Captain, that was... What you're appointed for. Governor, Captain Bill proceeded. There are some of our counties and people paying twice as much tax as they ought to, and some of them, the ones that ought to pay most and their 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 provide for their own home expenses have assets on high violation in order to make amount big enough to go around, while the rich counties, they're practically out of debt assets on a low violation, sometimes not more than a fourth or 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 assessed on the same violation as the home levy. And the result is that the county that is in debt paying the state taxes and violation about twice or three times as big as those big rich counties that have had the most benefit from the state are best able to pay for it.
While those old rich counties get an allowance of school money from the state that is actually more than all the taxes they turned in. Now, the way to fix that is to make all the counties' assets exactly alike on full violation, and get the state levy down where it belongs to state expense fairly appropriated. The full rendition bill provides clearly for this case and ought to be 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 liveliest 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 the appointee. After all, perhaps a ranger captain in a job Like that was not an imperfect 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 reassessments were to be taken, There was no time to lose. In 1906, the assessed values of Texas properties had adjurated $1,210,000,000. State Agent McDonald resolved that they should properly be more than doubled 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 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 laundered him to disguise for his achievements would be the first to belittle him. Now, to cry him down, what he was undertaking was distinctly a minority crusade, a struggle for the pioneer. A fight for the underdog. 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 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, and part of the letter ran. Dear Sir, a state revenue agent with well-defined duties imposed upon me, I feel called upon to communicate with tax assessors relative to 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 the 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 practical and examined into the mod of rendition and assessment. And I hope... 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, the letter he said, There will be no embarrassment when I call upon the purpose of making an investigation, etc., etc.
It was a careful, dignifying letter entirely justified by his conditions. It is true the revenue agent did not fully explain in that last clause just what would be likely to cause the embarrassment 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 the newspapers of the counties that would benefit by the full rendition of law, not quite understanding, at first, got mad as a preparation for further enlightenment.
Never since Joseph laid a 20% levy on the Egyptians after first taking away all 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 indigestion as that which had its storm center in their state revenues agents' office at Austin, since Bowie and Travis, a fit successor to those heroes of the Alamo, now denounced him as a bud-thirsty 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 prophesies political ruin and general downfall. Some of them could not, and others would not, see that a full assessment for all was the only fair system, and that the values increased, the general rate of levy would lower accordingly. None so blind as those Who will not see improperly owners, public and private, in counties where assessments had long been far too low to give them a fair share of the state burdens, were naturally blinded by that self-interest which was stirred in with Adam's dust. In the nation, meetings prevailed. Assessors-elected by the people told their constitutes 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.
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. 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 The names of these men and of those newspapers, Texas should inscribe on a roll of honor in her state capital, for it was by such those that some 70 years ago her independence was won. Governor Campbell sailed 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 statute as laid down, then perhaps the ruin would be better off than the edifice. He discussed the matter thoughtfully and earnestly.
Here and there, when called upon, and was listened to with respect through with uncertain approval. Other officials throughout the state were inclined to be governed by the temper of their constitutions. 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 agents 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 through Wied 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. The statement 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 constitutions 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 bunch of county assessors would be a different manner. With these officials began to collect around the Capitol, there were plenty of talk, not always complimentary. The state revenue agent loafed around among them. It was noticeable how criticism subsided in the various groups as he saturated. In their direction. It was rumored that though a civil officer that he still wore a .45 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 fashion a good while, he said, and now we are going to do it the other way. We have been assessing by custom. Now we are going to do it by law. The present tax rate is 20 cents on the hundred. We wanted to get it I'll put 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're It was in the 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 is in earnest, and he spoke.
Also, he had the strong side of the argument. A paper commenting on the matter said, 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 what the 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 fully comply with the law and the assessments of the future, and we hereby authorize the Secretary of this Convention to notify all Assessors not present to cooperate with us in this matter.
Footnote. The New York Sun, commenting on this, said, many of the assessors came to Austin with a feeling of Amenosity toward Captain MacDonald. 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 a property at its full market value. End of footnote. When that association disbanded, if there's any indignation and resentment, it For the state revenue agent, it made no outward manifestation. One assessor said, I remember 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 thought it would It caused a great deal of confusion among the people who had made an inventory of their property.
I find it not the case. I have very little trouble. And in my judgment, I will get 40% raise for an average. And another assessor, writing to the Fort Worth Record, said, Well, I'm going to my duty. I am swearing to every man to its value of his property as well as to the rendering of it, so when Brother MacDonald comes around, if he ever does, there will be no kick coming my way. The result came when the inventories were gathered and the items put in. Between the figures of 1906 and 1907, there was an actual difference of $414,137,246 in favor of the latter year. As part of the vast increase would come from the natural property growth of the state, but in the main was due to the revised inventories and violations.
And this was a MER beginning undertaken under distributing the adverse conditions. The increase of 1908 over 1907 added another total of $561,297,248 to the property assessment values, a grating and increase over the year of 1906 of $975,434,494. Perhaps Texas will be a $3 billion state yet, and has been prophesied, and the tax rate of the Parenu counties will be such as to encourage still further settlement and progress. Not that the system is perfect yet. There are still assessors who would shriek No great reform can be immediately complete, but if state revenue agencies If McDowen survives long enough, this one will be so in time, and already it stands as its greatest monument and victory.
In addition to this work, State Revenue Agent McDonald has very largely increased the state income by 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 a single victory. In a footnote, full rendition of property values for the purposes of taxation had always been the law in Texas. The 13th legislator 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 January 1909, Appendix F, and the address by Hon W.
D. Williams, Appendix G, at the end of this volume.
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44 43 - Conclusion 15:35
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Marilyn Campbell. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne.
In conclusion, Captain Bill McDonald of Texas. What he has been and what he is today.
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 25 years. Who is still making it today. It is a 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 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 MacDonald and the little army of state rangers from which she 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 today a splendid empire of beautiful towns and cities, of fair and fruitful farms, and of handsome, hardy, law-abiding men and women. The Panhandle 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 for its existence. Today, 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 MacDonald has been 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 peacemaker. Wherever trouble occurred, MacDonald 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 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 friendship, of his prisoners. Such enemies as he has today 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 lawbreakers. 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 500 miles away as a 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 300 miles, overtaking the thieves at last, Somewhere beyond 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 MacDonald, whom they thought at the other end of Texas, charged it 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 the 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 31, 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 90s. Those riotous panhandle days. There was no show. No fuss and feathers about his work. Riot threatened or broke out here and there. The newspapers carried a line 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 quick admonitions, and it was all over.
Next day to be forgotten. With many other men, 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 fireworks 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 bulletproof, 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 always been modest concerning his achievements, discussing them 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 them. Did you feel afraid? No, I don't reckon I thought of that. Yet every man is afraid of something. It was about the time of the conversation just noted. He was then visiting New York City. But he said anxiously to a companion who was steering him through the mess of traffic at one of the 23rd 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 flanks of automobiles and traction cars mingled with a medley of other vehicles bearing down from four different directions.
A perfect triangle of impending death proved disturbing to one accustomed to simpler, if even 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. 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 whiter 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 MacDonald find delight among the halls and highways of legislation. Captain Bill MacDonald 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 today is his title, and the work he has undertaken in his new field goes bravely 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 common wealth are assured.
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45 44 - Appendix A 10:35
Appendix A of Captain Bull MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A story of frontier reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bull MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A story of frontier reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Appendix A. Extracts from Report of Adjutant General W.H. Mabry of Texas, 1896. The Fitzsimons-Mahar Prize Fight. Adjutant General's Office, State of Texas, Austin, February 27th, 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 coloured 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 dispatchers, and that he demanded they be coloured in his favour, with the threat that unless it was so worded, they could not see the fight. The dispatchers contained the denunciatory proceedings of a city council against the governor's orders in sending the rangers, and by my action there, in having close kept watch 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 Minister's Union, who represented a large class among the best citizens, proving the Governor's action and 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.
And some adjacent disputed territory about El Paso. Of course, Mr. Stewart assured me that he would not bring the fight off in Texas. But the governor of Chihuahua also informed me that Mr. Stewart assured him that he would not pull off the fight in Old Mexico. And at the same time, he had the dispatchers 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. Alba's outburst of virtuous indignation. Because I kept a surveillance over Ma when taken to Elba's 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 Ma was domiciled in the same room. By the way, from the report of Captains Hughes and Brooks, I find it hard to reconcile Mr. Elba's high-sounding document with his action in going on the bond of some bunko men whom Captain Hughes arrested for swindling and placed in jail.
They were let out of jail, and Captains Hughes and Brooks 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 citizens, 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 crimes 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 certain business elements 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. Stewart 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. Stewart's side kept up to 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 dispatchers reporting him as having Mr.
Bat-Matterson and 100 men to protect his ring. I never heard of one cat squalling because another cat's tail got smashed. They began looking for another place, and Ma'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. Yandel, who was reported in press dispatches as saying, Peter, acute ophthalmia, informed me that he never diagnosed his case, nor saw Mar at the time. The prize fighters were merely dough in the hands of Mr. Stewart 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 the time.
It is hard to believe that Mr. Stewart 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 Western Union Telegraph Company, came to me the night before the start was to be made for Langtree and demanded protection. He stated that a representative of Mr. Stewart had come to him and informed him that unless his company paid $10,000 to Mr. Stewart, that he, Mr. B, could not use his own office and his own wires to send off the report of the fight at Langtree. The same representative of Mr. Stewart's informed Mr. Brooks. That said Mr. Stewart would place his, Mr. Stewart's, men in the office and keep him out by force.
I readily granted him protection to do his 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 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, MacDonald, 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, quite an orderly in manner, determined in mean, fearless and vigilant on duty.
They thus naturally incur the displeasure of lawbreakers everywhere. I have the honour to be your obedient servant, W.H. Mabry, Adjutant General. Thanks are due to Captains Orsay and Owen for the manner in which they have performed their respective duties.
I beg here to express my appreciation for the thoughtful and courteous consideration always accorded me by Your Excellency. And my obligations for the cordial and able cooperation and advice which you have rendered to me in the administration of my department. I have the honour 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. Macdonald, J.N.O.R. Hughes and J.H. Rogers. Three are stationed along the Rio Grande and one, Macdonald, in the Panhandle, with headquarters at Alice, Cotula, Isleta and Amarillo.
They scout over a large section of the 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 effort has been made to cover as much territory as possible.
The report of operations for the two years showed that they have travelled in scouting 173,381 miles, arrested 676 criminals, returned 2,856 head of stolen stock to their owners, 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 desperados, often life is the forfeit in the encounter that they may follow. Praise is due to the commanding officers and their men for the prompt and fearless manner. 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 standing menace to criminals, they are unable to enjoy some of the protection which a state rarely 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. End of Appendix A.
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46 45 - Appendix B 10:36
A story of frontier reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.com.
Part of two years report of Adjutant General Thomas Scurry. December 1st. 1898 to 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 the jurisdiction of Texas and in Mexico, who would return to Texas to continue their depredations and murders. The ranger force was 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 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 indicated 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 1st, 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 the Rangers have been ordered. It is probably 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 a sparsely settled district of the West, and in the work accomplished in recovering stolen cattle, arresting thieves, murderers, etc. During the month of March 1899, Captain MacDonald, with two men, was ordered to Columbus, Colorado County.
For the purpose of preventing trouble there between the Townsend and Reese factions. Captain MacDonald 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, who 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 Honorable N. B. Morris, ex-assistant attorney general. 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 there to assist them and myself in the investigation of that horrible murder, which was then enshrouded in a mystery that 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 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 or 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 criticisms 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.
In March 1899, Company E, Captain J.H. Rogers commanding, It was ordered to Loretto 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 assault upon the state health officer and is forced if approached. These officers met resistance from the inmates of the house. A fight ensued in which Captain Rogers received a wound in his 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 the action without hesitation, and immediately upon reaching the street in which the Mexicans were assembled, were fired upon by the latter. The Six Ranger proceeded up the street firing as they went, being under the impression that a man seen lying in the street 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, and after this work of moving the smallpox patients to the hospital was an easy task. In April 1899, two rangers of this company were sent to 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 the request of 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 MacDonald and several of his men were ordered 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 discharge of his duty at Orange, Texas, found it necessary to shoot and kill Oscar Poole in self-defense. 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 tending court at Orange, Texas, As witnesses, and Lieutenant Fuller to challenge the charge of false imprisonment for making arrest while a private.
Footnote. This tragedy resulted in the following recommendation by the Adjutant General, which recommendation was duly acted upon. End footnote. The latter was shot and killed by Tom Poole, a brother of Oscar Poole. Well, in a barbershop, talking to one of the barbers. From the information received, it is certain that Lt. 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, quote, 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.
End quote.
That this force consists of not to exceed four companies of 20 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 first sergeants. The pay of the officers and non-commissioned officers to be as heretofore prescribed, and the pay of privates to be $40 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 the view of the fact that a number of criminal suits have been brought against privates in the Ranger Force for false imprisonments 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 the 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 24 years been acting in good faith under the impression that all Rangers had the authority of peace officers,
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47 46 - Appendix C 22:54
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne. Appendix C. Report of Captain W.J. MacDonald commanding Company B, Ranger Force. September 1, 1902 to August 31, 1904. The Adjutant General, State of Texas. Sir, I have the honor to herewith and close a report of the operations of Company B Ranger Force for two years ending August 31, 1904. September 1902. Captain MacDonald, with Privates Blanton, Ryan, and Taylor, scouted to Hutchinson County from Amarillo. Private Taylor arrested James Newland for assault and murder and turned him over to Sheriff Randall.
Sergeant McAuley and Private Delling were ordered to Newland 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 Karnas 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 MacDonald arrested S. Harvard for theft of a bale of cotton, valued at $25.20, and put him in jail at Kwana. 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 Private Taylor and Ryan, I went to Eagle Lake to investigate the attempted assassination of W.T. Elridge and to protect Mr. Elridge from further violence, and succeeded in finding out who did the shooting. Privates Blanton, Warren, 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. 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 in Clayton, New Mexico, 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 MAID headquarters instead of Amarillo. January 1903. Private Smith scouted to Alpine, to Santiago, and to Comstock. Arrested Joe Hammond for murder and delivered him to the sheriff at Alpine. Also arrested a man for theft. February 1903. Private Smith and Taylor arrested a man at Sanderson for burglarizing Lockhamdon 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 McCallie 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 the Shafter and guarded the money for the mines. I assisted the local officials of El Paso several times during the month, and went to Magnum OT as witnesses 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 Collinsworth County to Cleveland County OT 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 around 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 the Sanderson and assisted the constable in preventing trouble at a trial in court, where a defendant, a sheriff, had killed the justice of the peace. Private Taylor, at the request of the sheriff, had went with him to El Paso to bring George Maglovalin, 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 on trial.
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 arresting a man for threatening to take life. Private Stelling 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 Bryce, a Mexican, charged with Killing a lawyer named Tussleman several years ago, who had escaped at Fort Hancock while shackled, Privates Ryan and Bean were sent to Sanderson to investigate the killing of a justice of the peace and another man. Private Taylor arrested Thomas Chapis for attempted murder and succeeded in getting him in jail. Arrested R.C. McMahan for killing of Mr. Bob Smith, a justice of the peace, and Charles 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 Private Deling scouted to Furling Inn and investigated some cattle stealing. July 1903. Privates Bean and Dunningway 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 McManahan, who was charged with murder, as trouble was expected. They also arrested a man charged with rape. August 1903. Sergeants 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 Taylors scouted during the month. Various other scouts were made during the month. September 1903. By order of General Houlin, 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 a 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 white cappers and furnished the grand jury with evidence of same. One man was indicted. By order of General Holin, Sergeant McCauley and Private Dunaway went to Eagle Pass to assist in the quarantine regulations and guarded the river until 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. Private Stelling and Ryan arrested two Mexicans for disturbing the peace. Private Taylor went to Columbus as witness in the Cortez case. Private Stelling 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 and 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 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 the 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 safekeeping.
Private Smith, Taylor, and Delling attended District Court in Del Rio. December 1903. By order of General Holen, I went to Walker County to look after parties who waylaid and assassinated Bob James and Kitterrell'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 safekeeping. 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. Charles Roden 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 a sum of $1,500. Private Delling arrived in the cutoff 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 in El Paso for knocking him down with his 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 Dilling, 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 shotgun, and considerable shooting occurred. After the Negro ran out, he shot at me, and I wounded him in the side. Went to Huntsville to attend habeas corpus trial of the murders of Bob James, which resulted in holding Shaw, Rodin, and Clark without bail. Assisted Sheriff Brooks in arresting a bad Negro, wanted for robbing. Scouted in Houston, Trinity, 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 after parties charged with murder on this side.
February 1904. I went to Crockett after attached witnesses. Private Delling arrested a man in the cutoff for theft of hogs. I was ordered to Groveton by Adjutant General Holand 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 her throat had been cut and that she had been killed outright. Assisted by Private Delling, I arrested Ab Engel, 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 cutoff for horse theft and put him in jail at Groveton.
Private Dunaway arrested a man for robbing a camp. Private Behan arrested five Mexicans for disturbing the peace. And one man for assault to murder. Privates Taylor and Smith attended district court at Marfa. Private Smith and Dunaway were ordered to Groveton to assist me in holding down the Tufts of East Texas. Private Ryan attended district court at Amarillo, attended district court at Huntsville, assisted the sheriff in handling prisoners. Private Stelling arrested three men for shooting up the town. He also arrested one who was charged with adultery in the cutoff, and one for waylaying and shooting two men at Phelps with a shotgun. Private Dunaway arrested a man for carrying a pistol at Groveton, and two men for conspiring to kill Abe Hyman, the only eyewitness in the murder of Dr.
Gary, and another man at Groveton. One of the men had fixed a plan to make the others believe that Abe Hyman was going to do him some violence and succeeded in getting him to get a shotgun in order to kill Abe Hyman. Private Dunaway took the gun and landed both men in jail. The accused man 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 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.
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 murderer of Tummins, who was waylaid and killed. Two men were arrested at the house of the murderer and put under a $5,000 bond, but the grand jury failed to find the bill against them. They then began shooting at the houses and had the people considerably disturbed. With private deling, 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 in 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 would 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 in 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 two men charged with the murder, who were held without bail. Private 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 wool. June 1904. Private Delling and myself scouted in Kitterrell's Cut-Off, Houston and Trinity Counties. I went to Cobstick, made a scout on Devil's River, to El Paso, and to Fort Hancock. Sergeant McCauley arrested a man for embezzlement and started the 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 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 INGN. We captured two of the men without a doubt.
They were put in jail at Palisine and identified by the conductor as the two men who came into the sleeper, and the only two tracks that led up to where the express packages were torn open fitted theirs. They afterward 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. MacDonald. Commanding Company B, Ranger Force. Table showing results of operations of the Ranger Force from September 1st, 1902 to August 31st, 1904. Commander of Company A, Captain J. A. Brooks. Arrests made. Murder, 26. Assault to murder, 28. Aggravated assault, 5. Horse, cattle, and other theft, 43. Swindling embezzlement and forgery, 15. Carrying concealed weapons, 17. Seduction, 2. Escape convicts captured, 2. Minor offenses, 206. Total arrests, 344. Scouts, 140. District Courts assisted, 19.
Engagements with criminals, 3. Persons killed and resisting arrest, 2. Escorts. Three. Rangers killed in the line of duty. One. Rangers wounded in the line of duty. One. Horses and cattle recovered and returned to owners. Three hundred and sixty-two. Miles traveled in discharge of duty. Forty-seven thousand eight hundred and thirty-four. Commander of Company B. W. J. MacDonald. Arrests made. Murder. Thirty-one. Assault to murder. Nineteen. Aggravated assault. Four. Horse, cattle, and other theft, 37. Swindling, embezzlement, and forgery, 2. Robbery and burglary, 12. Mail and train robbery, 3. Rape and adultery, 6. Carrying concealed weapons, 23. Minor offenses, 35. Total arrests, 172. Scouts, 205.
District courts assisted, 25. Jail guards, Fifteen. Other assistance to civil authorities. Thirty. Escorts. Five. Horses and cattle recovered and returned to owners. Twenty-eight. Miles traveled in the discharge of duty. Seventy-four thousand Commander of Company C. J.H. Rogers. Arrests made. Murder. Eight. Assault to murder. Three. Aggravated assault. Four. Swindling embezzlement and forgery. Two. Robbery and burglary. Seventeen. Male and train robbery. One. Perjury. Four. Rape and adultery. One. Carrying concealed weapons. Ten. Minor offenses. Thirty-six. Total arrest. Arrests, 86. Scouts, 81. District Courts Assisted, 16. Jail Guards, 13. Other Assisted to Civil Authority, 12. Engagements with Criminals, 1.
Persons killed and resisting arrest. One. Horse and cattle recovered and returned to owners. Twenty-one. Miles traveled and discharge of duty. Fifty-seven thousand three hundred and forty-seven. Commander of Company D. Captain John R. Hughes. Arrests made. Murder. Five. Assault to murder. Six. Horse, cattle, and other theft. Thirty-nine. Swindling, embezzlement, and forgery. Four. Robbery and burglary, one. Perjury, one. Rape and adultery, seven. Smuggling, 27. Seduction, one. Minor offenses, 75. Total arrests, 166. Scouts, 204. District Courts Assisted, 16. Number of days of quarantine guard, 224. Other assistance to civil authority, 20. Horses and cattle recovered and returned to owners, 168.
Miles traveled in discharge of duty, 45,839. Arrests made. Murder, 70. Assault to murder, 56. Aggravated assault, 3. Horse, cattle, and other theft, 119. Swindling, embezzlement, and forgery, 23. Robbery and burglary, 30. Mail and train robbery, 4. Perjury. Five. Rape and adultery. Four. Smuggling. Twenty-seven. Carrying concealed weapons. Fifty. Seduction. Three. Escaped convicts captured. Two. Minor offenses. Three hundred and fifty-two. Total arrests. Seven hundred and sixty-eight. Scouts. Six hundred and thirty. District Courts assisted. Seventy-six. Number days of quarantine guard. Two hundred and twenty-four. Jail guards. Twenty-eight. Other assistance to civil authority. 62. Engagements with criminals.
4. Persons killed and resisting arrest. 3. Escorts. 8. Rangers killed in the line of duty. 1. Rangers wounded in the line of duty. 1. Horses and cattle recovered and returned to owners. 579. Miles traveled in discharge of duty. 225,557.
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48 47 - Appendix D 17:49
A story of frontier reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to...
Appendix D. Report of an investigation made by Herbert J. Brown, employed by the War Department in conjunction with Captain W. G. Baldwin, with a view of learning what happened at Brownsville, Texas on the 13th and 14th of August 1906. Sir, I have the honor to submit the following report relative to the investigation of the Brownsville raid. Ex-Private Boyd Conyers of Company B, 25th Infantry, now at Monroe, Georgia, told William Lawson, a detective in the employ of Captain William G. Baldwin of Roanoke, Virginia, that he and three or four other men of the 25th Infantry were 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, quote, another man, unquote. 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 other 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 Césur, his bunkmate, was the last one obtained. Conyers tried to commit suicide after he found out that he had made 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, The list of participants given in this report Conyers furnished me personally.
I believe it is substantially correct, but with the influence shown to be backing Conyers to adhere to his false testimony given before the Senate Committee still being exerted, he cannot be relied upon 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 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 30 states in quest of information. The appendices give statements as to the results obtained. They indicate a general knowledge on the part of 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' story is given here in narrative form.
Report of T. B. Skidmore. Quote, But a large number were secreted. At the inspection in Brownsville, Lieutenant Loreson, Company B, threatened punishment to the men who were short on ammunition, but nothing was done about it, and a deficiency was supplied. The friction with citizens of Brownsville began at once. In Boyd Conyers' language, Whiskey 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 in Allison, The colored ex-soldier, on the morning 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 Bee Barracks.
John Holloman, the moneylender of Company Bee, 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 to Had not Sergeant George Jackson of Company B in charge of the keys of the gun racks in B barracks and Sergeant Reed in command of the guards cooperated both before and after the raid? The four men who had led the raid were John Holloman, John Brown, Boyd Conyers, and Carolina de Cisseur, all of Company B, and probably R. L. Coulier of Company C. Holloman was in the barracks, Brown in the bake shop, Conyers and de Cisseur in the guardhouse. The two latter were in the same detail, and had been relieved at about eleven o'clock, Descisseurs on the post at the guardhouse, and Conyers on number two, around the barracks and facing the town.
Holloman got the party together. Conyers and Descisseurs 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 in 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 of the rear door of the guardhouse, passed through the sallyport, and joined Holloman and Brown. The party crossed the wall of the fort down near the end of A Barracks, went up the roadway to the entrance to the Cohen Alley, where the signal shots were fired, These shots were immediately tallied onto by the alarm shots of Joseph B.
Howard, guard on number two, 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 30 seconds elapsed before a number of men of Company B swarmed out on the upper gallery and opened the fuselade 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, and 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 The number firing from the barracks is unknown, but perhaps twenty 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 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 Cohen House. Testified, too, by Herbert Elkins, and it was taken from him by Desaiseurs 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 Reed was told that they were going to shoot up the town, and he laughed and said, don't go out there and let the crackers get the best of you. When Conyers and Desaiseurs reached The guardhouse, they ran in the back way and got into their bunks. Sergeant Reed came in and swore at them, but Conyers was so excited and out of breath that he could hardly stand, so Reed 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 Reed passed them out. The guns were all cleaned before daylight."
This day personally appeared before me, William Lawson, who, being duly sworn, deposes and says, 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 the point. Nor was I given any other information, except the fact that a shooting occurred at the time in place above mentioned, and that Boyd Conyers was suspected of knowing who did same. I arrived at Monroe, Georgia on June 5th, and stopped at the home of Esther Cruz, colored. I met Boyd Conyers, who is known as Buddy Conyers, on the morning of June 6th, but had very little conversation with him, but was introduced to him as an old soldier.
On the morning of June 8th, between 8 and 9 o'clock, I met Conyers about halfway between the station house and Main Street. We talked some 20 or 25 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 of 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 that 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 to Sergeant Reed, who was the commander of the guards, and that Reed said, All that I have to say is to take care of yourselves and the boys when you go down there.
S.H. Parker, whose home is in Charleston, South Carolina, was present and heard the same conversation. About then, a gentleman called Conyers came to clean some clothes, and Conyers left, and nothing further was said about the matter at the time. I was with Conyers nearly every day, and went to Gainesville, Georgia on an excursion with him on the 15th of June. I did not mention the Brownsville matter to Conyers again until the 29th of June, when I returned from Atlanta, having gone there on June 27th. 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 towards the town. He said that when the guard was called the night of the shooting, they mentioned to Sergeant Reed, What had occurred downtown, and he said, boys, if you're not satisfied, you'll have to go and get satisfied, and they remarked that they were going to get satisfaction that night. Reed 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. In this conversation, Conyers told me that John Brown, J.H. Holloman, and a man named Powell, and several others...
And that they shot out all 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 themselves were late for roll call, but that someone answered for Brown and Holloman, but that he was late, and that Rita had told him 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 they had slipped a few cartridges when at target practice, and that, before inspection, after the shooting, Reed gave him some cartridges to replace the ones he had used. He further said that they had 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 he was afraid.
I had no further talk with Conyers, because I saw that I was being suspected by the Negroes around Monroe, Georgia." William Lawson. End quote. Witnesses. H. J. Brown, George 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. Seel, George W. Madert, Notary public. This day personally appeared before me Herbert J. Brown of Washington, D.C., who, being duly sworn in, deposes and says, I was employed by the War Department in May 1908, in company with Captain William G. Baldwin of Roanoke, Virginia, Chief of the Baldwin Detective Agency, to investigate the conduct of the Battalion of the 25th Infantry stationed at Brownsville, Texas, which conduct resulted in the Brownsville Raid, so called, on the night of August 13th through 14th, 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, and the Atlantic Coastline, and is one of the best known and most responsible detectives in the country. In conjunction with him, I have been continually 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 5th, 1908, are true to the best of my knowledge and belief. In particular, I visited Monroe, Georgia, to corroborate the investigation at that point of William Lawson, a color detective and the employee of Captain I have several interviews at Monroe with Boyd Conyers, ex-private of Company B, 25th Infantry.
One of the guard on the night of the Brownsville raid, and found that William Lawson's statement 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 during the 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 11, including himself, the said Conyers, all members of Company B, 25th Infantry. The leaders of the raid, as named by Boyd Conyers, were John Holloman, John Brown, Caroline Desassure, and himself. Following them were William Anderson, James Bailey, Charles E. Cooper, William Lemons, Henry Jimmerson, James Rastus Johnson, and Henry Sonny Jones. Sergeant Reed, in charge of the guard, was accused by Conyers of knowledge before and after the raid. Sergeant George Jackson, in charge of the keys to 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's were other than that of a criminal boasting to one of his own race of his crime and his success in escaping discovery. His subsequent declarations to me were given partly during moments of contrition and a desire to unload his conscience by a confession and partially as the result of careful and persistent questioning. I found the effect of the letter from Sergeant 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 it is absolving him of 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 End quote.
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49 48 - Appendix E 8:56
Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger, A Story of Frontier Reform, by Albert Bigelow Payne. Appendix E. Report of T.B. Skidmore, presiding judge of election. Precinct No. 1, Rio Grande City, November 1906. Rio Grande City, Texas. 11-12-1906. The Honorable John R. Holland, Adjutant General, City. Sir, as the presiding judge for this precinct No. 1 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 courthouse, Used by the district judge as the courtroom. 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 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 18 law-abiding citizens to be present at the polls as early as half past 7 a.m. on the 6th of November. 1906. Then and there to take the oath of office and act as the peace officers during the election. Of these, only twelve, 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 officers stepped to the front door and noting that a body of armed men on horseback and a foot had assembled on the outside of the hundred-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. Krieger, 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, 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. Krieger 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 hand and Mr. Krieger on the other That the voters should come up the 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 his precinct, had appointed the 40 peace officers that Mr. Krieger said the Republicans had at hand to preserve the peace and ensure a fair and quiet election. Thereupon, Mr. Garza and Mr. Pena 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 8 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 vote was observed. Then, noting that for some minutes nearly all the voters had been Republicans, and side peace officer Jose Pina was directed to see why there was no Democrats coming in. On his return, he told me it would be alright, and there were no Democrats at the door just then, but another of my deputies from below in response to my call... At the end of about 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 I was informed and could see from the faces of the crowd that only trouble would endure 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 Hinojosa, the Republican challenger, to enforce order and refuse 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 10 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 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 businessmen of the town left their places of business as many as three or four times and went to the polls to vote, but were denied entry by Mr. Pinas, 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 courthouse, and that when asked if there were voters, Mr. Gregorio Duffy replied, no, there are only some posts driven in the ground for there to be a rearguard to keep out the Democrats.
Also, on examination of the certified list of poll taxpayers 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. 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 taxpayers who did not get the 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 that 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 them about 5 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 appropriate 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 course as shown by the fact that they did not, in any instance, act arbitrarily.
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 At 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, TB Skidmore, late presiding judge of the election in precinct number one of Starr County, Texas, on November 6th, 1906. Duffy has since been murdered. End of Section 48. Read by Gray Pickett. April 6, 2002.
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50 49 - Appendix F 21:06
A Story of Frontier Reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Appendix F. Portion of a message from Governor T. M. Campbell referring to recently enacted laws and their enforcement. Austin, January 14th, 1909. To the Senate and House of Representatives. As members of the 31st 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 interest 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 doubtly be assailed.
A word of 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 designated 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 reaffirmed by the organized democracy and 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 political contests involving these laws and reforms strikingly demonstrate that the agencies of corrupt and sinister special interests cannot dominate and control in Texas.
The patriotism of our people and the freedom of speech which obtains in Texas make it certain that our incorruptible electorate can safely entrusted 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 time 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 significantly 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. The Democratic platform declaration with respect to the laws enacted during this administration is as follows.
We heartily endorse the acts of the 13th 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.
End quote. 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 today 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. One. The keeping of gambling houses and exhibiting of gambling devices was made a felony. Two. The practice of drinking intoxicating liquors Three. 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.
Four. Authority was granted district judges on proper showing to prevent by injunction the sale of intoxicating liquors in prohibition communities. Five. A tax of $5,000 was levied on express company shipping 6. An effective bucket-shop law which prohibits gambling in cotton and other futures, thereby guaranteeing against oppression in the prices of the farmers' crops as a result of unnatural speculative or gambling transactions. 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. Eight. The occupation tax on useful occupations was repealed.
Nine. A law prohibiting the free pass evil was enacted. Ten. A law against nepotism was passed. Eleven. Charter fees of corporations were increased in a just and fair amount. Twelve. 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 and interest on county funds heretofore deposited in banks without interest. Thirteen. Laws increasing franchise taxes and gross receipts taxes and securing the listing, rendition, and assessment of the railway's intangible values for taxation were enacted. 14. A mine inspection law for the protection of laborers engaged in mining business, a law against blacklisting, and a law lightening the labors of tradesmen, engineermen, and telegraph operators, and to protect the public, and other just laws, were passed for the benefit and protection of working men.
Fifteen, the law known as the Robertson Insurance Law, having for its object the better protection of the policyholders in Texas and to promote investments in our state, was passed. The practical operation of this law is to require the investment of 75% of the Texas Reserve of Life Insurance companies doing business in Texas and 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 absolute requirements of the government.
17. A uniform textbook law providing for the adoption of a uniform system of textbooks for all public free schools of the state was passed. 18. A law prohibiting the 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 were fully informed, the most careful and rigid investigation into the administration of every department of government, 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 will deny. The Constitution provides that, quote, the governor shall cause the laws to be faithfully executed, end quote, 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 Treasurer's Annual Report for the fiscal year ending on August 31, 1908. The report, together with the tables accompanying the same, contained much useful information, and it is suggested that an examination of the same will be useful and profitable to the legislatures. At the beginning of this administration, The comptroller estimated the deficit for the fiscal year ending on 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 efficient 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 of the state treasury. Instead of a deficit, as predicted on August 31st, 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 31st, 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 taxpayers.
Interest theretofore escaping improper 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 physical values of the railways increased under the new rendition law from $166,782 in 1906 The intangible tax law and the full rendition law has been added to the tax rolls more than $250 million 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 rules show that they were increased, from $42,112,424 in 1906 to $80,717,825 in 1908, an increase of more than 91%.
These are prominent illustrations of property values heretofore escaping, which, under the new laws, have contributed to the reduction of the ad valerum tax of 20 cents on the $100 in 1906, to the low rate of 6.25 cents on the $100 in 1908. The average tax rate in the counties throughout the state for 1906 was 55 cents on the $100. This average rate of 55 cents was reduced in 1908 to an average of 40 cents on the $100 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 the 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 general revenue increases, the ad valorem tax rate for state purposes will be reduced in proportion. Under the operation of the tax laws of the last legislature, the property values and 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 $100 amounted to $2,435,412.92, and in 1908, with a tax rate of 6.25 cents, the total tax amounts to $1,358,826.55, an increase in assessed values of $952,935,411, and a reduction of $1,003,000. $76,586.37, and 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 seen.
The valuation of property assessed for taxes, the rates of the amounts of state ad valorem tax 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 cents. 1907. Valuation. 1,635,297,115. Rate, 12.5 cents. Amount of taxes. $2,040,625.58. 1908. Valuation. $480. Right?
Six and a quarter cents. Amount of taxes, $1,338,826.55. Receipts to the credit of the state's general revenue for the year 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 disclosed the gross inequalities obtaining throughout the state prior to the recent tax legislation, and they further showed 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 rates from 20 cents to 6.25 cents, and the state school ad valorem rate from 20 cents to 16.23 cents, and received the full benefit of 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 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 shares 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 9 of the Acts of the First Called Session of the 13th Legislature should be amended So that suits for removal from office may be instituted and prosecuted either in the county of such an officer's residence or in the district courts of Travis County and at the option of the Attorney General. Laws should also be enacted, providing that resignations or expirations of terms of office 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 an 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 law's enforcement and the suggestions made by those faithful officials will, I believe, be of much value to the legislature in approving our system of taxation and in enacting legislation to secure equality and more uniformity in the distribution of its burdens.
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51 50 - Appendix G 28:40
A story of frontier reform. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A story of frontier reform. By Albert Bigelow Payne. Appendix G. Address of the Honorable W. D. Williams in reference to the full rendition laws. I am altogether sensible, gentlemen, of the honor which you have done me by inviting me to discuss before you that act of the 13th 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 adverse to accepting the invitation. I have heard so much said about this law.
I have heard it so widely praised and so extravagantly denounced. I have heard its promoters and all who were concerned in the enactment so severely condemned on one hand and so unreservably 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 to at last really desire to speak my own thoughts on the subject. And especially is this true when I am afforded today 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 clauses of my own state.
For this 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.
That statute... Which is generally called the full rendition statute, was enacted at the regular session of the 30th legislature and is published by official authority as chapter nine 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 is well settled by repeated decisions of appellate courts, that where the word value is used as statute and is not limited by either 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 to 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 and or compelling obedience to methods already established by law, but fallen into partial or total disuse. The Constitution of 1876, which is now in force, commands that all property in the 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.
The Constitution fixes the same standard of compensation as does the Act of 1907, and if the latter is created, 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 valerum 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 tonnage duties. Article 2, Section 1. This authority was sufficiently broad to enable the legislature 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 to 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 homespun, 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. Pass that act entitled, An Act to Raise a Public Revenue by Direct Taxation. Approved June 12, 1837. And so, after this matter, 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. For, by this act, Congress required all property owners and all agents and representatives of such owners to make out and deliver 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 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 they could not keep their minds occupied with other things. And, in 1838, Congress amended and 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 a count of his property and its value. A true and perfect valuation Think of it, O ye who strain at gnats in these meek in 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 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, even in our troubles, and I can imagine that, even in the time of the Republic, our citizens desisted momentarily from the lighting of the Mexicans in 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 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 companioned 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 truth for purposes of taxation. The statutes of Texas have always been full rendition statutes, and our constitutions, except for that one which is adopted in 1836, have always been full rendition constitutions. And, in my judgment, there could 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 full rendition. 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 hundred should be levied on the values so listed, it would be in substance to have enacted a law for the taxation of its property at full value for 25 cents on each $100, and no amount of figuring can make it out, anything less or anything more. The proposition that property shall be taxed at one-fourth or 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 1st, 1908, and by reason of any change in conditions, the value has diminished before the arrival of the tax-paying season, say, December 31st, 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 on 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 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.
But, if it be urged that the owner would be better satisfied to pay $0.25 an acre if his land be valued at $25 an acre, then he He will have to pay the same 25 cents on the same acre upon 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 cannot 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. Cannot 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 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 in the benefits of such reduction distributed proportionally 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 inequality 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... And under these laws...
Which, on the face, required a fair assessment, did not undertake to compel obedience to their provisions. A practice of evasion was begun, and spread all over the state, until a condition prevailed which was anarchy, pure and simple. Counties strove against county, and neighbor against neighbor, each one trying to unjustly shift some portion of his rightful burden onto 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 percent of the value the property assessed, while the average in another county was as much as 75 percent, and the remaining counties of the state ranged themselves anywhere you pleased 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 particular The people of the 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 of 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 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 those 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 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 which I will venture to call purer and better laws did not begin in the 30th legislature, but years and years ago. And the so-called Full Rendition Act of 1907 is merely a milestone 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 require assessors to list at full value the stocks or property 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 of assisting to pass in the 29th Legislature, is another full-rendition law, under the operations of which nearly $174 million of additional railroad values is exposed to view and listed and taxed.
These and other statues 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 affect the purpose of any law, no matter how just or wise it may be.
But I would remind you that we cannot give ground in the face of this argument without abandoning all effort at an orderly rule of society and pledging headlong into deadly chaos of anarchy. If our inability entirely, 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 the force of this objection, we must abandon all law, for in no case are we able satisfactorily to enforce any statute which is on our books. Remember, gentlemen, I make no pretence 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 of aspirations of the businessmen of Texas, must make no step backward. To repeal the 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 be 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. 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 cannot 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 true. The full rendition law, considered in connection with other statutes in force upon the same subject, provides an admirable system of law.
But this is a state of vast areas and of prestigious distances, and in any such widely extended area. 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 a vast majority of such cases would be no better than a farce. The state government is practically without power to compel reasonable assessments in any county or section where the citizens are largely opposed to full rendition.
The administration has no legal authority which it can effectively use, but must confine itself to moral suasion alone, and in controversies where interested parties are arrayed upon opposite sides, we as people 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 A compulsory equalization of some character seems to me to be the next step to be taken in the forward march towards 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 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 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 29th and 30th 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. But in 1907, the ad valorem tax of the state expenses reduced to $2,044,566. The operation of that new tax law has reduced 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 savings for the year 1908 will not be less than $900,000 on state expenses, not including the school funds. It cannot be successfully denied that the new tax laws have tended largely towards 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 cannot be surpassed in the history of governmental finance. These are the triumphs which we are asked to abandon by returning to that system where, quote, the assessors under the Commissioner's Court made the assessments as under former laws, end quote. Now, gentlemen, I, for one, am not disposed to retreat. I am intending to go forward, not backwards, 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 those here today as the representatives of Commercial Texas.
End of section 50, read by Gray Pickett, April 8th, 2022. End of Captain Bill MacDonald, Texas Ranger. A Story of Frontier Reform by Albert Bigelow Payne.