Part 8

It will be seen from the foregoing how different the Ranger service and regulations were from those of either the federal or state troops. Unlike the army they wore no uniform, and they provided, for the most part, their own equipment. They differed from State and county officials in that they were confined to no county or portion of the State, but could "range" wherever their service was needed and with little or no direction from headquarters until their mission was accomplished. It will be clearly seen that men constituting such a band must be not only brave, and quick and accurate with fire-arms, but must be men of good character and high, firm principle as well. It is the moral qualification more than any other that has given the Ranger organization its efficiency and power. A force, however small, composed of men who can shoot straight and are brave, and who believe in the right, is well-nigh invincible. The Rangers, originally organized for a great and sacred purpose, the defense of homes, went forth like knights inspired by lofty motives and high resolves, and during whatever change that has come in the aspect of their duties the tradition of honor seems to have been preserved. Indeed they have been from the beginning not unlike the knights of old who rode forth without fear and without reproach to destroy evil and to redress wrong.

Speaking further of Ranger equipment Sowell says:

"In the first place he wants a good horse; strong saddle, double-girted; a good carbine (this was before the day of Winchesters); pistol and plenty of ammunition. He generally wears rough clothing, either of buckskin or strong durable cloth and a broad-brimmed hat of the Mexican style; thick over-shirt, top boots[5] and spurs, and a jacket or short coat so that he can use himself with ease in the saddle."

And the author adds:

"A genuine Texas Ranger will endure cold, hunger and fatigue, almost without a murmur, and will stand by a friend and comrade in the hour of danger and divide anything he has got from a blanket to his last crumb of tobacco."

So much for the Ranger and his origin. As the years went by and the Indian was conquered or driven away, the Ranger's work changed, but his personality remained the same. The Ranger of seventy years ago is the Ranger of to-day--only, his duties have altered. Long before the conquest of the savages a new element of disorder had entered the field. The desperado who had stirred up the first Indian troubles had survived and increased, to plunder his own race. The new and sparsely settled land invited every element of lawlessness and every refugee of crime. Local authorities would not or could not contend with them. It was for the Rangers, now much reduced in numbers, to solve the problem of destroying the disturber in their midst as they had driven the savage enemy from their frontiers. They were made peace officers, and became a mounted constabulary, their duties being to quell disorders, to prevent crime and to bring criminals to justice. It was new work--less romantic than the wild Indian warfare of the frontier; work full of new dangers and what was still worse it was work which instead of inviting the encouragement and enthusiasm of a community, was of a sort to incur its displeasure, for the desperadoes of a neighborhood were either the heroes or the terrors of it, and in either case to molest them was likely to prove unpopular. So it was, during this new order of things, that the Ranger service had to contend not only with the offenders but sometimes with the very people whom they were hoping to protect. This made the work hard and discouraging, as work always is hard and discouraging when it is done amid enemies who wear the guise of friends. How well they have succeeded is told in the official reports. W.H. Mabry, Adjutant General of Texas in 1896, says in his report for that year, referring to the Rangers:

"This branch of the service has been very active and has done incalculable good in policing the sparsely settled sections of the State where the local officers, from the very nature of the conditions, could not afford adequate protection. Including the meanderings of the Rio Grande we have about 3,000 miles of frontier line. Part of this borders on a foreign country, with different customs, law and language. Only a river fordable at most any point intervenes. But for the Ranger force, specially equipped for continued rapid movements, this border line would be the rendezvous for criminals of nearly every description and class."

General Mabry then sets down the fact that the Ranger service has increased the State revenues by something like four hundred thousand dollars for the year through the protection of leased frontier State lands which otherwise could not be inhabited and would yield no return in either rental or taxes.

In concluding he adds: "It is true that the frontier force does not and could not cover all this territory, but the fact that they exist and are scouting over every foot they can travel prevents organized bands from being established along this border line.... They are circumscribed by no county limits; can easily and rapidly move from one section to another and criminals do not care to invite their pursuit. Specially equipped for continued rapid motion, they take up the trail and follow it with a persistency of the sleuth hound, until the criminal is either run out of the country, captured or killed.

"In every train robbery which has occurred in Texas, the robbers have been either captured or killed, whenever it was possible to carry the Rangers to the scene, so they could take the trail. The broad expanse of sparsely settled territory in this State would offer easy opportunity for such crimes, if it were not for the protection given by our mobile and active Ranger force."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 3: The scene of the Parker Massacre is located by some authorities, in Limestone County, somewhat further north. Accounts of the event itself also differ. The details here given are from "Texas Rangers" by A.J. Sowell, and are said to have been supplied by eye-witnesses.]

[Footnote 4: "Texas Rangers," by A.J. Sowell, of Seguin, Tex., 1884.]

[Footnote 5: The Ranger's boots like those of the cowboy are made with high heels to prevent his foot from slipping through the stirrup. Both the Ranger and the cowboy ride with the stirrup in the middle of the foot, it being safer and also less fatiguing on a long ride, sometimes a distance of a hundred miles between daylight and dark.]

XVII

"Captain of Company B, Ranger Force"

CAPTURE OF DAN AND BOB CAMPBELL. RECOMMENDATIONS FOR A RANGER CAPTAIN. GOVERNOR "JIM" HOGG APPOINTS HIS OLD FRIEND ON THE STRENGTH OF THEM

It will be seen from the foregoing, and from the chapters already published of these memoirs, that a man like Bill McDonald would be well qualified for Ranger service. Already he had been appointed a special Ranger in Company B., commanded by Captain S.A. McMurray, but his duties as U.S. Deputy Marshal, in No-man's Land and in the Cherokee Strip, had been his chief work. Nevertheless, he had, on occasion, engaged in bandit-hunting in his own State, during this period, either alone or in company with other officials, usually with good results. An instance of this kind was the capture of Dan and Bob Campbell which occurred about the time of his concluding the Cherokee Strip campaign.

With his wife, McDonald was on the way from Quanah to Fort Worth, when, at a switch now known as Iowa Park, they met a special, standing on a sidetrack, waiting for them to pass. It was the sort of train that is made up for an urgent purpose, consisting only of an engine and a single car, and McDonald recognized upon it the sheriff of Wichita Falls, also the marshal and others of a posse, evidently out for action. Upon inquiry, he learned that the Campbell boys, two well-known desperadoes of that time, were believed to be somewhere in the neighborhood, preparing to waylay a train. A good reward had been offered for the Campbells and the sheriff and his men were considerably moved. McDonald asked if they would like his assistance, and being assured that they would, sent word back to his wife by the conductor of the down train that he was going to catch some bad men, and boarding the special already impatient to start, took the back track toward Burke, a small station where the outlaws had been seen. When they reached there, it was McDonald's wish to procure horses and begin the search at that point, but the sheriff and his posse thought better to proceed to Harrold, some twenty miles further along, in which direction it was supposed the bandits had traveled.

Leaving word at Burke that they were to be notified in case of any fresh discoveries, the officers again boarded the special, and upon arriving at Harrold found a telegram that the outlaws had been seen entering a thicket not far from Burke. Horses, and a freight car in which to load them, were immediately secured, and the train was backed to Burke. Here the officials separated, the sheriff directing McDonald and the guide who had located the burglars, with a man selected from the posse, to go in one direction, while the sheriff with the remainder of the posse, took another course; the general plan being to round in on the thicket where the outlaws were supposed to be concealed. Arriving near the place, Deputy McDonald and the two men with him discovered two horses hitched in the brush--undoubtedly the mounts of the two Campbells. It was certain now that the quarry was near by, and the three men waited a little for the sheriff and his party to come up. It became evident, however, that their tactics were of a different sort. The posse was scattering out as if they were deer-hunting, taking stands at various distant and semi-distant points, evidently expecting McDonald and his companions to go in and start up the game. McDonald noticed now that his guide was not armed, and was therefore of no further service. Turning to his other companion, he said:

"I don't like this kind of performance. I'm in favor of charging straight in on them."

His companion seemed to agree to this plan, and without further word Deputy Bill put spurs to his horse, charged straight into the thicket, and suddenly found himself almost on top of Dan and Bob Campbell. Without a breath of hesitation, he leaped to the ground, leveled at the former, who was already in the act of shooting, and commanded him to drop his gun. The order was obeyed; but Bob Campbell, who would seem to have been asleep, reached for his six-shooter, and though commanded not to touch it upon penalty of death, paid small attention to that order. He did not attempt to fire the weapon, but lay there on the ground with it raised, defying his would-be captor with language that was both violent and uncomplimentary. McDonald now suddenly realized that he was alone; that his companion had failed to join in the charge. Bob Campbell realized this too, and became momentarily more defiant. Then, all at once, help arrived. A dentist who had joined the sheriff's posse, had observed Deputy McDonald's single-handed charge, and now came bravely to his assistance. The Campbells both surrendered, then, for the posse was not far behind. They were taken to Wichita Falls, where the sheriff promptly claimed credit for the capture--also, the reward. Later, the Campbells broke jail, but were eventually recaptured, and served a long sentence.

Events of this sort kept Bill McDonald's name fresh in the Texas mind, and made him seem peculiarly eligible for regular service. The resignation of Captain S.A. McMurray, who had long and bravely commanded Company B became his opportunity, and he hurried to Austin to try for that command.

His old friend, James Hogg, was now governor of the State. Since the settlement of their differences so long before, there had been no discord of any kind, and each had admired the other's career, proud to remember the friendship. Arriving at the capital, McDonald was shown into the governor's room. Greeting him, he said:

"Well, I hardly know what to call you, since you got to be governor. I don't know whether to call you 'Jim' or 'Mister.' I'll have to call you 'Governor,' I guess, as I want to get a place."

They shook hands cordially. Governor Hogg said:

"What is it, Bill? What can I do for you?"

"Why," said McDonald, "I came down to get to be Ranger Captain--to take McMurray's place in Company B."

Hogg looked at him reprovingly.

"Why didn't you let me know sooner?" he said. "There are two other applications for the place; both from good men, with long petitions and fine endorsements."

The applicant for position forgot his old friend's title.

"Why, Jim," he said, "I never thought of it until a day or two ago. I didn't have time to get endorsements, but I can get 'em, if you want them. I have been working mostly in No-man's Land and the Territory lately, but have done work in Texas too, and I can get about any kind of endorsement you want."

Hogg laughed. He had a robust sense of humor.

"By gatlins!" he said, using his favorite expression. "That's all right, Bill, you have already got the best endorsement I ever saw."

McDonald looked puzzled.

"I don't understand," he said, "I didn't know anybody knew I wanted a place."

"All the same, you have got the endorsements," insisted Hogg.

He turned to his desk, and got out a bundle of letters.

"Look over these," he said. "You probably know some of the writers."

McDonald took the letters, and read them one after another. They were from well-known criminals, their lawyers, their friends and their associates. They had been received by Hogg while he was attorney-general, and each was a protest and a complaint against McDonald, declaring him to be a ruthless and tyrannical official, whose chief recreation was hounding good citizens for the sake of revenge or glory, enforcing laws that were not on the statute books, adding that it was not unusual for him to put the said citizen in jail, or in box-cars, declaring further that he sometimes hitched them to posts with chains, and that he was a menace to legitimate settlement and society in general.

McDonald looked over some of these documents, and grinned.

"That's so, Jim," he said, "I do put 'em in box-cars when there ain't a jail; the way I used to do back in Mineola--you recollect, when the jail was full--and I lariat 'em out with a chain and a post when there ain't a box-car handy; but I don't reckon they're innocent."

Hogg nodded.

"By gatlins! Those endorsements are good enough for me," he said. "They carry the flavor of conviction, I appoint you Ranger Captain on the strength of them."

McDonald returned to Quanah with his appointment as captain of "Company B, Frontier Battalion." The headquarters of the company were then at Amarillo, in the southern part of Potter County, near the Randall County line. This was almost the exact center of the Pan-handle, and in a locality sparsely settled, untamed, and lawless.

Since the early days of "Ranging" there had been not much change in Ranger regulations and equipment. The character of the work, however, had changed and the force had been reduced in numbers. Company B now consisted of only eight members all told. These were supposed to range over all that vast section known as the Pan-handle, and were subject to orders that might take them to any other portion of the State where their assistance was needed. The Rangers were peace-officers, their duty being to assist the local officers, rather than to take the initiative and predominate.[6] In the Pan-handle, however, and in many other portions of the State, the Rangers were obliged to lead, for the reason that the local officers were either incapable, indifferent, or incriminated, as we have already seen.

The Ranger camp at Amarillo--besides the eight men mentioned--consisted of tents, furnished by the State, a wagon and mule team, a hack, and two pack-mules. Each Ranger furnished his own horse and arms; the State paid for food and ammunition, also for transportation when necessary. In Company B were enrolled Sergeants J.M. Brittain and W.J. Sullivan; Privates John and Tom Platt, Jim Green, John Bracken and John Bishop; also somewhat later, W.J. McCauley--McDonald's nephew--a daring youth--then about eighteen years old, but a natural plainsman, dashing and fearless; an ideal Ranger.

Expeditions were always made with horses. When the distance was far, the horses and pack-mules were shipped to the nearest railway-point, sometimes by special train; an engine and car being secured for such excursions. This train would stop at any point required; the horses and pack-mules were jumped from the door of the car to the ground--sometimes a distance of several feet--and when the point of attack was close by, this wild little army would sweep across the prairie or through the bushes; the pack-mules, loaded with cooking utensils and tinware, often clattering ahead--riderless, but seeming to know by instinct where to go--braying, with tail in air, constituting an advance guard of reform. It would seem that such a charge might have given the alarm and frightened every outlaw within a radius of several miles; but as a matter of fact, these charges were generally planned and undertaken with great secrecy, and the sudden clamor of such an approach was likely to create an amazement which did not subside to the point of action before the time for escape had slipped by. Speaking of it afterwards, Captain McDonald said:

"That infernal racket seemed to jar the nerve of a criminal, for I never knew a pack-mule charge where the men we wanted seemed to have either spunk enough to put up a good fight or sense enough to get away."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 6: This came into dispute somewhat later and the Twenty-seventh Legislature passed an Act confirming what had always been their custom.]

XVIII

An Exciting Indian Campaign

FIRST SERVICE AS RANGER CAPTAIN. BIGGEST INDIAN SCARE ON RECORD

It was in January, 1891, that Bill McDonald received his appointment as Ranger Captain, and his first official service was not long delayed. He arrived at Amarillo about midnight, and was received with congratulations, for the news had traveled ahead of him. He was tired, however, and the hour was late, so he presently slipped away to bed. He had hardly fallen asleep when he was rudely awakened and handed a telegram which stated that the Indians had made a raid across the border, and were killing and robbing in Hall County, near Salisbury.

Captain McDonald read the telegram and laughed. There had been no Indian troubles in Texas for a number of years. White renegades there were in plenty, but Indian outbreaks had long since ceased.

"I guess the boys are trying to have some fun with me on my first night," he said, and turned in once more to sleep. But a few minutes later another telegram came; and another; this time from the superintendent of the railroad company--a Mr. Good, whom McDonald knew as a man not given to practical joking.

The Ranger Captain dressed himself, hurried over to the telegraph office and got the operator there to talk over the wire to the operator where the scare had originated. He learned that it seemed to be genuine, and that everybody was leaving the neighborhood. The operator at Salisbury ended his information with "Good-by, I'm going now myself."

Captain Bill still could not believe it a genuine Indian incursion. Hall County was in the second tier from the Territory line, and the Indians would have had to cross Childress County to get to it. He did not believe that they would undertake to do this, or that they could have accomplished it without previous alarms. Still, it was his duty to investigate. He got a special train; loaded in men, horses and pack-mules, and set out on a hunt for Indians. It was about a hundred miles to Salisbury, and they reached there early in the day. Not a soul was in sight anywhere. The inhabitants were hidden, some in dug-outs, some in haystacks, some in the tall grass. Here and there, as the train pulled in, McDonald saw a head stick out from a sod house far out on the prairie, then suddenly disappear, like a prairie-dog dropping into his hole. He set out to interview some of these wary settlers, and learned that the Indian alarm had been given by a man--a new settler just arrived in the country--who had ridden his horse to death and lost one of his children--having left him far behind somewhere--in his wild eagerness to escape the savages who, he declared, were burning and scalping not far away. Captain Bill found this man, and after a little talk with him was convinced that what he had seen was nothing more nor less than some cowboys on a round-up, disporting themselves around their campfire at night, as cowboys will--dancing and capering in the mad manner of young plainsmen whose ideas of amusement are elemental, and whose opportunities for social diversions are few. The man and the neighborhood, however, remained unconvinced, so it was decided to visit the scene of the disturbance.

Horses, men and pack-mules unloaded themselves from the freight car, and went racing over the prairie; the pack-mules, as usual, plunging and braying with tail in air, their tinware clattering in a manner calculated to put a whole tribe of Indians into a panic and send them capering across the eastern horizon into their own domain. But there were no Indians. It was as Captain Bill had thought; a gang of cowboys, the evening before, had rounded up some cattle; killed a beef; carried it to their camp near by, where they had built a great fire and roasted it, doing a wild war-dance of celebration, and shooting off their six-shooters in their prodigal expression of joy. Viewed from a little distance, through a sort of mirage condition which had exaggerated the whole effect, the scene to the newcomers was a horrifying picture of savages about a burning home, with the inhabitants fleeing for their lives.

The man who had just moved in had stampeded for his own safety and started a general alarm, which did not subside even when the cowboys themselves came in and testified to the truth. The panic spread throughout that section of the country and other reports of Indian outbreaks were circulated, becoming magnified until it was believed that the Indians had broken out, and were making a general raid on the Pan-handle. The inhabitants of one town, south of Amarillo, threw up breastworks, got behind them, and put out pickets in preparation for the arrival of the Indians. Every man seen loping across the prairie was reported as an Indian; and all this happened as late as 1891, when there had been no Indian outbreaks for years, and when there was scarcely a possibility of anything of the sort. It was a big joke, of course, afterward, but it seemed no joke at the time, and it was Bill McDonald's initiation as Captain of Company B.

XIX

A Bit of Farming and Politics

CAPTAIN BILL AND HIS GOATS. THE "CAR-SHED" CONVENTION

There were to be plenty of real alarms soon enough, with plenty of desperately hard work. Before taking up this part of the story, however, it may not be out of place to dwell briefly on certain other labors and interests incident to this period in Captain McDonald's career.