[Illustration: _W.J. McDonald_]
CAPTAIN BILL McDONALD
TEXAS RANGER
_A Story of Frontier Reform_
BY
ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE
Author of "Th: Nast--His Period and
His Pictures," etc., etc.
With Introductory Letter by Theodore Roosevelt
"No man in the wrong can stand up
against a fellow that's in the right
and keeps on a-comin'."
Bill McDonald's Creed.
SPECIAL SUBSCRIPTION EDITION
Made by J.J. Little & Ives Co.
New York, 1909
Copyright, 1909, by
WILLIAM J. McDONALD
To
EDWARD M. HOUSE
WITHOUT WHOSE ENDURING
FRIENDSHIP, WISE COUNSEL
AND ACTIVE INTEREST THIS
BOOK WOULD NEVER HAVE
BEEN WRITTEN
CONTENTS
Page
Foreword: A letter from Theodore Roosevelt 11
I.--Introducing "Captain Bill" 13
II.--An Old-Time Mississippi Childhood
The kind of education for a young Ranger. Presence of
mind early manifested 16
III.--Emigration and Adventure
A boy at the head of a household. Meeting the "Devil
and his wife." An early reform 21
IV.--The Making of a Texan
Reconstruction and "treason." "Dave" Culberson to the
rescue. Education, marriage and politics 26
V.--The Beginning of Reform
Subduing a bad man. First official appointment. A
deputy who did things. "Bill" McDonald and "Jim" Hogg 33
VI.--Into the Wilderness
A New Business in a New Land. A "Sand-lapper" shows
his "sand" 43
VII.--Commercial Ventures and Adventures
Bill McDonald's method of collecting a bill; and his method
of handling bad men 48
VIII.--Reforming the Wilderness
The kind of men to be reformed. Early reforms in Quanah.
Bad men meet their match 55
IX.--Getting Even with the Brooken Gang
The Brooken Gang don't wait for callers. One hundred
and twenty-seven years' sentence for an outlaw 65
X.--New Tactics in No-Man's Land
A man with a buck-board. Holding up a bad gang single-handed 69
XI.--Redeeming No-Man's Land
Bill McDonald and Lon Burson gather in the bad men.
"No man in the wrong can stand up against a fellow that's
in the right and keeps on a-comin'" 78
XII.--Some of the Difficulties of Reform
"Frontier" law and practice. Caught in a Norther in
No-Man's Land 87
XIII.--Captain Bill as a Tree-Man
The lost drove of Lazarus. A pilgrim on a "paint-hoss."
A new way of getting information in the "Strip" 95
XIV.--The Day for "Deliveries"
The tree-man turns officer, and single-handed wipes out a
bad gang 106
XV.--Cleaning Up the Strip
Deputy Bill gets "stood off," but makes good. Bill Cook
and "Skeeter," "A hell of a court to plead guilty in!" 115
XVI.--Texas Ranger Service and Its Origin
The massacre of Fort Parker; Cynthia Ann Parker's capture.
Rangers and what they are for. Their characteristics
and their requirements 126
XVII.--Captain of Company B, Ranger Force
Capture of Dan and Bob Campbell. Recommendations for
a Ranger Captain. Governor "Jim" Hogg appoints his old
friend on the strength of them 136
XVIII.--An Exciting Indian Campaign
First service as Ranger Captain. Biggest Indian scare on
record 145
XIX.--A Bit of Farming and Politics
Captain Bill and his goats. The "car-shed" convention 149
XX.--Taming the Pan-handle
The difference between cowboys and "bad men." How
Captain Bill made cow-stealing unpopular 154
XXI.--The Battle with Matthews
What happened to a man who had decided to kill Bill
McDonald 165
XXII.--What Happened to Beckham
An outlaw raid and a Ranger battle. Joe Beckham ends
his career 176
XXIII.--A Medal for Speed
Captain Bill outruns a criminal and wins a gold medal 179
XXIV.--Captain Bill in Mexico
Mexican thieves try to hold up Captain Bill and get a surprise.
Mexican police make the same attempt with the
same result. President Diaz tries to enlist him 182
XXV.--A New Style in the Pan-handle
Charles A. Culberson pays a tribute to Ranger marksmanship.
Captain Bill in a "plug" hat 189
XXVI.--Preventing a Prize-Fight
The Fitzsimmons-Maher fight that didn't come off at El
Paso, and why. Captain Bill "takes up" for a Chinaman 194
XXVII.--The Wichita Falls Bank Robbery and Murder
Kid Lewis and his gang take advantage of the absence of
the Rangers. They make a bad calculation and come
to grief. Good examples of Bill McDonald's single-handed
work, and nerve 199
XXVIII.--Captain Bill as a Peace-maker
He attends certain strikes and riots alone with satisfactory
results. Goes to Thurber and disperses a mob 214
XXIX.--The Buzzard's Water-Hole Gang
The Murder Society of San Saba and what happened to it
after the Rangers arrived 221
XXX.--Quieting a Texas Feud
The Reece-Townsend trouble, and how the factions were
once dismissed by Captain Bill McDonald 243
XXXI.--The Trans-Cedar Mystery
The lynching of the Humphreys and what happened to the
lynchers 250
XXXII.--Other Mobs and Riots
Rangers at Orange and at Port Arthur. Five against four
hundred 260
XXXIII.--Other Work in East Texas
Districts which even a Ranger finds hopeless. The Touchstone
murder. The confession of Ab Angle 265
XXXIV.--A Wolf-Hunt with the President
Captain Bill sees the President through Texas and accompanies
him on the "best time of his life." Quanah Parker
tells stories to the hunters 273
XXXV.--The Conditt Murder Mystery
A terrible crime at Edna, Texas. Monk Gibson's arrest
and escape. The greatest man-hunt in history. 290
XXXVI.--The Death of Rhoda McDonald
The end of a noble woman's life. Her letter of good-by 304
XXXVII.--The Conditt Mystery Solved
Captain Bill as a "sleuth." The tell-tale handprint. A
Ranger captain's theories established 308
XXXVIII.--The Brownsville Episode: An Event of National
Importance
The Twenty-fifth Infantry's midnight raid 315
XXXIX.--Captain Bill on the Scene
The situation at Brownsville. Rangers McDonald and
McCauley defy the U.S. army. Captain Bill holds a
court of inquiry 323
XL.--What Finally Happened at Brownsville
How State officials failed to support the men who quieted
disorder and located crime 341
XLI.--The Battle on the Rio Grande
Assassination of Judge Stanley Welch. A Rio Grande
election. Captain Bill ordered to the scene. An ambush;
a surprise, and an inquest. Captain Bill's last battle. 357
XLII.--The End of Rangering and a New Appointment
State Revenue Agent of Texas. The "Full Rendition"
Bill enforced. A great battle for Tax Reform, and a bloodless
triumph 373
XLIII.--Conclusion
Captain Bill McDonald of Texas--what he has been and
what he is to-day 388
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
Portrait of Capt. Bill McDonald _Frontispiece_
Facsimile of Letter from Theodore Roosevelt 11
Introducing Reform in the Wilderness 46
Beginning a Campaign in No-man's Land 75
The Capture of Dan and Bob Campbell 138
The Battle with Matthews at Quanah 173
Quelling a Lynching Mob at Wichita Falls 211
In Camp with Theodore Roosevelt 283
Captain Bill's Last Battle 367
[Illustration: THEODORE ROOSEVELT'S LETTER TO CAPTAIN McDONALD
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON
December 19, 1908.
My dear Captain:
I am glad you are to publish your memorials. I shall always look back
with pleasure to our wolf hunt in Oklahoma. Yours has been a most
interesting life. You are one of the few men now living who served
in that warfare against crime and on behalf of order, which has well
nigh passed away with the old frontier conditions which called it
into being. For a number of years you were deputy sheriff, or deputy
marshal, or representative of the cattle men's association employed by
them to put a stop to cattle stealing and robbery under arms, and you
served for twenty years in that unique body, the Texas Rangers. It is a
career which henceforth it will be difficult to parallel.
With all good wishes, believe me,
Sincerely yours,
Theodore Roosevelt
Captain W.J. McDonald,
New Amsterdam Hotel,
New York, N.Y.]
FOREWORD
_A Letter from Theodore Roosevelt to Captain McDonald_
The White House,
Washington.
December 19, 1908.
MY DEAR CAPTAIN: I am glad you are to publish your memorials. I shall
always look back with pleasure to our wolf-hunt in Oklahoma. Yours has
been a most interesting life. You are one of the few men now living who
served in that warfare against crime and on behalf of order, which has
well-nigh passed away with the old frontier conditions which called it
into being. For a number of years you were deputy sheriff, or deputy
marshal, or representative of the cattlemen's associations, employed by
them to put a stop to cattle stealing and robbery under arms, and you
served for twenty years in that unique body, the Texas Rangers. It is a
career which henceforth it will be difficult to parallel.
With all good wishes, believe me,
Sincerely yours,
THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
CAPTAIN BILL McDONALD, TEXAS RANGER
I
Introducing "Captain Bill"
Captain Bill McDonald is a name that in Texas and the districts lying
adjacent thereto makes the pulse of a good citizen, and the feet of an
outlaw, move quicker. Its owner is a man of fifty-six, drawn out long
and lean like a buckskin thong, with the endurance and constitution of
the same.
In repose, Captain Bill is mild of manner; his speech is a gentle
vernacular, his eyes are like the summer sky. I have never seen him in
action, but I am told that then his voice becomes sharp and imperative,
that his eyes turn into points of gray which pierce the offender
through.
Two other features bespeak this man's character and career: his ears
and his nose--the former, alert and extended--the ears of the wild
creature, the hunter; the latter of that stately Roman architecture
which goes with conquest, because it signifies courage, resolution and
the peerless gift of command.
His nerves are of that quiet and steady sort which belong to a
tombstone and he does not disturb them with tobacco or stimulants of
any kind--not even with tea and coffee. In explanation, he once said:
"Well, you see, sometimes I have to be about two-fifths of a second
quicker than the other fellow, and a little quiver, then, might be
fatal."
Incidentally, it may be added that Captain Bill--they love to call him
that in Texas--is ranked as the best all-round rapid-fire marksman in
the State, and for the "other fellow" to begin shooting is believed to
be equivalent to suicide. Add to these various attributes a heart in
which tenderness, strict honesty and an overwhelming regard for duty
prevail, and you have in full, Captain William Jesse McDonald, formerly
Deputy Sheriff, Deputy U.S. Marshal and Ranger Captain, now State
Revenue Agent of Texas.
It is the story of this man that we shall undertake to tell. During
his twenty-five years or more of service in the field, he reduced
those once lawless districts known as the Pan-handle, No-man's Land,
and, incidentally, Texas at large to a condition of such proper
behavior that nowhere in this country is life and property safer than
in the very localities where only a few years ago the cow-thief and
the train-robber reigned supreme. Their species have become scarce
and "hard to catch" there now, and the skittish officials who used
to shield them have been trained to "stand hitched." The story of a
reform like that is worth the telling, for it is the unwritten history
of a territory so vast that if moved to the Atlantic seaboard it
would extend from New York to Chicago, from Lake Erie to the Gulf of
Mexico--its area equal to that of France and England combined, with
Wales, Belgium, the Netherlands and Switzerland thrown in, for good
measure. Furthermore, it is the story of a man who, in making that
history, faced death almost daily, often under those supreme conditions
when the slightest hesitancy--the twitch of a muscle or the bat of an
eyelid--a "little quiver," as he put it--would have been fatal; it is
the story of a man who time and again charged into the last retreat
of armed and desperate murderers and brought them out hand-cuffed,
the living ones, of course; it is the story of a man who, according
to Major Blocksom, in his report of the Brownsville troubles in 1906,
would "Charge hell with a bucket of water." In a word, it is the story
of a man who has done things, who is still doing them, and whose kind
is passing away forever.
II
An Old Time Mississippi Childhood
THE KIND OF AN EDUCATION FOR A YOUNG RANGER. PRESENCE OF MIND EARLY
MANIFESTED
In those days when the Mississippi planter was only something less
than a feudal baron, with slaves and wide domain and vested rights;
with horses, hounds and the long chase after fox and good red deer;
with horn and flagon and high home wassail in the hall--in those days
was born William Jesse McDonald, September 28th, 1852. His father,
Enoch McDonald, was the planter of the feudal type--fearless, fond of
the chase, the owner of wide acres and half a hundred slaves--while
his grandfather, of the clan McDonald on its native heath, was a step
nearer in the backward line to some old laird who led his men in
roistering hunt or bloody fray amid the green hills and in dim glens of
Scotland.
That was good blood, and from his mother, who was a Durham--Eunice
Durham--the little chap that was one day to be a leader on his own
account, inherited as a clear a strain. The feudal hall in Mississippi,
however, was a big old plantation house, built of hewn logs and riven
boards, with woods and cotton-fields on every hand; with cabins for the
slaves and outbuildings of every sort. That was in Kemper County, over
near the Alabama line, with DeKalb, the county-seat, about twenty miles
away.
It was a peculiar childhood that little "Bill Jess" McDonald had. It
was full of such things as the home-coming of the hunters with a deer
or a fox--sometimes (and these were grand occasions) even with a bear.
Then there were wonderful ball-games played by the Bogue Chita and
Mucklilutia Indians; exciting shooting-matches and horse races; long
fishing and swimming days with companions black and white, and the ever
recurring chase, with the blood-hounds, of some runaway slave. There
was not much book-schooling in a semi-barbaric childhood such as that.
There was a school-house, of course, which was used for a church and
gatherings of any sort, and sometimes the children had lessons there.
But the Kemper County teaching of that day was mainly to ride well,
to shoot at sight, and to act quickly in the face of danger. That was
the proper education for the boy who was one day to make the Texas
Pan-handle and No-man's land his hunting ground, with men for his
quarry.
Presence of mind he had as a gift, and it was early manifested. There
was a lake not far away where fishing and swimming went on almost
continuously during the summer days, and sometimes the small swimmers
would muddy the water near the shore and then catch the fish in their
hands. They were doing this one day when Bill Jess was heard to
announce excitedly:
"I've got him, boys! I've got him! You can't beat mine!" at the same
instant swinging his catch high for them to see.
That was a correct statement. They couldn't beat his catch and
they didn't want to. What they wanted to do was to get out of his
neighborhood without any unnecessary delay, for the thing he held up
to view was an immense deadly moccasin, grasped with both hands by
the neck, the rest of it curling instantly around the lower arm. His
hold was so tight and so near its head that the snake could not bite
him, but the problem was to turn it loose. His friends were all ashore
and at a safe distance. He did not lose his head, however, but wading
ashore himself he invited them one after another to unwind that snake.
Nobody cared for the job and he told them in turn and collectively what
he thought of them. Then he offered the honor to a little slave boy on
attractive terms.
"Alec," he said, "ef you-all don't come an' unwind this heah snake,
I'll beat you-all to death an' cut off yo' ears an' skin you alive and
give yo' carcass to the buzzards."
Those were the days when a little slave-boy could not resist an earnest
entreaty of that sort from the son of the household, and Jim came
forward, his face gray with gratitude, and taking hold gingerly he
unwound a yard or so of water-moccasin from Bill Jess, who, with the
last coil, flung his prize to the ground, where it was quickly killed,
it being well-nigh choked to death already.
But even the great gift of presence of mind will sometimes balk at
unfamiliar dangers. It was about this time that the Civil War broke
out, and Enoch McDonald enlisted a company to defend the Southern
cause. The little boy left behind was heart-broken. His father was his
hero, and when by and by the news came that the soldiers were encamped
at Meridian--a railway station about fifty miles distant--the lad made
up his mind to join them. He set out alone afoot and being used to
finding his way in unfamiliar places he made the journey with no great
difficulty, eating and sleeping where opportunity afforded. He arrived
at Meridian one morning, and began to look over the ground and to make
a few inquiries as to his father's headquarters. There was a busy
place, where a lot of supplies were being unloaded from what appeared
to be little houses on wheels. They were freight cars, but Bill Jess
didn't know it. He had never seen a railroad before, and he followed
along the track with increasing interest till he reached the engine,
which he thought must be the most wonderful and beautiful thing ever
created. Then suddenly it let off steam, the bell rang and the air
was split by a screaming whistle. It was too sudden and too strange
for his gift to work. The son of all the McDonald's and of a gallant
soldier set out for the horizon, never pausing until halted by the
sentry of his father's camp.
He was permitted to enter, and was directed to the drill ground, where
his father, who had been promoted for bravery to the rank of Major,
was superintending certain maneuvers. The little boy in his eagerness
ran directly into the midst of things, and Major McDonald, suddenly
seeing him, was startled into the conclusion that some dire calamity
had befallen his family and only Bill Jess had escaped to tell the
tale. Half sliding, half falling he dropped from his horse to learn the
truth. Then gratefully he lifted the lad up behind him and continued
the drill. Eunice McDonald was only a day or two behind Bill Jess, for
her instinct told her where the boy had gone. They remained a few days
in camp and then bade their soldier good-bye. They never saw him again,
for he was killed at the battle of Corinth, October 3d, 1862, charging
a breastworks at the head of his regiment, his face to the enemy, as a
soldier should die.[1] The boy, Bill Jess, ten years old, went after
his father's effects, which included two horses, both wounded. These
he brought home, but his soldier father had been buried on the field,
where he fell.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Col. Rogers of Texas was killed in the same charge; Major
McDonald and Col. Rogers fell side by side, within a few feet of the
works.]
III
Emigration and Adventure
A BOY AT THE HEAD OF A HOUSEHOLD. MEETING "THE DEVIL AND HIS WIFE." AN
EARLY REFORM
The boy of ten was now the head of the household. He had his mother and
sister, and most of the negroes still remained; but he was the "man
of the house" and was mature before his time. Except in the matter of
strength, he was a man's equal--he could do whatever a man could do.
Already he was a crack shot, and at the age of twelve he hunted deer,
and killed them, alone. Long before, even during his father's first
absence, he had followed runaway slaves with the blood-hounds and
without other assistance had captured them and marched them back to the
plantation. It was not a child's work, and we may not approve of it
to-day, but we must confess that it constituted a special training for
the part he was to play in after years.
The war ended at last, and with it the McDonald fortune. Slaves and
cotton were gone. Only a remnant of land, then worthless, remained.
Eunice McDonald, widowed, with two children--her home left desolate by
the ravages of war--knew not which way to turn. A bachelor brother with
his face set Texasward offered to make a home for her in the new land.
She accepted the offer, and in 1866 they reached east Texas and settled
in Rusk County, near Henderson, the county-seat. Here the brother and
sister made an effort to retrieve their broken fortunes, with moderate
success. All the family worked hard, and young McDonald, now in his
fifteenth year and really a man in achievements, did a man's part on
the farm, attending school a portion of the year. His uncle permitted
him to earn some money for himself by cutting wood and hauling it to
the village, and a part of this money he laid away. Such leisure as
he had, he spent in following the hounds, and presently, even as a
boy, became famous for his marksmanship. Coon hunting was perhaps his
favorite diversion, and frequently with his dogs he threaded the dark
woods all night, alone.
But he had not as yet achieved that perfect fearlessness which
distinguished him in later years, and there is still another instance
recorded where his presence of mind failed to work. This latter is a
curious circumstance, indeed, and should be investigated, perhaps, by
the Society of Psychical Research.
He had been out on one of his long night tramps and was very tired next
evening when his work was done. Coming in, he threw himself down on a
lounge in the hallway and was soon sound asleep. By and by his mother
came along and wakened him.
"It's bed-time, Bill Jess," she said.
He got up, walked out toward the gate, and she supposed he was awake.
When he really awoke, he was a mile from there, leaning on the gate of
one Jasper Smith, the father of two young ladies whom Bill Jess was in
the habit of visiting. Realizing where he was, and what might happen to
him if discovered just there, he set out for home down the wide public
road, when suddenly a little way ahead he saw two objects perched on
the top of the rail fence. At first he thought they were two men, and
was not disturbed; then all at once they had left the top of that fence
and in the wink of an eye, lit in the road directly in front of him.
"It was the devil and his wife," McDonald declared. "They had horns and
tails, exactly like all the pictures of the devil I ever saw. Of course
it might have been the devil and his brother; anyway they belonged to
that family. I got by those things. I didn't debate a minute, but went
home as fast as my legs could carry me, emptying my pockets as I ran,
which I had always heard the darkeys say would keep off witches. There
was a short way home by the graveyard, but I didn't take it. I kept
to the big road, and when I did get home, I didn't wait to go around
to the door, but went right in the open window where my mother was.
She said that I had imagined everything, but I hadn't. There was no
imagination about it."
Curiously enough, soon after this happened a little flock of
school-children passing near the same rail fence in daylight, saw
something that scared them so badly that some of them fainted. But by
this time Bill Jess had gathered himself, and taking his gun he loaded
it heavily and went devil hunting. However, without success.
In spite of this slight lapse, young McDonald probably considered
himself a man, now. We have seen that he was already calling on the
young ladies, and in the locality where he lived an ability to drink
whiskey was regarded as another manly achievement. There was a small
still-house located not far from his home, and he got into the habit
of visiting it and of tasting the output. One day he tasted too much
and did not return either in good season or condition. When his mother
prepared to administer punishment, he pulled away from her and stated
that he would not take a whipping. But Eunice McDonald was not one
to condone such rebellion. She put away the rod and bided her time.
One night when Bill Jess was fast asleep she wrapped and pinned
him securely in a sheet and laid on such a thrashing as gave him a
permanent distaste both for liquor and disobedience.
At another time it was attentions paid to a young lady that got him
into difficulties. The young lady was the sister of his school teacher,
and the latter did not approve of anything resembling attachment
between the two. One day the young wooer wrote a letter in school,
and passing it down the line it unluckily fell under the eye of the
teacher, who captured and read it, forthwith.
"I'll settle with you at recess, sir," he said, nailing Bill Jess to
the seat with his eye.
Bill Jess didn't care to have him settle. He was willing to let the
account run right along, and to knock off the interest. He decided not
to wait. The teacher had his back to the board, working out something
hard, when Bill Jess went away. He didn't rush wildly. He didn't even
run--not exactly--but he lost no time, tip-toeing out of there. Neither
did he go home. He'd gone home once in disgrace, and he remembered what
had happened. Eunice McDonald's combination of sheet and horse-whip
offered no fresh inducements in that direction. He walked twenty miles
to a saw-mill and got a job. Then, by and by, everything blew over;
everybody was sorry, and he returned home to forgiveness and safety. A
cyclone hit the school-house for some reason or other about this time
and demolished it, Bill Jess being raked out of the debris undamaged in
any particular. Perhaps this was vindication.
IV
The Making of a Texan
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 McDonald, with
the memory of his hero father, shot dead while leading his regiment
against these men in blue, was in no frame of mind to submit to any
indignity, real or fancied, at their hands. It happened just at this
time that one Colonel Greene, a relative of the McDonalds, was murdered
by negroes, who, being arrested, confessed the killing, stating that
they had mistaken Greene for a mule-buyer supposed to have a large
sum of money. The men were lodged in jail, but it was believed that
under the "carpet-bag" military law then prevailing they would escape
punishment. In later years, young McDonald was to become one of the
most strenuous defenders of official procedure--one of the bitterest
opponents of lynch-law the State of Texas has ever known; but he was
hot-blooded in 'sixty-eight, and the situation was not one to develop
moral principles. When, therefore, a mob formed and took the negroes
out of jail and hanged them, there is no record of Bill Jesse having
distinguished himself in their defense as he certainly would have done
in later years. Indeed, it is likely that if he did not help pull a
rope that night it was only because the rope was fully occupied with
other willing hands.
Of course the military descended on Henderson and set in to discipline
it for this concerted lawlessness. The townspeople as a whole, and the
relatives of Colonel Greene in particular, resented this occupation.
Charley Greene, a brother of the murdered man, in company with Bill
Jess, presently got into trouble with some soldiers who were deporting
themselves in a manner considered offensive, and the result was a
running fight with the military in the lead. The soldiers made for
their quarters in the court-house. It would have been proper to
leave them alone, then--to retire flushed with victory, as the books
say, and satisfied. But Greene could not rest. He persuaded Bill
Jess to stay with him, and they rode up and down in front of the
court-house, occasionally taking a shot at the windows, to punctuate
their challenge to warfare. Finally Greene decided that they could
charge the court-house and capture it. He primed himself with liquor
for the onset, and refused to heed his companion's advice to abandon
the campaign. The two ascended the court-house stairs, at last, with
pistols cocked. Greene had one in each hand and, with them, shoved open
the double doors at the head of the stairs. That was another mistake.
The soldiers were "laying for him" just inside, and in an instant
later his arms were pinioned, and he was a prisoner. The doors swung
to, then, and Bill Jess stood outside, wondering whether he ought to
charge to the rescue, wait there and be captured, or retire in good
order. With that gift of logic and rare presence of mind which would
one day make him famous, he decided to get out of there. He had a plan
for organizing a rescue party, and did in fact get a crowd together,
but in the meantime, under cover of rain and darkness, the soldiers
had taken their prisoner from Henderson and he was well on the way to
Jefferson, where there was a stockade. No attempt was made at the time
to arrest young McDonald, though soldiers frequently loitered about his
home premises, and with these he had many collisions, usually coming
off victorious. He was strong, wiry and fearless, and he had then, as
always, that piercing eye and a manner of going straight at things
without flutter or hesitation.
Still, he was laying up trouble for himself, for Greene's
court-martial was coming off, and Bill Jess, who went over to see if
he could be of any assistance, was promptly arrested while nosing
about the stockade, and landed with his relative on the inside. This
was a serious matter. The boy realized that it was, as soon as the
gates closed behind him. He realized it still more forcibly when a few
days later he and Greene were led into the court-house for military
trial, and he took a look at the men who were to prosecute him for
aiding in the crime of treason. Nor was he reassured when one of the
lawyers present announced that he would "defend that boy's case."
For there was nothing inspiring about this champion's appearance.
Nothing about him except his generosity seemed worth while. He wore
ill-fitting home-spun clothes, smoked a common clay pipe and his long
hair straggled down over his forehead. His shirt collar was carelessly
unbuttoned, and his trousers, too short for him, revealed common
home-knit yarn socks. Moreover, his eyes were half-closed and he had
a general air of sleepy indifference which did not disappear until it
came his turn to take part in the proceedings. Then suddenly the sleepy
eyes became alive, the shaggy hair was tossed back, the clay pipe was
laid on the table, and Dave Culberson, afterward known as an eminent
lawyer and statesman, arose and made such a plea in behalf of the boy
whose father had died at Corinth, and whose mother and sister relied
on him to-day for protection, that only one verdict remained in the
minds of his hearers when he closed. Bill Jess was acquitted, but his
relative, Charley Greene, was less fortunate. He remained in a Northern
prison several years before he was finally released. Dave Culberson
afterward represented his district in Congress, and the boy he defended
eventually served the son, Charles A. Culberson--then Governor--now, in
1909, United States Senator from Texas.
It is likely that this bit of experience with hot-headed lawlessness,
and the result thereof, proved of immense value to young McDonald. From
that time forward we find him a peace-maker, a queller of disturbances,
a separator of combatants, even at great personal risk. He had never
been a seeker after trouble and he seemed now to develop a natural
talent for preserving the peace. Wherever guns are drawn, and they were
drawn pretty frequently and upon small provocation in that day and
locality, he stepped in without hesitation and the would-be slayers
were disarmed by what seemed a veritable sleight-of-hand. In 1871, when
he was nineteen years old, he decided to follow a commercial life,
and with the money saved from the sale of the wood he had cut and
hauled, he took a course in Soule's Commercial College, at New Orleans,
graduating in 1872. Penmanship came easy to him, and upon his return
to Henderson he taught a writing class. Within the year he was able
to establish a small store in connection with the ferry at Brown's
Bluff on the Sabine River, between Henderson and Longview. Here, with
his ferry assistant he kept bachelor's hall, not the most congenial
existence, perhaps, for one with his natural leaning toward female
society. At all events, he gave it up, by and by, and after a brief
sojourn in Longview established himself in Wood County, at Mineola,
then a newly established and busy railway terminus. This was in 1875,
and his venture was a success. Soon he was considered the leading
grocer of the town.
It was during this period that McDonald made the acquaintance of
James S. Hogg, who in later life, as Governor of Texas, was to confer
his most useful official appointment--that of Ranger Captain, thus
enabling him to do much of the work which has identified his name
with the State's constructive history. Hogg, then a young man, was
Justice of the Peace at the county-seat, Quitman, a few miles distant
from Mineola, and was also conducting a paper there. He bought his
groceries of McDonald, and the account ran along in a go-as-you-please
sort of a way. They were good friends, and courted together, and it
was through Hogg that young McDonald met Miss Rhoda Isabel Carter,
a young woman with fine nerve and force of character--just the girl
for a Texas regulator's wife. And such, in due season, she was to
become, for he married her in January, 1876. His friendship for Hogg
continued for some time after that, but came to a sudden end, one day,
when Hogg, who had been elected County Attorney, with characteristic
conscientiousness prosecuted McDonald and others for carrying concealed
weapons--McDonald's possession of such a weapon having been revealed
through his aiding in the capture of a gang of boisterous disturbers of
the peace. McDonald rose and defended his own case, declaring he had
quit business to do his duty as a good citizen, and that he would stay
in jail the balance of his days before he would pay a fine.
With his usual frank fearlessness he said some hard things to Hogg
in the presence of the court, and though discharged, the two were
estranged for a considerable period. Then a truce was patched up,
but only for a time. Both were sharply interested in politics and
on opposing sides in the congressional convention. They were near
coming to blows over their differences, and were only separated by the
intervention of friends. It is not pleasant to record this of these two
worthy men, but after all they were only human beings, and young, and
then the sequel makes it still further worth while.
V
The Beginning of Reform
SUBDUING A BAD MAN. FIRST OFFICIAL APPOINTMENT. A DEPUTY WHO DID
THINGS. "BILL" MCDONALD AND "JIM" HOGG
But now came Bill McDonald's first official appointment and service.
Living just outside of Mineola was a man named Golden, alias George
Gordon, of hard character, and the owner of several bulldogs, similarly
endowed. Man and dogs became a menace to travel in that neighborhood,
as they lived near a public road and were allowed at large. The man was
particularly quarrelsome and ugly and was said to have killed several
more or less inoffensive persons. He always carried arms--the customary
pistol, and a bowie knife--the latter worn in a scabbard "down his
back." He was an expert at throwing this weapon, and altogether a
terror to the community. Bill McDonald would naturally resent the
domination of a man like Gordon, and when one day the latter came to
town with one of his unruly bulldogs, and the dog set upon and injured
McDonald's prized pointer, there was trouble, active and immediate.
McDonald's reputation as a good man to let alone was already
established at Mineola. He was known as a capable marksman--fearless,
resolute and very sudden. When, therefore, he produced a six-shooter
for the avowed purpose of killing the bulldog, its master, who,
like every bully by trade, was a coward at heart, interceded humbly
for the dog's life, promising to take the animal home and leave him
there. McDonald agreed to the arrangement, but for the benefit of the
community at large he promptly applied to Sheriff Pete Dowell for
a commission as deputy, in order that in future he might restrain
officially the obnoxious Gordon and others of his kind. The commission
was promptly conferred, and thus Bill Jess McDonald, quietly and
without any special manifest, stepped into the ranks of Texas official
regulators, where, in one capacity or another, he was to serve so long
and well.
But, however quiet his enlistment, his service was to be of another
sort. Those were not quiet days, and the officer who set out to enforce
the law was apt to become a busy person. Gordon very soon appeared
again in Mineola, and after investing in a good deal of bad whisky,
went on the war-path, flourishing a six-shooter and giving out the
information that nobody could arrest him. He was in the very midst of a
militant harangue when Deputy McDonald suddenly appeared on the scene,
and before Gordon could gather himself, he was, by some magic "twist
of the wrist," disarmed, arrested and on the way to the calaboose. He
demurred and resisted, but slept that night behind lock and bars. Next
morning he refused breakfast and demanded release. Deputy McDonald left
him in a mixed condition of reflection and profanity, returning at noon
to find him sober, subdued and hungry. Upon promise of good behavior
for the future, he was taken before a justice, where he pled guilty
and paid a fine. Then he took his place as the first example of a long
line of wonderful cures set down to Captain Bill McDonald's credit,
to-day; for he gave little trouble after that and remained mostly in
retirement, to be set upon, at last, by his own dogs, who inflicted
terrible wounds. His death soon afterward was thought to be the result
of this attack.
But the Gordon experience was mild enough, after all, compared with
the many which followed, and is only set down because it marks the
beginning of a career. Indeed, an episode of larger proportions was
already under way. In the timber lying adjacent to Mineola, some three
hundred tie-cutters were encamped, supplying cross-ties for the I. &
G.N. road. They were a drinking, lawless lot, and on Saturday nights
the Mineola streets were filled with riot and disorder. The city
marshal, George Reeves, and Deputy McDonald had on several occasions
made arrests and such enforcement of the law had been regarded by the
tie-gang as an affront to all. They sent word to the officers, at last,
that they would be on hand in full force, on the following Saturday,
and that the calaboose might as well go out of commission, so far as
they were concerned.
Saturday night came, and according to promise the tie-cutters were on
the street, numerous and noisy. McDonald and Reeves were among them,
keeping a general lookout for trouble, not always together. The saloons
were full, presently, and the men getting constantly more noisy and
quarrelsome. Seeing a commotion at the rear of a cheap hotel where a
number of the men had gathered, McDonald went over there, and found
Reeves surrounded. Without hesitation he shoved a way through, with his
pistol, until he stood by Reeves's side. Reeves had arrested a man, and
a general riot was imminent. The prisoner was very drunk and disorderly
and demanding that he be allowed to go to his room before accompanying
the officer. Of course the whole intention was to precipitate a general
fight, during which the officers were to be pummeled and battered to a
jelly. Catching the drift of matters, McDonald said:
"All right, take him to his room, if he's got one. I'll take care of
this crowd."
There was something in the business-like confidence of that statement
which impressed the crowd. And then he had such a handy way of holding
a six-shooter. Nobody quite wanted to die first, and Reeves started for
the back entrance of the hotel with his man. As they entered the door
the fellow reeled against the casing and fell to the ground. Then a
general stampede started, for it was called out that Reeves had struck
him. McDonald said:
"Stop you fellers! The fool fell down. I'll shoot the first man that
interferes!"
That was another discouraging statement from a man who had a habit of
keeping his word. It seemed to the crowd that an officer like that
didn't play fair. He didn't argue at all. Somebody was likely to get
hurt, if they didn't get that gun away from him. Movements to this end
were started here and there, but they didn't get near enough to the
chief actor to be effective. Finally when Reeves and his prisoner set
out for the calaboose, the crowd moved in that direction, timing their
steps to a chorus of threats and profanity. Reeves and McDonald made
no reply until they arrived at the lockup; then, the disturbers being
there handy, the officers began gathering them in, a dozen at a time.
It was a genuine surprise-party for the tie-men. They were too much
astonished for any concerted movement, and when invited at the points
of those guns to step inside and make themselves at home, they did not
have the bad taste to refuse.
"Step in, gentlemen; always room for one more," might have been
the form of the invitation, but it wasn't. It was a Bill McDonald
invitation and it was full of compliments and promises that burnt holes
wherever they hit anything. The calaboose was full in a brief time and
a box-car on a nearby switch was used as an annex. By the time it was
full, there were no more disturbers. The outer edges had melted away.
The woods were full of them. The turbulent tie-men of Texas were sober
and sensible by Monday morning and allowed to go, under promise of good
behavior, and upon payment of adequate fines.
Mineola suddenly became a moral town. Amusements of the old sort
languished. Drunk or sober, it was humiliating to flourish a gun, only
to be suddenly disarmed and marched to the calaboose by a man who acted
as if he thought he was gun-proof. It was hard to understand--it was
supernatural. It was better to go to the next town to nourish the gun.
But by this time Deputy Bill Jess was not satisfied with the quiet
life. He had found his proper vocation--that of active enforcement of
the law--and he was moved to pursue it in remoter places. A certain
desperate outlaw, a white man by the name of Jim Bean, had committed
crimes in Smith County, whence he had escaped to Kansas. There he had
killed a city marshal and returned once more to Smith County, which
adjoins Wood on the south. The officers of Smith County had surprised
Jim Bean and his brother Ed, at a small station where they had gone to
rob some freight cars, but the two men had handled their revolvers so
desperately that they had been allowed to escape, and pursuit of them
had been abandoned.
This was the kind of game that Deputy Bill always enjoyed hunting.
It was worth while. He made frequent still-hunts along the Sabine
River, the dividing line between Wood and Smith, hoping to locate his
quarry on the side of his jurisdiction. Perhaps the men knew of these
excursions and remained safely, as they believed, on the other side.
At last, however, the temptation to cross the line became too strong
for a hunter like Bill Jess. The impulse of the Ranger was already upon
him. He crossed the Sabine River into Smith, with his Winchester on his
saddle, and became an official poacher. The river bottom was overgrown
in places with tall cane-brake, and he had reason to believe that the
Beans were hiding, and storing their loot, in the dense growth. He had
heard a rumor, too, that a certain family of swamp-dwellers (negroes)
were in league with the men, and, reflecting on the matter, he
concluded to visit this house, both for the purpose of investigation,
and to borrow a shot-gun, which he thought might be more useful, in a
man-chase through a thick cane-brake swamp, than his rifle. Arriving at
the suspected house, he told in his mildest manner a tale of a wounded
deer not far away, and borrowed a shot-gun, as well as the information
that the men and dogs of the place were in the brakes. He now began a
careful still-hunt for his game, and presently came full upon Jim Bean,
who was on a horse, with a shot-gun, guarding some stolen hogs. Bean
was a great burly creature, more animal than man, from having lived and
slept so long in the woods and brakes. He had been shot at many times,
and had been desperately wounded, but such was his natural vitality,
and so hardened was he by exposure that it seemed impossible to kill
him.
Before Bean could move, now, Deputy McDonald had him covered and
commanded him to get off his horse or he would shoot him dead. Bean
obeyed and McDonald threw his own leg over his saddle and slid to the
ground, still covering Bean with his gun. Suddenly Bean made a dash for
a large tree, turning to shoot just as he reached this cover. McDonald
was too quick, however, and let go with two loads of buckshot, which
struck Bean in several places, knocking him down. He then made off in
the direction of a slough, toward thick hiding. The shot-gun was a
muzzle loader and before McDonald could get it charged again he heard
somebody coming through the brush. It was Ed Bean and some negroes. He
was ready for them by the time they came in sight, and throwing his gun
to position he commanded them to halt. Instead of doing so they turned
and disappeared in the direction from which they had come. McDonald
now mounted his horse and started in pursuit of the wounded Jim Bean.
He found where he had crossed the slough, and presently came to the
desperado's gun, which had been thrown away in his hurry. Blood-stains
made the trail easy to follow. Soon a powder-horn and then a pair of
boots lay in the path of flight. McDonald followed six miles to a cabin
occupied by negroes. Bean was not in the cabin, but barefoot prints
led into the woods. The man-hunter followed them and finally overtook
their owner. It was not Bean. The officer had been tricked--Bean had
escaped while his pursuer had been following this false lead. It was
dark, now, and further search was hopeless. Next morning the outlaws
had vanished from the country. They never returned and were heard of no
more until some time after, when news came from Wise County that both
the Bean brothers had been killed, resisting arrest.
While this episode did not turn out altogether successfully, inasmuch
as the game got away, it had a better result in that it effected a
complete reconciliation between McDonald and his old, and what was to
be his lifetime friend, James S. Hogg. Certain jealous officials were
bent upon making trouble for the young deputy for overstepping his
authority by working outside of his own county, and especially for
shooting a man in attempting an illegal arrest. McDonald held that
the conditions justified his act, and was going to make his fight on
that ground. But it never came to a fight, for when the matter was
brought to the notice of the grand jury, Hogg, by this time District
Attorney, went before that body, and regardless of the old animosity
between McDonald and himself, and of the fact that they were not yet on
speaking terms, declared that if the jury found an indictment against
the deputy for so worthy an undertaking as that which, irregular
or not, had resulted in ridding the country of a gang of outlaws,
he would _nolle pros_ the case--in other words, he would refuse to
prosecute.
When McDonald heard of this, he went to his old friend at once.
"Jim," he said, "you're a gentleman, and I know I want to act right.
Let's not be enemies any more." And they never were.
Ten years later, Jim Hogg, as Governor of Texas, would make it possible
for Bill McDonald to bring down criminals in any county of that mighty
State. But this is further along in our story.
VI
Into the Wilderness
A NEW BUSINESS IN A NEW LAND. A "SAND-LAPPER" SHOWS HIS SAND