shoulder."]
The Ranger was knocked backward, but did not fall. Matthews quickly
fired again, but McDonald was near enough now to knock the gun aside
with his own, and the ball passed through his hat-brim. Aiming at
Matthews' other shoulder, McDonald let go his third shot and Matthews
fell.
Meantime the two deputy assassins had opened fire, and one of them
had sent two bullets through McDonald's left arm. To these he gave no
attention until Matthews dropped. Wheeling now he started to cock his
gun, when he received another ball, this time in his right shoulder,
along which it traveled to his neck, thence around the wind-pipe to
the left side. His fingers were paralyzed by this wound and he made an
effort to cock his gun with his teeth; but there was no further need,
for with the collapse of Matthews his co-murderers fled wildly to
cover, behind the depot, nearly upsetting a box-car in their hurry, as
a spectator remarked.
Captain Bill walked a few steps to the side-walk. There was a post
there, and holding to this he eased himself to a sitting position. A
man ran up to him.
"Cap, how about it?"
"Well, I think I'm a dead rabbit."
They gathered him up and took him to a drug-store, and they took
Matthews to a drug-store across the street. By and by they carried
Captain Bill home and a doctor came to hunt for the bullets.
"Don't fool around with that one in my neck, Doc," Captain Bill said.
"Go after the one in the small of my back, and let out the blood.
There's a bucket of it sloshin' around in there."
The doctor obeyed orders. It was proper to gratify a dying man.
"Now, Doc," the Ranger Captain said when the operation was over, and
the surplus cargo had been removed, "now, I'll get well," and Rhoda
McDonald, his nervy wife, who had arrived on the scene, echoed this
belief.
"If Bill Jess says he'll get well, he'll do it!" she declared.
But this was a minority opinion, and that night when it was rumored
that Captain Bill would not pull through, there were threats that in
case he didn't, the two men who had trained with Matthews would be
strung up without further notice. Some word of this was brought to
Captain Bill, perhaps as a message of comfort.
"Don't you do it, boys," he said. "I'm going to get well, and even if I
don't, I want the law to take its course. I'm opposed to lynching."
Matthews died in a few days. He was removed to Childress and died
there. Before his death he sent word to McDonald.
"You acted the man all through," was his message. "I'm only sorry that
I can't see you and apologize."
"Tell him that I'm doing all right," was the answer returned, "and
that I hope he'll get well."
The mending of Captain Bill was a slow process. For about two months
he was laid up, and then with his wife he sojourned for a time at a
sanitarium. After that, he was up once more, pale and stooped but ready
and eager for action. In time he was apparently as fit as ever; though,
in truth, the physical repairing was never quite complete.
XXII
What Happened to Beckham
AN OUTLAW RAID AND A RANGER BATTLE. JOE BECKHAM ENDS HIS CAREER
Meantime the cause of the final and fatal difference between Matthews
and McDonald--Joe Beckham, former sheriff of Motley--was out on bond,
disporting himself in picturesque fashion. He got a change of venue,
and when his case came up in Baylor County, Cook--his old rival and now
his successor, by election--started over to testify; whereupon Beckham
met the train and promptly shot Cook dead as he struck the platform.
Beckham then mounted a fast horse and cantered away into the Territory,
where he joined in organizing a new gang made up of old offenders,
with a view to doing a wholesale general business in crime. In this
gang were Red Buck, and Hill Loftus, both justly celebrated; also Kid
Lewis--later hung. They established headquarters in a neighborhood
thought to be comparatively safe, since Bill McDonald's work had been
confined to Texas, and opened business with every prospect of reaping
the natural reward of perseverance and industry.
They began by making a general raid on what is now Electra, Texas,
where they cleaned out some stores and knocked a storekeeper on the
head; after which, they looted a country store and post office, kept
by one Al Bailey, then rode away in the direction of their Territory
headquarters.
Company B, Ranger Service, was promptly notified, and Captain McDonald,
not yet able to undertake a hard chase, sent his nephew McCauley with
Jack Harwell and two other Rangers to join the sheriff of Wilbarger
County at Electra, in the pursuit. The Rangers quickly struck the trail
and had followed forty miles toward the Territory at a hard gait when
they spied a dug-out, not far ahead. At the same moment they met an
ostensible cowboy--a "line-rider," he said, on his rounds. The dug-out,
he told them, was his, and that they would find something to eat there.
The party hurried on in the hope of food and warmth, for with the
coming of evening it had grown very cold, and snow was beginning to
fall. They were a little surprised to see a light in the dug-out, but
pushed on toward it, when suddenly a volley of shots rang out from
that cover, and three horses dropped dead. Not one of the riders was
injured, and they promptly returned the fire. Then followed a regular
exchange of shots which kept up to some extent all that bitter cold,
snowy night. When morning came, only McCauley and Harwell of the Ranger
Force remained in action, the others having been driven by the cold and
storm to find shelter.
The dug-out was silent enough, now, but McCauley and Harwell, nearly
dead from exposure, were in no condition to charge it, alone. They were
without horses, and set out for Waggoner's ranch twenty-five miles
away, afoot. Red River lay between, and when they arrived there the
prospect of wading that icy current was miserable enough. Nevertheless,
they did it, arriving at Waggoner's ranch, frostbitten and almost dead
of hunger. The others had reached there several hours earlier.
When all were in condition again, they returned to investigate the
dug-out. The place was deserted. Red Buck (wounded, as they learned
later) with Hill Loftus, had been able to get away; also, Kid Lewis,
for whom a telephone pole was already waiting at Wichita Falls.
Joe Beckham lay stretched upon the floor, dead.
XXIII
A Medal for Speed
CAPTAIN BILL OUTRUNS A CRIMINAL AND WINS A GOLD MEDAL
We are not through with the Pan-handle, but we will relate here an
incident which belongs outside of that district, though within the
period. It seemed always a part of Bill Jess McDonald's peculiar
fortunes that wherever he went he found work suited to his hand.
He had been in Fort Worth on official business, in this instance,
and boarded the north-bound train just as it was pulling out of the
station. As he did so, he noticed two disreputable-looking characters
crowding against a well-dressed old gentleman, and an instant later
heard the latter exclaim, "I have been robbed!" At the same moment the
two toughs started to leap from the car-steps.
Captain Bill's presence of mind responded promptly. His six-shooter
was out with small delay, and seizing one of the men, he called to the
other to halt. The man detained made an attempt to strike his captor,
who promptly "bent" his gun over his head--mildly at first, then with
force, bringing the offender to his knees. The Ranger Captain now
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 jeweler and others of Fort Worth.
This decoration was engraved with Captain McDonald's name and official
title; and an accompanying letter stated that it was awarded as a token
of appreciation of his efforts in bringing criminals to justice, and as
a premium for his superior swiftness of foot on a mile and a quarter
track.
XXIV
Captain Bill in Mexico
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 Quanah failed in 1893, and one of the
head officials, wanted for embezzlement and forgery, made his escape
to Mexico, where he was arrested. Governor Hogg immediately made
requisition for him, and Captain McDonald was detailed to bring him
back across the line. Accompanied by one of the bank directors,
McDonald set out for Mexico, only to find that his man had been
set free, and was then making his way to remoter hiding. It was no
difficult matter, however, to trace him, and the Ranger Captain
presently overhauled him and put him in jail, there to await certain
red-tape formalities incident to the deliberate Mexican official
methods.
Having a good deal of time on his hands, Captain Bill spent it in
sight-seeing. It was interesting enough, but he could not understand
why he used up so many handkerchiefs. They seemed to disappear from
his pockets in some magic way, and no matter how many he set out with,
he presently found his supply entirely exhausted. He realized at last
that this curious condition was not due altogether to accident, nor to
carelessness on his own part. Laying in a fresh stock of handkerchiefs,
he strolled warily along, seemingly unconscious of those who loitered
near him, apparently absorbed in sight-seeing. Presently, from the
corner of his eye, he noticed a Mexican passing near him make a quick
movement with his hand, and caught a glimpse of white passing from
his pocket to that of the Mexican. His sudden grab so startled this
industrious person that he did not even attempt flight. Captain Bill
thereupon promptly recovered his handkerchief, which he found had been
lifted with a slender wire hook; an effective implement in busy and
skilful hands. Without any further preliminaries, he set out for the
jail with his prisoner, but meeting an American acquaintance to whom he
explained the situation, he was advised to proceed no further with the
case.
"If you take him there, they will lock you up with him," he said.
"Well, I guess they won't," said McDonald.
"They certainly will," insisted his friend. "The law here is to confine
the witness with the prisoner, and there is no telling when you'll get
out."
Captain Bill reconsidered, whirled his prisoner around, gave him an
impetuous kick or two, and some advice, which perhaps reached his
comprehension, though in an unknown tongue.
The man fled; it is not known whether he took the advice or not.
Captain Bill's adventures in Mexico were not over. A few nights later
he visited a large casino where gambling was conducted openly, and
mildly diverted himself by taking a hand at bucking the national game,
monte. He played in luck, and the stakes became high. His winnings grew
to a considerable sum, and there were greedy eyes in the group who
watched his play. When he left the place, at last, and descended the
stairway, he noticed that two men seemed to be following him. As he
reached the dim hallway below, he stopped; they stopped also.
Captain Bill was pleased. This was a game he preferred even to monte,
he had played it so much oftener. He stepped out into the middle of the
street, where he would have a clear field of observation, and set out
leisurely, as if he had not noticed anything wrong. The men following
gained upon him, one dropping a little in the rear, the other working
his way to the front. As they reached a dark locality, the man in front
began to drop back a little, evidently getting ready to close in, while
the one behind stepped up a little more lively, until he was about on
a line with Captain Bill, who now noticed him throw back his serape
as if to free his arm for action. No longer in doubt as to what they
meant to do, the Captain brought out his "forty-five" with a swing
that landed the barrel of it with full force on the head of the man in
front. Wheeling, he covered the other, who, seeing his companion drop
with a thud, promptly fled, the Ranger Captain close behind. They raced
down the dim street, and the Mexican, trying to keep his eye on his
pursuer and turn a corner at the same time, ran into a stone wall and
nearly knocked his head off.
Captain Bill was satisfied with the game as it stood, and set out
for his hotel. He was not to arrive there, however, without further
complications. The commotion of the foot-race had aroused a squad of
police-a poor lot, in greasy white uniforms--and these bore down upon
him now with a good deal of excited talk and gesticulation, none of
which he understood. Apparently they thought he was a bloodthirsty
person, who was in the habit of knocking men over the head with his gun
and chasing others into stone walls, for amusement. He explained in the
best Texan he could muster that the men had been trying to rob him,
but it was no use. They insisted by signs that he must come with them.
When he shook his head in refusal, they began reaching for their long
revolvers, which they wore in clumsy holsters.
Captain Bill knew this game, also. He had played it in No-man's Land,
in the Cherokee Strip, and he was still playing it in the Pan-handle.
It was his favorite and daily occupation. Before their guns were half
way to any effective position, he had them covered, and in tones that
are universally understood, even when they convey words of strange
meaning, he warned them to desist.
Men are in the habit of obeying Bill McDonald under such conditions.
The Mexican police obeyed him, and when he indicated that they were
to march in front of him, they did so in a formation at once orderly
and well-maintained. He directed them toward the Hotel Guadaola,
where he was stopping. Arriving there, he explained to the guard, who
understood English, what had happened, and instructed him to convey
the information to the police, with his thanks for their courteous and
prompt attention, and a request that they should meet him at the office
of President Diaz at ten o 'clock the following morning. The guard
undertook to do this, and the police went away, dazed and muttering.
They were on hand next morning at the President's office when Captain
Bill arrived. During his sojourn in the city, McDonald had come
in contact a number of times with President Diaz, and a pleasant
friendship had sprung up between them. Diaz, who has an excellent
knowledge of English, heard the Captain's explanation now with a
good deal of amusement, and after dismissing his policemen with some
paternal advice, he presented Captain Bill with a pass which gave
him the freedom of any portion of the city at any hour and under all
circumstances.
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, and Captain Bill was not
unwilling to enter into the scheme. The matter went so far as to
get into the newspapers, but at that point it came to a sudden end.
Governor Hogg and Adjutant-General W.S. Mabry--a fine soldier, who
later died in the Cuban war--did not propose to have their Ranger
Captain go off on any such filibustering expeditions, and promptly
nipped the whole matter in the bud.
Captain Bill stayed for a considerable time in the Mexican capital, for
his companion, the bank official, fell very ill, and the Captain turned
nurse to pull him through. He very soon became a well-known figure in
the city, being often pointed out as the man who had taken a squad of
police in charge; who was going to bring his Rangers down to whip the
Guatemalans, and whose skill with the six-shooter was nothing short of
miraculous. This last belief was in some manner sustained one day when
he visited a shooting gallery in company with an American dentist, who
had taken pleasure in showing him the sights of the quaint old town.
"Captain, suppose you shoot at those targets as rapidly as you can, and
see how many you'll miss," he said, when they were inside.
Without hesitation, McDonald drew his revolver and opened a perfect
fusillade, hitting a target at each shot. Two Mexicans who were
practising in the gallery made a wild break for the open air and
safety. Soldiers and police came running in excitement and confusion
to discover the cause. It was all over by this time, and the officers,
seeing only Captain Bill and the dentist, stood gaping, waiting an
explanation.
"It is nothing," said the dentist, in Spanish; "my friend the Captain
was only practising a little to keep his hand in."
XXV
A New Style in the Pan-handle
CHARLES A. CULBERSON PAYS A TRIBUTE TO RANGER MARKSMANSHIP. CAPTAIN
BILL IN A "PLUG" HAT
It was during the Pan-handle period that Charles A. Culberson--son of
the Dave Culberson who nearly thirty years before had cleared the boy,
Bill Jess McDonald, from a charge of treason--was Attorney-General
for the State of Texas. Captain Bill was at Quanah, one day, when he
received notice from Culberson that the latter was anxious to locate
the 100th meridian, preliminary to beginning a suit against the United
States to test the claim made by Texas for Greer County--now a portion
of Oklahoma. The Attorney General invited Captain Bill to accompany him
as guide and body guard, knowing him to be familiar with the district
and capable of taking care of such an expedition.
They left the railroad at Vernon, Wilbarger County, proceeded in a
buck-board to Doan's Store on the Red River, and crossed over into
Greer County. It was a pleasant drive across the prairies, and Captain
Bill who felt in good practice beguiled the time by bringing down
prairie dogs, running rabbits, sailing hawks and the like, using his
six-shooter with one hand and his Winchester with the other, riding
along as they were, without stopping. To Culberson, this performance
was amazing enough.
"Captain," he said, "that beats anything I ever saw. Why, I believe you
could throw a nickle up in the air and hit it before it touched the
ground."
McDonald smiled in his quiet way.
"Do you think so?" he said. "Well, I reckon I might, but I wouldn't
want to waste a nickel that way."
Captain Bill then gave a few exhibitions of what he really could do in
the way of shooting, and Culberson declared without hesitation that
there was not such another marksman in the State of Texas. The Attorney
General was enjoying himself immensely.
They camped that night, and next morning were continuing their journey
toward Mangum, the county seat of Greer, when they began to meet men
and women on horseback, evidently getting out of that section of the
country without much waste of time. Captain Bill inquired the reason
of this exodus and was told that a cowboy had killed an Indian over on
the North Fork of the Red, and that the Indians were getting on their
war-paint, preparatory to making a raid--Comanches and Kiowas.
"General," said Captain Bill, "I'll have to look into this thing. You
can go on to Mangum with the team and I'll get me a horse and go over
and take a hand in the trouble."
"Not at all," said Culberson, "you've undertaken to see me through this
trip and I'm not going to let you desert now, Indians or no Indians."
"But I've got to, General. This is a pleasure trip, and that's
business. Them devils are goin' to start something over there and it's
my duty as Ranger to investigate it."
Culberson laughed.
"Now, Captain," he said, "you know very well that all you want is to
get over there where there's a chance to give a shooting exhibition.
You've got tired of hawks and prairie dogs and want to try your hand on
Indians."
A new arrival just then furnished the information that the offending
cowboy had been jailed at Mangum, and that the Indians were likely
to storm the jail. This settled the matter, for Ranger duty and
inclination now lay in the same direction. McDonald and Culberson
drove as rapidly as possible toward Mangum, then about fifty miles
away, changing horses once on the hard journey. The town was well-nigh
deserted, as nearly everyone who could get a gun had gone to the scene
of the killing. Captain Bill therefore established himself as guard of
the jail where the cowboy was confined, and waited results. Nothing of
consequence happened. The country quieted down, Culberson and Captain
Bill presently returned to Quanah.
But a few days later when the Attorney General had arrived in Austin,
Captain Bill received a package by express, prepaid. On opening it
he was stupefied to find that it contained a "plug" hat of very fine
quality. It was the first silk hat in the Pan-handle, where the soft
wide-rimmed cowboy Stetson predominated, and it took more courage to
wear it than to face an assault with intent to kill.
But Captain Bill was game. He was a "brother-in-law to the church" as
he said--his wife being a member--and the following Sunday he put on
the silk hat and accompanied her to meeting.