thing for the minister, otherwise nobody would have looked in his
direction. As it was, all eyes were aimed toward Captain Bill and his
hat. The congregation had seen him come in with it in his hand, and
they could still observe the wonder, for it would not do to put so fine
a piece of property on the floor, while to set it toppling on his lap
would be to court disaster. It seemed necessary therefore to hold it in
his hand, raised a little, and at a distance from his body, in order
that by no chance movement the marvelous gloss of it should be marred.
The people of Quanah who attended church that day were glad to be
there. They are still glad. They do not remember the sermon they heard,
but they do remember that hat. Even the minister wandered from his text
in his contemplation of that splendid exhibition. Those of Quanah who
remained away from service on that memorable Sunday have never entirely
recovered from their regret. For it was their only opportunity ever
to see Captain Bill in a plug hat. When services were over, the
congregation crowded about for a nearer view. Cowboys stood up on the
backs of the pews to look over the shoulders of those in front of them.
Homesick women who remembered such things back east, shed tears. Many
wanted to touch the precious thing--to stroke its silken surface, and
among these were little children who insisted on rubbing the fur the
wrong way.
Captain Bill got out at last and headed for home. Once there, the gift
of the Attorney General was reverently damned and laid away. Somewhere
in a secret stronghold, deep buried from mortal eye, it exists to this
hour.
XXVI
Preventing a Prize-fight
THE FITZSIMMONS MAHER FIGHT THAT DIDN'T COME OFF AT EL PASO, AND WHY.
CAPTAIN BILL "TAKES UP" FOR A CHINAMAN
Culberson became Governor in the course of time, and remembering
Captain Bill's peculiar talents was wont to rely upon him for special
work in any portion of the State where nerve, determination and prompt,
accurate marksmanship were likely to be of value.
During February, 1896, a national sporting event--a ring contest
between Bob Fitzsimmons and Pete Maher--was advertised to take place
at El Paso, a busy city dropped down on the extreme western point of
the Texas desert, on the banks of the Rio Grande. Governor Culberson,
speaking for himself as well as for the better class of citizens in
his State, announced that so long as he was in office, Texas would
not go on record as a prize-fighting commonwealth, and that the fight
would not take place. Thereupon there came a crisis. Certain interested
citizens of El Paso had made up a purse of ten thousand dollars to
bring this event to the "Paris of Texas" and these and their friends
were filled with indignation. Dan Stuart, prominent in Texas sporting
matters and promoter of this particular event, issued a proclamation
which bore not only the announcement that the fight would take place as
advertised, but a picture of Dan himself. Also, it was declared that
there was no law in Texas which would prevent prize-fighting, and the
preparations for this particular event continued; whereupon Governor
Culberson promptly called a special session of the legislature to pass
a law which would be effective, and Adjutant-General Mabry ordered the
State Ranger Service to assemble at El Paso to see that this law was
enforced--it having been widely reported that Bat Masterson with a
hundred fighting men would be present to see that the fight came off.
Then, when it was rumored that the contest would take place in either
Old or New Mexico--the boundaries of both being near El Paso--President
Cleveland ordered the United States Marshal of New Mexico to proceed
to the vicinity of El Paso and guard the isolated districts of that
territory, while the Governor of Chihuahua took measures to discourage
the enterprise in that State.
Things began to look pretty squally for the sporting fraternity, both
in El Paso and at large, and they were mad clear through. The city
council assembled and passed a denunciatory measure, condemning the
Governor for asking for Rangers; the Adjutant-General for sending them,
and the Rangers for being present.
It was no use. The Rangers went quietly about the streets, paying no
attention to unfriendly looks and open threats as they passed along.
Efforts were made by the principals and their friends to elude the
Rangers, but with no other result than that a Ranger was appointed as
a special body-guard to each of the pugilists, while a third, Captain
McDonald, became the temporary associate of Dan Stuart. They had
nothing particular to do--these Rangers--except to be companionable,
and pleasant, and to stay with their men. Wherever Stuart and Maher and
Fitzsimmons went their official attendants went with them, and even if
not always welcome they were entertained with sufficient courtesy, for
the person of a Ranger is sacred--besides, he is reputed to be quick
and fatal.
Such sport became monotonous. The pugilists and their friends gave up
the El Paso idea, and, still accompanied by the Rangers, took the train
for Langtry, a point where the Southern Pacific Railway touches the
Rio Grande. The State of Coahuila lay across the river, and Langtry
itself was at that period the proper gateway to a pugilists' paradise,
its law being administered by one Roy Bean, justice of the peace and
saloon-keeper, whose sign read:
MIXED DRINKS
LAW WEST OF THE PECOS.
It is said that Bean's drinks were about on a par with his law, and
that the latter was administered with a gun. He tried court cases,
granted divorces, and handed down decisions without the trammel of a
jury or other assistance. Once when a citizen killed a Chinaman in his
place, Bean consulted the statutes, and finding nothing in reference
to the murder of a Chinaman in his saloon, discharged the prisoner
as having committed no offense. At another time, when a man walking
across a high bridge over the Pecos had fallen and broken his neck,
and the matter was brought before Bean, the dispenser of "Law West of
the Pecos," discovered that the pockets of the unfortunate contained a
six-shooter and forty-one dollars in money; whereupon he fined the dead
man twenty-five dollars and costs for carrying a concealed weapon, and
appropriated the forty-one dollars and the six-shooter, in settlement.
A whole chapter could be written about Bean and his official service,
but this is not the place for it. It is the place, however, for another
incident concerning a Chinaman--a case in which, though tried west of
the Pecos, the Chinaman's rights were sustained.
The train bound for Langtry with the pugilistic party and Rangers
aboard stopped at Sanderson, a small wayside station in the desert, for
lunch. Everybody was hungry and hurried over to a Chinese restaurant
for something to eat, and the Chinese waiters scurried about to serve
them. They were doing their best, but it was not easy to satisfy
everybody at once. Next to Captain McDonald sat Bat Masterson. Bat has
since given up all his reckless ways and become a good citizen, but
at that time he was training with the unreformed and not feeling very
well, anyhow. It seemed to Bat that a Chinese waiter was not getting
around as promptly with food as he might and he set in to admonish him.
The Chinaman replied to the effect that he was doing his best, whereat
Masterson decided to correct him with a table-castor. Captain Bill
had been sitting quietly, saying nothing; but as Masterson raised the
castor the Ranger Captain clutched his arm.
"Don't you hit that man!" he said.
Masterson wheeled.
"Maybe _you'd_ like to take it up!"
Captain Bill regarded him steadily for an instant.
"I done took it up!" was his quiet answer.
The castor was put down. Masterson reflected silently while he waited
for his food. Perhaps that was the beginning of his reform.
Arriving at Langtry, Stuart, Fitzsimmons and Maher were escorted to
the Rio Grande, where, with all their fraternity, they crossed over to
Mexican soil and the fight was pulled off in good order. It was a good
fight, as fights go, and Fitzsimmons won with a knock-out landed on
Maher's jaw; but it did not take place on Texas soil.[9]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 9: For official details of the situation at El Paso, etc.,
see Appendix A, Adjutant-General W.H. Mabry's report.]
XXVII
The Wichita Falls Bank Robbery and Murder
KID LEWIS AND HIS GANG TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE ABSENCE OF THE RANGERS. HE
MAKES A BAD CALCULATION AND COMES TO GRIEF
The absence of Captain Bill and his Rangers from the Pan-handle, was
construed by Kid Lewis as an invitation to rob a bank. He selected the
City National of Wichita Falls for his purpose and with a partner named
Crawford rode up to that institution one day about noon, and entering,
demanded the bank funds. Cashier Frank Dorsey failing to comply with
that demand, was shot dead; H.H. Langford, bookkeeper, was wounded,
and the Vice-President of the bank escaped by having in his left
breast-pocket a small case of surgical instruments. This deflected the
ball which otherwise would have entered his heart.
The robbers then secured whatever money was in sight--about six
hundred dollars in gold and silver--ran out the back door, mounted
their waiting horses and galloped away. The citizens were by this
time alarmed and a number set out in pursuit, full speed. There was a
running fight, during which Lewis' horse was shot, but an instant later
he was clear of it, and leaping behind Crawford the two went plunging
away double until they met an old man driving into town with a single
horse. This they appropriated forthwith, leaving their pursuers a good
way behind. Still further on, they crossed Holiday Creek and came to a
field where a man was plowing. They now abandoned their blown horses
and at the point of a gun took his heavy Clydesdale team and once more
dashed away, making for the Wichita River. Their pursuers gained on
the clumsy animals and fired several more shots at the fugitives, then
decided to return and organize a posse, which they raised in short
order. This posse followed the track of Lewis and Crawford beyond the
Wichita River, to a place where the robbers had taken to the thick
brush overgrowing the river bottom. Here the trail was lost.
Captain McDonald, returning from the Fitzsimmons-Maher contest, via
Fort Worth, had got as far as Bellvue in the adjoining county when he
was met by a telegram, containing the news of what had happened that
morning at Wichita Falls. He immediately wired the authorities at the
Falls to have horses in readiness for himself and men.
The Rangers reached the city about two in the afternoon and mounting
the horses, already waiting, dashed away in the direction the robbers
had taken. With him, Captain Bill had Rangers McCauley, Harwell,
Sullivan, Queen, and McClure--the tried, picked men whom Lewis and
Crawford had been most anxious to avoid. The horses were picked, too,
for speed and endurance and went at a wild headlong gait--almost too
headlong for safety. A small creek that had become a bed of mud lay
across the road and Captain Bill's horse, stumbling on the brink, sent
him head first into the soft mixture, which literally daubed him from
head to foot before he could get on his feet. His men thought for a
moment that he was killed, but he rose spluttering and swearing, wholly
unhurt, though fearfully disfigured, and with no time to remove his
disguise. Instantly mounting, he galloped on, a sight to behold, the
others respectfully restraining any tendency to mirth.
Presently they met the local posse coming back. The posse had given up
the chase, but was able to furnish information. Captain Bill and his
Rangers learned where the robbers had disappeared, and pressed on in
that direction, the posse following.
It was now getting toward evening and would soon be dusk. It was
desirable to make an end of matters by daylight, if possible, and
the Rangers wasted no time. They picked their way rapidly into the
thick undergrowth of the bottoms, and suddenly in a bend of the river
discovered the Clydesdale horses tied close to the bank. Their riders
were believed to be close by, and the Rangers expected to be fired upon
at any moment. Without waiting for any such reception they charged in
the direction of the horses, with no other result than that Ranger
Sullivan broke a stirrup, fell, and with a fractured rib, retired from
action.
Lewis and Crawford had abandoned the horses, and their trail led down
the river bank. The Rangers also left their horses at this point, for
it was hard going. McDonald now took Queen and Harwell, one on either
side of him, their guns in readiness while he gave his attention to the
trail. The light was getting very dim where they were, but Captain Bill
is a natural trailer and followed the tracks without difficulty. Here
and there they found stray articles which the men had dropped in their
flight. Finally the tracks led to the river where it was evident the
bandits had crossed.
It was February and the water was very cold. Captain Bill had not
yet recovered from the terrible bullet wounds received in the fight
with Matthews, two months before, and was bent and debilitated, but
he did not falter. With Queen and Harwell he plunged in and waded the
icy water, chin deep, to the other side. Twice more the trail led to
the river and crossed, and twice more McDonald and his men waded that
bitter current, holding their fire-arms above their heads, their bodies
literally numb with cold. It was a severe experience, but as Captain
Bill said afterwards, it removed a good deal of his mud.
McDonald now made up his mind that the robbers would be likely to cross
a road that had been cut through the bottoms, and head toward the
Territory, which they were evidently trying to reach, believing the
Rangers would not follow them across the line. He called to one of his
men--Ranger McClure, who appeared just then, a little distance away--to
get all the force he could and guard that road, while he, McDonald,
with Queen and Harwell, would continue to beat the brush and search
carefully through the bottoms. At that moment Lewis and Crawford were
near enough to hear this order, and the realization that it was Bill
McDonald and his Rangers who were on the trail gave them a sudden and
more severe chill than the icy water they had waded.
They had been heading for the Territory, as McDonald suspected, but
decided to change their course toward a creek that ran parallel with
the river. On their way to it they were obliged to cross an open field,
and though by this time it was night--between nine and ten o'clock--a
full moon had risen and they were discovered by the men guarding the
road, and fired upon. They returned the fire as they ran, but no damage
was done on either side. Meantime, McDonald and his two companions,
nearly perishing with wet and cold, having come upon a house in their
search, had stopped to try for a cup of hot coffee. At the sound of the
shots they rushed out. A horse was hitched at the door and Captain Bill
leaped into the saddle and hurried in the direction of the alarm. As he
approached, he saw in the moonlight a crowd--the local posse--gathered
on the little hill overlooking the wheatfield where the robbers had
crossed. The Ranger Captain fully expected to find the captured or dead
bandits in that crowd, and called out as he came up:
"Boys, where are they? Where are the robbers?"
They pointed in the direction of some brush about a quarter of a mile
away.
"They went into that creek bottom, over yonder."
"Well, then, what in the devil are you all doing up here?"
Somebody answered:
"You must think we're dam' fools to go in there after those fellows. Of
course we didn't go in there, and don't intend to."
"Well," said Captain Bill, "I'm going, and if any of you fellows want
to go, come ahead, but I don't want any man that don't go willingly."
Ranger McCauley had ridden up.
"You can't get away from me, Uncle Bill," he said.
The two loped off in the direction of the thicket, but presently found
their way barred by a wire fence. Leaving their horses they made a
circuit around the enclosure and soon struck what seemed to be a road,
leading into the bottom. Hurrying along they came upon Ranger McClure,
who had been in charge of the posse when the shooting had occurred, and
had set out alone to locate the robbers.
"Hello, Bob, where are they?" asked Captain Bill, as he and McCauley
came up.
"Right over there, Cap. They ran in the brush, over by yonder big tree."
"Well, boys, we've got to get them. We'll charge in there."
They pushed rapidly into the bushes without further parley--McDonald
heading for the tree, McCauley and McClure spreading out to the right.
Captain Bill made straight for the big tree pointed out by McClure, his
gun ready for quick service. It was a still, moonlit place, but brushy
and full of shadows, and not easy going. The crack of Winchesters might
be expected at any moment.
Suddenly the Captain found himself confronted by a creek, and looking
across saw two men with guns, squatting in the weeds. They appeared
to be on the point of raising their guns to fire, but with McDonald's
appearance and his sharp command, "Hold up there!" made from behind his
own leveled Winchester, they were unable to complete the action. Their
guns dropped into their laps--they seemed stupefied.
"Throw up your hands!" was the next order.
The hands went up.
"Get up from there!"
One of the men found his voice.
"We can't, Captain, our guns are lying across our laps, cocked. They'll
go off if we get up."
"Get up or I'll turn you over!"
They rose hastily, their guns sliding to the ground.
"Back off there, now, and face the other way."
They obeyed like soldiers on drill.
Captain Bill stepped into the creek, about three feet deep, and waded
across. He noticed a bag, doubtless containing the stolen money, and
observed that the robbers had laid their cartridges out on a log for
convenient use. At that moment McCauley and McClure came hurrying up,
apparently ready to shoot.
"Hold up boys! It's all right," said McDonald, "I've got 'em!"
McCauley and McClure waded across and assisted in searching the
prisoners. A purse of gold was found in one of the men's pockets; the
sack on the ground contained silver.
"Now, let's get out of this," said McDonald, "and get where it's warm."
"You're not going to make us wade that cold creek, are you" said Lewis,
shivering.
"Look here," said Captain Bill. "If you don't get across there and
pretty quick, too, I'll duck you, head first. You've made me wade water
up to my neck, all the afternoon."
They all crossed, then--the fifth time in the cold water that day for
McDonald--and made their way to where he and McCauley had left their
horses. Here they got a rope and bound the prisoners, their arms behind
them. Captain Bill then called to the posse, still waiting in the road
a quarter of a mile away listening for the sound of the shots that
would probably bring down Rangers.
"Come on, boys," he yelled, "we've got em!"
So they came "lickety brindle," but presently stopped.
"Captain, are you sure you got 'em!"
"Yes, I've got 'em, and got 'em tied. Come on--there's no danger, now!"
The crowd tore through the brush to get over there, and some of them
began abusing the captured men, declaring they had murdered the best
man in Wichita Falls, and furnishing a graphic outline of what would
happen to them, in consequence. What they said was all true enough,
maybe, but the saying of it seemed in rather poor taste to Captain Bill.
"Look here," he said, "these men are my prisoners, now; you let them
alone."
He marched Lewis and Crawford over to Mart Boger's ranch, where all got
some hot coffee and something to eat. Boger also supplied a wagon in
which to haul the prisoners.
It was McDonald's first intention to take the men to Henrietta, for
safe keeping, but against his judgment he was persuaded to take them to
Wichita Falls. He gave orders, however, that none of the crowd should
leave, as he did not wish the news of the capture to travel ahead of
them--realizing that a mob of citizens would be likely to gather.
On the way to the Falls the Rangers fell into conversation with Lewis;
and McCauley and Harwell discussed with him the fight that he and Hill
Loftus and the others had made, that night in the dug-out when Joe
Beckham had been killed. Lewis explained how he and Red Buck and Loftus
had managed to slip away without being seen. Then McDonald said:
"Boys, how was it you didn't shoot me a while ago, when you saw me
coming through the bushes? You-all had your guns cocked and ready--and
you knew you'd be hung, anyway, if you got caught. You saw me
first--why didn't you shoot?"
"Cap," said Lewis, "we thought you were out of the country and wouldn't
get back before we could get to the Territory. When we heard you giving
orders and knew who it was, we lost our nerve, and when we saw you, we
somehow got paralyzed."
When the procession had arrived within a mile or two of the Falls,
Captain McDonald, realizing that some one had doubtless slipped away
and carried the news, sent one of his men to have the jail door open
in order that there might be no delay in entering. His suspicion was
correct, for the news had traveled, and though it was then about two o
'clock in the morning, several hundred men were congregated about the
jail when the Rangers with their prisoners arrived. Captain Bill rode
ahead and opened the way with his gun.
"Give room, here, men!" he commanded, and the way opened.
Lewis and Crawford were marched into the jail--Rangers McCauley and
Queen being left to guard the door. The prisoners were taken to cells,
carefully searched, and locked in. Captain McDonald then descended to
disperse the crowd, which had grown noisy and ugly in its demands for
the prisoners, and was apparently making ready to attack the jail.
Captain Bill addressed this assembly.
"Boys," he said, "I reckon you-all are my friends, and if you are,
you'll go home now and go to bed. My Rangers and I captured these men
and they are our prisoners. We've got them locked up, and they'll have
a fair trial. You men didn't capture them, and you have nothing to do
with them. They're unarmed now, and can't defend themselves, but if you
make an attack on this jail I'll give the prisoners their guns, and
we'll lick this crowd. I command you to disperse immediately. If you
don't, we'll begin business right now."
The mob dispersed. Some of the leaders wanted to call Captain Bill
away to discuss matters, but he would have none of it, and cleared
the grounds. Then in spite of his wet, cold, weary condition, and the
terrible wounds received less than three months before, he stayed with
his men, on guard, till morning. Then a message was brought to him that
Hill Loftus had been concerned in the robbery and that he was hiding in
a dug-out near town.
Knowing that Loftus and Lewis trained together, Captain McDonald did
not discredit this report, or suspect that it was part of a ruse to
get him away from the jail. He ordered a horse from the stable at once
and made ready to start.
"Aren't you going to take your men with you?" asked the men who had
brought the word.
"No," said Captain Bill. "I want them to stay here."
"But Loftus is a bad man, and will have the advantage of you, being in
the dug-out."
"That's all right--I can take care of him; but I do want somebody to
come and show me the place."
A man volunteered to do this, and rode with Captain Bill to a dug-out
some distance away, in the edge of the town. The place was empty, but
another man appeared just then who claimed to have seen Loftus leave, a
little while before, taking a northerly direction.
Still unsuspecting, Captain Bill set out at full speed, but after
riding three miles and seeing no sign of Loftus, or his trail, he
rode back to Wichita Falls. At the edge of the town he was met by his
nephew, Henry McCauley, with the news that everybody who could get a
gun had marched on the jail, and that no doubt Lewis and Crawford were
already hung.
Captain Bill did not wait for another word. A mob of several hundred
men had gathered about the jail, wild with excitement, determined to
have Lewis and Crawford and to lynch them, forthwith. Suddenly this
multitude saw Captain Bill bearing down on them--his Winchester in
position for business and fury in his eye.
[Illustration: QUELLING A LYNCHING MOB AT WICHITA FALLS.
"Boys, have you still got the prisoners?"]
"Boys," he called to his Rangers, as he dashed up, "have you still got
the prisoners?"
"Yes," they called back, "they're still in the jail!"
Captain Bill wheeled on the mob.
"Now!" he shouted, "damn your sorry souls! march out of here and get
away from this jail, every one of you, or I'll fill this yard with dead
men!"