themselves in range made a wild, hasty effort to get into some safer
locality. Captain Bill swung the point of his gun a little so it
covered a good many in its orbit, and nobody knew when it might go off.
They knew if it did go off it would hit whatever spot he selected, and
nobody wanted to own that spot. The crowd moved--some of it hurried
a good deal--and Captain Bill helped things along with language. He
escorted the mob well into town.
The Ranger Captain now prepared to move the prisoners to Fort Worth,
but was notified by the District Judge that this could not be
done--that any attempt to do so would result in general trouble with
the citizens of Wichita Falls. McDonald protested that the citizens had
already shown that they were unable to take care of the prisoners in a
legal way. The judge said:
"I will appoint twenty-five men to guard the jail."
"You mean you will appoint twenty-five men to keep me from taking Lewis
and Crawford away," McDonald said:
"No, only to help you guard them."
"But if you have a guard of twenty-five men you don't need the Rangers."
The judge argued for the moral support of the Rangers. McDonald
informed him that it was impossible for his force to remain in Wichita
Falls, guarding prisoners; that other work was waiting for them; that
there was already a requisition for them at Quanah; that furthermore
they had been away from their headquarters for two weeks, besides being
wet and cold and worn out from exposure and want of sleep.
"Let the others go, Captain, and you stay," urged the judge.
"Judge," said Captain Bill, "you know I'm all shot up, and it's the
first time I've rode any, and what with yesterday, and last night,
and to-day I'm about used up, and likely to be sick. Now, if you can
take care of those prisoners with your guard, all right. If you think
you can't, I'll take 'em to Fort Worth, where they'll be safe. But
I'm going to get out of here to-night, unless you get an order from
Governor Culberson for me to stay. It ain't far to the telegraph
office, only about thirty steps--you can go and wire him, if you want
to. If he says for me to stay, I will, of course. But otherwise I'm
going. I've done my whole duty, now. When I get prisoners in jail, and
guarded, my duty ends. Your guard of twenty-five men with your local
officers can hold that jail if they want to. I could hold it alone."
No order came to the Rangers from Governor Culberson, and they left
that afternoon, when the local guard had been duly installed. That
night the mob once more marched on the jail, and in spite of the armed
guard and the sheriff, deputies and constables, Lewis and Crawford were
taken from their cells and hung to telephones poles, close to the bank
where they had committed their crime.
Citizens of Wichita Falls complained to Governor Culberson that Captain
McDonald and his Rangers had gone away, leaving the prisoners to the
mercy of the mob. Culberson wired to McDonald, and receiving the facts
in reply, commended him throughout.
A reward of two thousand dollars for the capture of Lewis and Crawford
was paid by the two banks of Wichita Falls. The local posse divided it
into thirty-two equal parts, in which they generously permitted the
Rangers to share.
XXVIII
Captain Bill as a Peace-maker
HE ATTENDS CERTAIN STRIKES AND RIOTS ALONE WITH SATISFACTORY RESULTS.
GOES TO THURBER AND DISPERSES A MOB
During the years that ended the old century and began the new--from
about 1896 to 1902, or later--there occurred in Texas a series of
strike and mob disorders of various kinds. To quiet troubles of
this sort is the special province of the Ranger Service, and as the
Pan-handle became more tractable--more range-broken, as one may
say--Captain Bill McDonald and his little force were summoned to points
far and near to put down disturbance and to check agitation.
It was not long after the bank murder at Wichita Falls, and the
capture of Lewis and Crawford, that Captain McDonald was summoned
there again, this time to investigate a strike on the Fort Worth and
Denver Railroad. Things were in bad shape at the Falls. Trains were not
allowed to run, engines were not permitted to move. Riot and bloodshed
were imminent.
Captain Bill did not think it necessary to take his men. He went up to
Wichita Falls alone, and learning where the main body of the strikers
were assembled, went over there. They had gathered in a hall, and were
holding a secret meeting when he arrived. The Captain knocked on the
door. A doorkeeper came, but refused admission.
"I am Captain McDonald, of the Rangers," said McDonald quietly, "and
I'm here to talk to you men and see what the trouble is. You're all
here? now, and I think I'll talk to you together."
The doorkeeper went away and reported, and presently returned.
"Where are your Rangers?" he asked.
"I didn't bring any. I don't need any. I'm a pretty good single-handed
talker, myself."
There was another consultation inside, and the door opened. Captain
Bill went in with a friendly greeting for everybody, given in his
genial natural way. Then he got up where he could see his audience.
"Boys," he said, in his slow, friendly way, "I understand you-all are
acting mighty sorry over here, interfering with business and making
out like you're going to tear up things generally. Now, you know me,
and you know that I don't want anything that ain't right, and if a man
behaves himself I'll try to get him what's right, if I can. I suppose
you think you have a grievance and perhaps you have, but you'll never
get it settled this way, and it's my business, as you-all know, not to
have this sort of work going on. You have a perfect right to quit work,
but you haven't any right to keep other men from working, or to injure
people's business or to break up property. Nothing good can come out
of such doings. I didn't bring any of my men along, because I didn't
believe I'd need 'em, and I don't think so now, but of course if this
thing goes on, I'll have to bring 'em, and then it will be too late to
talk all friendly here together as we're talking now.
"I'm well acquainted with President Good of this road, and I know you
can't get anything this way; and if you take my advice you'll go back
to work: and tell him your troubles afterward. Now, boys, that's all
I've got to say, and I reckon if you listen to it you'll come out a
good deal better than if you listen to one or two men that for some
reason of their own are trying to stir up a lot of trouble, and will be
in jail before night, as like as not."
Captain Bill went down on the street and the crowd soon followed. A
good many came to him and expressed willingness to go to work. Here and
there he talked to a little group in his friendly, earnest way. The
strike at Wichita Falls was over.
From Wichita Falls McDonald went over to Fort Worth, where there was
similar trouble, but learned that a more serious situation existed
at the Thurber coal-mines, in Erath County. The miners were of many
nationalities--ignorant and brutish--and they were swayed by anarchical
leaders. The Ranger Captain was urged to take his men to Thurber, but
decided to go alone.
Arriving at Thurber, he hunted up the mine officials, for
consultation. Colonel Hunter, President of the mines, looked at Captain
Bill--bent over from his wounds and battered up from illness and
exposure--and shook his head.
"You should have brought your men," he said. "You can't do anything
with a gang like ours, alone."
"Well, Colonel, I'm using my men in other places. I'll look around a
little and do what I can, anyway."
Loitering about the town, he discovered that a number of kegs of beer
were going out to a high hill, beyond the outskirts--headquarters of
the striking miners. He learned that there was to be a sort of mass
meeting there that night, when the leaders and chief agitators would be
on hand. He decided to be present.
It was well after dark when he set out, and a good crowd had assembled
when he reached the place. It was out on a mountain where the timber
had been cut off, about half a mile from Thurber, and there was no
light except from a misty moon. At one place there was a big log, used
by the speakers to stand on, and about this the crowd and the beer-kegs
were gathered. Captain Bill, unnoticed, blended with the outer edges.
It was near eleven o'clock, and a speaker had come to the conclusion
that the crowd was in the proper condition to take some good radical
advice--which might be followed by prompt action--so he proceeded to
give it. He told them how they had been mistreated and what they should
do. They were to begin by blowing up the mines and the superintendent's
office, and he told them which mine to blow up first. Then he told them
what they were to do to "Old Hunter," and it was clear from the faces
and the muttering of the listeners that they were ready to do these
things.
Captain Bill worked his way through the crowd until he was close to the
speaker's log. When the agitator reached what seemed a good stopping
place, the Ranger Captain suddenly stepped up beside him. The speaker
stopped dead still, in his surprise. It was Captain Bill's turn.
"Men," he said, "this rascal that has been talking to you is an enemy
to you and to the country. He's trying to get you to commit murder, and
to get you sent to the penitentiary, or hung. You can quit work, but
you can't kill people and destroy property, not in this State. These
walking delegates and leaders that are telling you to do these things
are just a sorry lot of damned scoundrels, and I'm going to put them
where they belong, and where they're trying to get you. I'm Captain of
Company B, Ranger Service, and I'm here alone, but I'll have my men
here, if I need them, and I'll hang just such fellows as this man--"
Captain Bill turned to indicate his selected victim, but he was no
longer there. He had melted into the crowd, and was seen no more.
A man from the assembly came up and urged the Ranger Captain to
desist--warning him that there were desperate men there, and that he
would be killed.
"Don't mind me," Captain Bill proceeded, "that's been tried on me more
than once without much success. You see I'm here yet--spared, I reckon,
to give you some good advice. Now, you men had better take it and give
up these meetings, and if you've got to jump onto anybody, jump onto
the fellows that's trying to get you into trouble. Good-night!"
Captain Bill walked back to Thurber and next morning a messenger came
to his room to tell him that there was a big crowd outside, hunting for
him. He rose and dressed, and taking his Winchester went out to see
what was going on. When he appeared he was waited on by some miners
who wanted him to talk a little more to the men. He was told that a
number of them had decided to go to work and wanted to know what kind
of protection they would have. Captain Bill assured them of protection
and fair treatment. Then he asked where their leaders had gone--the men
who had been urging them to do murder. But they could not tell. Those
ill-advisers had vanished over night. Within a brief time the men were
nearly all back at work, doing better than ever before.
At other points McDonald or his Rangers quieted the strikers and
prevented trouble of various kinds. Usually Captain Bill went alone. It
was his favorite way of handling mob disorders, as we have seen. It is
told of him in Dallas how once he came to that city in response to a
dispatch for a company of Rangers, this time to put down an impending
prize-fight.
"Where are the others?" asked the disappointed Mayor, who met him at
the depot.
"Hell! aint I enough?" was the response, "there's only one
prize-fight!"
XXIX
The Buzzard's Water Hole Gang
THE MURDER SOCIETY OF SAN SABA AND WHAT HAPPENED TO IT AFTER THE
RANGERS ARRIVED
But the San Saba affair was a different matter. It was in 1897 that
certain citizens of San Saba County petitioned the Governor to send
Rangers to investigate the numerous murders which had been committed
in that locality--the number of assassinations then aggregating
forty-three within a period of ten years.
In fact, San Saba and the country lying adjacent was absolutely
controlled at that time by what was nothing less than a murder society.
San Saba County, situated about the center of the State, lies on
the border of the great south-west wilderness, and is crossed by no
railroad. In an earlier day a sort of Vigilance Committee or mob had
been organized to deal with lawless characters, but in the course of
time the usual thing happened and the committee itself became the chief
menace of the community. Whatever worthy members it had originally
claimed, either dropped out or were "removed," and were replaced
by men who had a private grudge against a neighbor; or desired his
property; or were fond of murder on general principles. In time this
deadly organization became not only a social but a political factor,
and as such had gathered into its gruesome membership--active and
honorary--county officials ranging from the deputy constabulary to
occupants of the judicial bench. Indeed, it seemed that a majority of
the citizens of San Saba were associated together for the purpose of
getting rid--either by assassination or intimidation--of the worthier
element of the community.
This society of death was well organized. It had an active membership
of about three hundred, with obligations rigid and severe. Their
meeting place was a small natural pool of water, almost surrounded
by hills. It bore the curiously appropriate name of "Buzzard's Water
Hole," and here the Worthy Order of Assassins assembled once a month,
usually during full moon, to transact general business and to formulate
plans for the removal of offending or superfluous friends. Sentinels
were posted during such gatherings, and there were passwords and signs.
These were forms preserved from the original organization; hardly
necessary now it would seem, since the majority of the inhabitants were
in sympathy with the mob, while those who were not could hardly have
been dragged to that ghastly spot. They preserved other things--they
kept up the semblance of being inspired by lofty motives, and they
maintained the forms that go with religious undertakings; wherefore,
being duly assembled to plot murder, they still opened their meetings
with prayer!
After which, the real business came up for transaction. Members in
good standing would make known their desires, setting forth reasons
why citizens in various walks of life were better dead, and the cases
were considered, and the decrees passed accordingly. Sometimes when a
man's offense was only that he owned a piece of desirable real estate,
a resolution was passed that a committee of fifty should wait on that
citizen and give him from three to five days to emigrate, this to be
supplemented by a second committee of one whose duty it would be to
call next day and make the said undesirable citizen a modest, not to
say decent, offer for his holdings. It was not in human nature to
resist a temptation like that. The man would be likely to go. He would
accept that offer, whatever it was, and he would get out of there
before night. The organization acquired a good deal of choice property
by this plan. When an election was coming on, the society decided who
was to be chosen for office, and who for assassination, and committees
were likewise appointed to see that all was duly performed. It was a
remarkable society, when you come to think about it--a good deal like
Tammany Hall, only more fatal.
To break up the Buzzard's Water Hole roost, and to discourage its
practices in and around San Saba, was the job cut out for Bill McDonald
and his Rangers during the summer and fall of 1897.
Captain McDonald began the work by sending over three of his men--John
Sullivan, Dud Barker and Edgar Neil--to investigate. There was plenty
of trail and the Rangers ran onto it everywhere. It wound in and out
in a hundred directions, and gathered in a regular knot around the
seat of justice. Perhaps there were town and county officials who were
not in the toils of the deadly membership, but if so they were not
discoverable. Sullivan promptly got into trouble with the sheriff by
re-jailing a man whom he found outside, holding a reception with his
friends, when the State had paid a reward for his capture. Sullivan
and the sheriff both drew guns, but were kept apart, and the District
Judge, who seemed to have been a sort of honorary "Buzzard," holding
his office by virtue of society favor, undertook to get rid of Sullivan
by sending him a long way off, after some witness supposed to be
wanted; though why they should want any witness, in a court like that,
would be hard to guess.
Captain Bill himself now came down to look over the field. He had
his hands full from the start. When he arrived, Rangers Barker and
Neil were patrolling the town with guns, while a number of citizens
similarly armed were collected about the streets.
"Hello, Dud," he said, "are you-all going to war?"
"Looks like it, Cap," returned Barker.
Captain Bill looked over at the armed citizens, and raised his voice
loud enough for them to hear.
"Well, Dud, if that's the best they can do," he said, "we can lick 'em,
can't we?"
"Yes, sir, if you say so, Cap."
The armed citizens showed a reluctance in the matter of hostilities
and began to edge away. McDonald now got his mail and reviewed the
situation, for prior to his coming he had scarcely known what the
trouble in San Saba was all about. By and by he went to his hotel. It
was about ten o'clock and he was sitting out in front, when he saw
flashes and heard shots across the public square. The mob was shooting
up the town for his benefit. Captain Bill seized his gun and went up
there. The main disturbance seemed to be in and about a saloon. The
Ranger Captain pushed into the place alone, compelled every man of the
assembly to put up his hands and allow himself to be disarmed. He then
required them to appear for examination, next morning. They did appear,
and were discharged, of course, but, nevertheless, it was evident that
a man who would not be scared and who was not afraid to do things, was
among them. Members of the society felt a chill of uneasiness. Worthy
citizens, heretofore silent through fear of their lives and property,
began to take heart.
McDonald now interviewed the sheriff and county officials in general
and delivered his opinion of them, individually and collectively,
concluding with the statement that he would bring Sullivan back as soon
as a message and steam would get him. The sheriff replied that Sullivan
and he could not stay in the same town.
"Then move," said Captain Bill. "The county will be rid of one damned
rascal. It will be rid of more before I get through here."
Captain Bill went to Austin, himself, after Sullivan, so that there
might be no mistake about his coming. He presented the case to Governor
Culberson and got his sanction, then sent word to his men at San Saba
to meet them, and he arrived with Sullivan, promptly on time. He had
expected that there would be a demonstration by the sheriff and his
friends, instead of which the streets of the little town were deserted.
Perhaps the sheriff and his party had given out that war was imminent
and this was the result.
It was clear now that to obtain evidence and convictions under such
conditions as they prevailed in San Saba was going to be a long, slow
job. With officials incriminated and good citizens intimidated; with
witnesses ready to come forward and swear anything in defense of the
murderers, knowing they would be upheld in their perjury, the securing
of good testimony and subsequent justice would be difficult.
The Rangers went into camp in a picturesque spot on the banks of the
San Saba River, a mile from town; pitched their tents under the shelter
of some immense pecan trees; arranged their "chuck boards," staked
their horses and made themselves generally comfortable. Then they
posted sentinels (for a fusillade from the society was likely to come
at any time), and settled down to business. Evidently they had come to
stay. The society postponed its meetings.
Captain Bill now began doing quiet detective work, a labor for which
he has a natural aptitude; anybody can see from the shape of his
ears and nose, and from the ferret look of his eyes that this would
be so. Good citizens took further courage and came to the camp with
information. The Ranger Captain looked over the field and undertook a
case particularly coldblooded and desperate.
A man named Brown, one of the society's early victims, had been hanged
by that mob some ten or twelve years before, and his son Jim, though
he had never attempted to avenge his father's death, had fallen under
the ban. Jim Brown never even made any threats, but he must have been
regarded as a menace, for one Sunday night while riding from church
with his wife and her brother, he was shot dead from ambush; his wife,
whose horse became frightened and ran within range, also receiving a
painful wound.
Captain Bill secured information which convinced him that one Bill
Ogle had been the chief instigator in this crime, and that the father
and brother of Brown's wife were likewise members of the society and
concerned in the plot. He learned, in fact, that the plan had been
for Mrs. Brown's brother to ride with her, and for her father, Jeff
McCarthy, to carry her baby by a different route to keep it out of
danger. The brother, Jim McCarthy, was to stay close to his sister, to
look after her horse and keep her out of harm's way while her husband
was being murdered. It was due to the fact that Jim McCarthy did not
perform his work well, that the sister was wounded. McDonald in due
course uncovered the whole dastardly plot.
The murderers now realized that trouble was in store for them. Some of
the men began quietly to leave the country. Others consulted together
in secluded places and plotted to "kill Bill McDonald." Sympathizing
citizens encouraged this movement, and anonymous warnings--always the
first resort of frightened criminals--began to arrive in the Ranger
camp. Captain Bill paid no attention to such communications; he was
used to them. He went on gathering and solidifying his evidence,
preparatory to the arrest of Ogle and such of his associates as the
proofs would warrant. Ogle, the "tiger" of the society, as he was
considered, McDonald had not yet seen, for the reason that the tiger
did not live in the town, and for some cause had lately avoided those
precincts. He arrived, however, in due season. Perhaps the brotherhood
let him know that it was time he was taking a hand in the game.
Captain McDonald, one hot afternoon, was talking to an acquaintance on
the streets of San Saba, when he noticed a stout surly-looking man,
with the village constable, not far away. Now and then they looked and
nodded in his direction and presently an uncomplimentary name drifted
to his ear.
"Who is that fellow talking to that sorry constable?" he asked.
His companion lowered his voice to a discreet whisper.
"That is Bill Ogle," he said, "the worst man of the murder mob."
Captain Bill looked pleased.
"Good-by," he nodded, "I want to see Bill Ogle."
He stepped briskly in the direction of the two men who, seeing him
approach, separated and loafed off in different directions. Captain
Bill overhauled the constable.
"See here," he said composedly, "I heard you call me a name a while
ago when you were talking to that murderer, Bill Ogle, who is going
down the street yonder. Now, an officer that throws in with a murder
mob, ain't worth what it would cost to try, and hang, and if I hear any
more names out of you I'll save this country the expense of one rope,
anyway."
The constable attempted to mutter some denial. Captain Bill left him
abruptly with only a parting word of advice and set off down the
street after Ogle. Ogle had crossed the street and passed through the
court-house to a hardware store on the other side--where a number of
his friends had collected.
"Don't go over there, Captain," cautioned his friend, "you'll be
killed, sure."
"Well, I'll go over and see," Captain Bill replied quaintly,
continuing straight toward the mob store.