I JOIN THE RANGERS
The fame of the Texas Rangers had, of course, become common knowledge
among all Texans. Their deeds of adventure and their open, attractive
life along the frontier, had always appealed to me, and I had long
cherished the desire to enlist in the battalion. But the enlistment, as
announced by Captain Roberts, would not be made until June 1, 1875, and
I reached Menardville early in March. I had intended going on to join
Mr. Franks' outfit, but, as explained in a previous chapter, I hired
out to Mr. Ellis until I could enlist in Captain Roberts' company.
About the middle of May, 1875, Joe Franks had worked back over into
Menard County. I wished to see my old friends in his outfit, and so
went over to meet them. While there I mentioned that I was going to
join the rangers. A cowboy named Norman Rodgers, who was working for
Mr. Franks, said he would also like to join, so we decided we would
go over to Captain Roberts together and see if we couldn't get him to
recruit us into his company.
Rodgers and I rode over to the ranger camp beyond Menardville. Neither
of us had ever been in such a camp before nor did we know anyone in the
company. Of the first ranger we met we inquired where we could find the
captain. His tent was pointed out to us and we went toward it.
"Jim," said Norman as we approached the tent, "you will have to do the
talking."
Captain Roberts met us as we came up and invited us to be seated. I
told him at once that we had come to enlist as rangers. He asked us our
names, where we were working, and finally inquired if we had anyone
that would recommend us. We had not thought of references, but told him
that probably Mr. Franks or Mr. Ellis would stand for us, as they were
well known and prominent cattlemen for whom we had worked.
Captain Roberts looked straight at me and said, "Did you say your name
was Gillett?"
"Yes, Jim Gillett," I replied.
He then asked me where I was born, and I told him at Austin, Texas.
"Are you a son of James S. Gillett who was Adjutant-General under
Governor Sam Houston?"
I told him I was.
"I have often heard my father, Buck Roberts, speak of your father," he
said in a friendly tone.
Captain Roberts then asked us what kind of horses we had, telling
us that a ranger was required to have a good mount, for each man was
allowed to have only one horse, which had to be a good one, that could
be ridden every day for a month if necessary. I told the captain I had
two good pony mares. He burst out laughing, and said a mare was not
allowed in the service. He then told us to go and see what kind of a
mount we could get, come back and let him inspect the animals. The
captain never once said he would enlist us, but, as the interview was
now over and he had not refused us, we went back to camp feeling very
hopeful we would soon be rangers.
I secured a big black pony and Norman a gray one, not so large as mine
but a much prettier horse. We returned to the ranger camp a few days
later mounted on these ponies. The captain looked them over, said they
were rather small but that he would accept them, and told us to be at
his camp by May 31st to be sworn into the service. We left camp that
evening all puffed up at the prospect of being Texas Rangers.
The last day of May arrived. Norman Rodgers and myself with many other
recruits we had never seen before were at the ranger camp. On June 1,
1875, at 10 o'clock, we were formed in line, mounted, and the oath of
allegiance to the State of Texas was read to us by Captain Roberts.
When we had all signed this oath we were pronounced Texas Rangers.
This was probably the happiest day of my life, for I had realized one
of my greatest ambitions and was now a member of the most famous and
efficient body of mounted police in the world.
Immediately upon being sworn in the men were divided into messes, ten
men to the mess, and issued ten days' rations by the orderly sergeant.
These rations consisted of flour, bacon, coffee, sugar, beans, rice,
pepper, salt and soda. No potatoes, syrup or lard was furnished,
and each man had to supply his own cooking utensils. To shorten our
bread we used bacon grease. Beef was sometimes supplied the men, but
wild game was so plentiful that but little other meat was required.
Furthermore, each recruit was furnished a Sharps carbine, .50 caliber,
and one .45 Colt's pistol. These arms were charged to each ranger,
their cost to be deducted from our first pay. Our salary of $40 per
month was paid in quarterly installments. The state also supplied
provender for the horses.
Though a ranger was forced to supply his own mount, the state undertook
to pay for the animal if it were killed or lost in an Indian fight. To
establish the impartial value of our animals, Captain Roberts marched
us into Menardville and asked three citizens of the town to place a
value on each man's mount. This was done, and I was highly gratified
when old Coley, my mount, was appraised at $125. This formality over,
the company was moved from Little Saline to Camp Los Moris, five miles
southwest of Menardville, Texas. We were now ready to begin scouting
for Indians.
As is usual under the same circumstances the new recruits came in for
their share of pranks and mishaps. One raw rooky in my mess, fired with
love of economy, undertook to cook ten days' rations for the whole mess
at one time. He put a quantity of rice on the fire. Soon it began to
boil and swell, and that surprised ranger found his rice increasing
in unheard of proportions. He filled every cooking vessel in the mess
with half-cooked rice, and still the kettle continued to overflow. In
desperation he finally began to pour it on the ground. Even then he had
enough rice cooked to supply the entire company.
Another recruit, anxious to test his new weapons, obtained Captain
Roberts' permission to go hunting. He had not gone far from camp before
he began firing at some squirrels. One of his bullets struck the limb
of a tree and whizzed close to camp. This gave an old ranger an idea.
He hastened after the hunter and gravely arrested him, declaring that
the glancing bullet had struck a man in camp and that Captain Roberts
had ordered the careless hunter's arrest. The veteran brought in a pale
and badly scared recruit.
One of the favorite diversions of the old rangers was to make a
newcomer believe that the state furnished the rangers with socks
and start him off to the captain's tent to demand his share of free
hosiery. The captain took these pranks in good part and assured the
crestfallen applicant that the rangers were only playing a joke on him,
while his tormentors enjoyed his discomfiture from a safe distance.
When they had run out of jokes the rangers settled down to the regular
routine of camp. Each morning the orderly sergeant had roll call, at
which time he always detailed six or eight men with a non-commissioned
officer to take charge of the rangers' horses and the pack mules until
relieved the following morning by a new guard. The guard was mounted
and armed and drove the loose stock out to graze. The horses were never
taken far from camp for fear of being attacked by Indians, and also to
keep them near at hand in case they were needed quickly.
The rangers not on guard spent their time as they wished when not on
duty, but no man could leave the camp without the captain's permission.
The boys played such games as appealed to them, horse-shoe pitching and
cards being the favorite diversions. As long as it did not interfere
with a man's duty as a ranger, Captain Roberts permitted pony racing,
and some exciting contests took place between rival horse owners. And
hunting and fishing were always available, for woods and streams were
stocked with game and fish.
I soon had cause to congratulate myself on my enlistment in Company
"D," for I found Captain D.W. Roberts the best of company commanders.
At the time I joined his command he was just thirty-five years of age,
very slender and perhaps a little over six feet tall. His beard and
hair were dark auburn. He was always neatly dressed and was kind and
affable in manner,--looking more like the dean of an Eastern college
than the great captain he was.
Captain Roberts was a fine horseman and a good shot with both pistol
and rifle. He was also a fine violinist and often played for the boys.
He had been raised on the frontier and had such a great reputation as
an Indian fighter that the Fourteenth Legislature of Texas presented
him with a fine Winchester rifle for his gallantry in fighting the
redskins. The captain had made a close study of the habits and actions
of the Indians and had become such an authority that their life was
an open book to him. This, of course, gave him a great advantage in
following and fighting them, and under his able leadership Company "D"
became famous. There was not a man in the company that did not consider
it a compliment to be detailed on a scout with Captain Roberts.
In the latter part of the summer or early fall of 1875, Captain Roberts
visited Colorado County, Texas, and returned with a bride, a Miss Lou
Conway. Mrs. Roberts was a very refined and elegant lady, and soon
adapted herself to the customs of the camp. She was with her husband
on the San Saba River during the winter of 1875-76 and soon became as
popular with the company as Captain Roberts himself.
Most people consider the life of the Texas Ranger hard and dangerous,
but I never found it so. In the first place, the ranger was always with
a body of well armed men, more than a match for any enemy that might be
met. Then, there was an element of danger about it that appealed to any
red-blooded American. All of western Texas was a real frontier then,
and for one who loved nature and God's own creation, it was a paradise
on earth. The hills and valleys were teeming with deer and turkey,
thousands of buffalo and antelope were on the plains, and the streams
all over Texas were full of fish. Bee caves and bee trees abounded.
In the spring time one could travel for hundreds of miles on a bed
of flowers. Oh, how I wish I had the power to describe the wonderful
country as I saw it then. How happy I am now in my old age that I am
a native Texan and saw the grand frontier before it was marred by the
hand of man.
The Lipans, Kickapoos, Comanches, and Kiowa Indians used to time their
raids so as to reach the Texas settlements during the light of the
moon so they would have moonlight nights in which to steal horses and
make their get-away before they could be discovered. By morning, when
their thefts became known, they would have a long lead ahead and be
well out on their way into the plains and mountains. The captains of
the ranger companies knew of this Indian habit, and accordingly kept
scouts constantly in the field during the period of the raids. The
redskins coming in from the plains where water was scarce generally
took the near cut to the headwaters of the Colorado, Concho, San Saba,
Llanos, Guadalupe, and Nueces Rivers. By maintaining scouts at or near
the heads of these streams the rangers frequently caught parties of
Indians going in or coming out from the settlements, and destroyed them
or recaptured the stolen stock.
The first light moon in June Captain Roberts ordered a detail of
fifteen men in command of Sergeant James B. Hawkins to make a ten
days' scout toward the head waters of the North Llano River. He was to
select a secluded spot near old abandoned Fort Territ and make camp
there. Each morning a scout of one or two men would be sent out ten or
fifteen miles south and another party a like distance toward the north
to hunt for Indian trails. The main body of rangers, keeping carefully
concealed, was in readiness to take up an Indian trail at a moment's
notice should one be found by the scouts.
One morning Sergeant Hawkins ordered me to travel south from camp to
the head draws of the South Llano and watch for pony tracks.
"Suppose the Indians get me?" I asked laughingly as I mounted my pony.
"It's your business to keep a sharp lookout and not let them catch
you," he replied.
However, though I watched very carefully I could find no pony tracks or
Indian trails.
We had with us on this scout Mike Lynch, a pure Irishman. Though he was
old and gray-headed, he was a good ranger, and had much native wit.
One morning it was Uncle Mike's turn to go on scout duty, but in a
few hours he was seen coming into camp with his horse, Possum, on the
jump. He reported a fresh Indian trail about ten miles north of our
camp. When asked how many pony tracks he had counted, Lynch at once
declared he had counted seventeen and thought there were more. As the
Indians usually came in on foot or with as few ponies as they could
get by on until they could steal others, Sergeant Hawkins suspected
the tracks Lynch had seen were those of mustangs. The excited scout
declared vehemently that the tracks were not those of wild horses but
of Indians. The sergeant was just as positive that no Indian party was
responsible for the trail, and the two had quite a heated argument over
the tracks.
"But how do you know it is an Indian trail?" demanded Hawkins.
"Because I know I know," cried out Lynch in a loud voice.
That settled it. Horses were saddled and mules packed as quickly as
possible, and the rangers marched over to the suspicious trail. When
Sergeant Hawkins examined the trail he soon discovered that the sign
had been made by mustangs but could not convince the hard-headed
Irishman until he followed the trail two or three miles and showed him
the mustang herd quietly grazing under some shade trees. Uncle Mike did
not mention Indian trail any more on that scout.
Though we did not find any trails or Indians the scouting party killed
two black bear, several deer and about fifteen wild turkey.
Early in September, 1875, Captain Roberts again ordered Sergeant
Hawkins to take fifteen men and make a ten days' scout on the Brady
Mountains. To my great joy I was detailed on this expedition. When
near the head of Scalp Creek, Menard County, on our return trip, the
sergeant told the boys to keep a sharp lookout for a deer, as we would
reach the San Saba by noon and would camp on that stream for the night.
We had not traveled far before Ed Seiker killed a nice little spiked
buck. We strapped him on one of the pack mules, and when we arrived
at the river we came upon a flock of half-grown wild turkeys. Bill
Clements leaped from his horse and killed six of them.
We then camped, hobbled and sidelined our horses and put a strong guard
with them. While some of the boys were gathering wood for our fire they
found an old elm stump ten to twelve feet high with bees going in at
the top. One of the rangers rode over to Rufe Winn's ranch and borrowed
an ax and a bucket. When he returned we cut the tree and got more
honey than sixteen men could eat, besides filling the bucket with nice
sealed honey, which we gave to Mrs. Winn in return for the use of her
ax. Then, after dinner, out came fishing tackle and, using venison for
bait, we caught more catfish than the entire crowd could eat.
Hunting conditions in those days were ideal. I have known a single
scout to kill three or four bears on a single trip. The companies to
the north of us were never out of buffalo meat in season. Then, in the
fall, one could gather enough pecans, as fine as ever grew, in half a
day to last the company a month. I have seen hundreds of bushels of
the nuts go to waste because there was no one to gather them--besides
they sold on the market for fifty cents per bushel. No wonder that a
boy that loved the woods and nature was charmed and fascinated with the
life of the Texas Ranger. It was a picnic for me from start to finish,
and the six years I was with the battalion were the happiest and most
interesting of my life.
But hunting and fishing and vacation scouts were not the sole duties of
a ranger. Pleasure was abundant, but there were times when all these
were laid aside. For the game guns and the fishing rod we exchanged our
carbines and our sixshooters and engaged in hazardous expeditions after
marauding redskins. I was soon to see this latter aspect of ranger
life, for in the latter part of August, 1875, I became a real ranger
and entered upon the real work of our battalion--that of protecting
the frontier against the roving Indians and engaging them in regular
pitched battles.