Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger: A Story of Frontier Reform

by Albert Bigelow Paine

It was on the second day that Chief Quanah's family arrived—his favorite wife, Too-nicey, and the two others whose names are not remembered, but may have been Some-nicey and Quite-nice-enough, together with a small boy and a papoose; and these in their hack followed the hunt with the others. It was a genuine jubilee when a coyote was started up and was followed by that boisterous company; the buggy of "War Bonnet," and Burnett hitting only the high places; Too-nicey and her matrimonial alliance bouncing along in the hack, with the dog-wagon, wildly excited—a regular canine explosion—bringing up the rear. Then, what excitement when the wolf was finally run down and killed or captured; what rejoicing by everybody—including Too-nicey, Quite-nicey, and Pretty-nicey, or whatever their names might be.

IN CAMP WITH THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
"They gathered about the big fire, cowboy fashion."

But now it developed that the three Nicey's could serve a good purpose on a hunt like that as well as for mere decoration. They had eyes—marvelous eyes—that could see a wolf far across the prairie when the eyes of white men could not distinguish even a sign. There was no need of a glass when the wives of Quanah sat in their hack and scanned the horizon. Certainly that was an unusual hunting party, and very likely a unique experience, for all concerned.

But perhaps the best part of the hunting was the evening, after all. Then it was that they gathered about the big fire, cowboy fashion, with Chief Quanah Parker in their midst, talking to them—repeating the traditions of his father and his tribe—the tale of his mother's capture, the story of his own life and battles—his views and his religion of later years.

In a former chapter we have told of the massacre of Fort Parker and the capture of the little girl, Cynthia Ann Parker, who was adopted by the tribe, married a chief, and in time became Chief Quanah's mother. Gathered about the campfire on Deep Red Creek, in a wide circle of loneliness, with "Tom" Burnett, who understands the Indian language "better than the Indians themselves," acting as interpreter and the President of the United States listening, the son of that little captured girl told that story, now, and he supplemented it with the story of his father—a sequel that will not be out of place here.

The tribe had loved the little captive white girl, the story runs, and the little girl had learned to love her captors. She had learned their speech and forgot her own; then, by and by when she was no longer a little girl, a great chief named Nacona had wooed her and made her his wife. Nacona was a mighty warrior and made frequent raids on the white settlements and carried off much property—cattle and horses.

But finally his last raid came. Captain Sul. Ross (later Governor Ross), stationed at Fort Griffin with a troop of Rangers—sixty trained Indian fighters—was watching for an opportunity to fall upon Nacona, unawares. The opportunity came when Nacona, with his braves and many of their squaws and children, were camped one day at the mouth of Talking John Creek in Hardeman County. There was good hunting on Talking John Creek, and Nacona and his braves, fresh from a raid on the white settlements below, had stopped there for a few days to rest and recuperate before taking up the final homeward march. They felt secure and had no thought that Rangers were anywhere in the vicinity.

Then suddenly there was a clatter of horses' feet, a crack of carbines, and Captain Ross with his sixty fighting devils were upon them. There was no time for preparation. Most of the Indians fled wildly, leaving their squaws and their captured plunder. Nacona's wife, who had been the little captured Parker girl, was in the camp with him; also their two children, Quanah, and his little sister, Prairie Flower.

With the first charge of the Rangers, Nacona seized his rifle, leaped upon his horse and rushed after his braves, in the hope of gathering them for battle. That his wife and children would not be harmed by the white men he knew. He knew also, that the case was desperate, and he realized this more fully when he found that his braves were hopelessly scattered, and in full flight.